“Damn, this is good red, babe.”

She clinks her glass against mine and then takes a mouthful, moaning as she drinks. “Hmm. Yeah, it’s a good drop. Spencer’s dad raves about it. I knew of all people, you’d appreciate it.”

“I could go a case of this right about now.”

“Why? What’s up?”

“Work’s just fucked,” I say, rubbing my fingers against my temple.

April takes a sip from her glass. “How come?”

“My shifts have been cut back to four days a week, no weekend shifts.”

Delicate lines form across her brow. “Why?”

I shrug one shoulder. “I dunno whether to blame Tony or his new wife, who clearly has it out for me, or whether they’re saving money by giving the shifts to younger staff.”

She shakes her head and scoffs. “That’s bullshit. Did Tony even talk to you about it first?”

“Not a single word. Four fucking years, you know? And what do I get for it? I get fucked up the arse. Loyalty means nothing to him.”

“You won’t have this job forever, Soph.”

A loud sigh leaves my lips. I take a gulp of red. “Yeah, I know.”

“How’s the study coming along?”

“I’m getting there. I’ve probably got another year ahead of me. Maybe six months, if I had the time to do the extra units. I just need to get in the right headspace.” And not be so worried about money. When the fuck will that day come?

“You’ll get there, hon. I have total faith in you.”

You’re the only one, and it means more than you’ll ever know.

“Thanks, babe.”

“So the burning question I’ve been dying to ask is how are you and Rocco getting along?”

“Ha! I guess as well as you’d expect. I witnessed a nice little outburst this morning, though.”

“What the hell kind of outburst?”

“He didn’t take too kindly to my underwear hanging in the bathroom.”

She laughs out loud. “You mean all the expensive stuff that Bonnie bought you?”

“Yup. He threatened to blow his load all over them.”

“Urgh, gross,” April whines.

“The thing is I actually believe him.”

“That’s Rocco for you. He has a charming way with words.”

“That he does.” I take another drink of red. Is Rocco home drinking right now? “Did you know he drinks a lot?”

“I dunno. I guess most of the time I see him it’s usually celebrating after a round,” April says.

“Well, he’s drunk. Like every night.” And I know the signs.

“Hey, lovely ladies,” Jones croons, as he enters the room.

“Hey, Jonesy boy,” I say, with a salute.

“He loves his tequila,” Jones says, as he plonks himself down at the table, but not before swiftly kissing April on the lips.

“If I drank as much as him, I’d be dead,” I offer.

“He needs to sort his shit out. He can’t keep fucking himself up like that. Mac’s getting tired of him rocking up late. He pulled the same shit when he was on the KTM Factory team. I don’t know whether it had to do with family shit, but his antics got him fired. He’s knows his shit when it comes to bikes, but he’s unreliable. The team relies on him to do his job, otherwise we don’t perform.”

“Was he in the shit the other day?” I ask, wondering how his day had gone. From the sight of him later that night, my guess was that it wasn’t the best of days.

“Mac and him had words.”

“Ah. That might explain the state he was in, and the piece of work he brought home that night.”

“He got her, hey?” he asks, with a raised brow. Is he proud of the sleazy son-of-a-bitch or just curious?

“From what I heard, she got one, maybe even two. From the shitty mood he was in the next day, I’d say he got a nil result because he seemed beyond frustrated.”

Jones gets up from the table and pisses himself laughing. “I’m gonna take a shower, then watch the footy. I’ll leave you ladies to it.”

Cautious not to drink too much, April and I flip through the magazines. The last time I looked at books like these, it was for my own wedding. Ouch.

“Hey, do you wanna come to the next round with me? It’s in three weeks. I got a text from Eevie, and she’s bringing her kids and her mum. We’re gonna play Cupid and see how her mum and my dad get along.”

“As if that’s not gonna be awkward enough you think they need an audience?”

“Come on, Soph. You said you’re not working weekends, so why not come along? We won’t have to get up as early as the guys. We can spend some time together and see how things unfold. I’m sure Eevie’s mum is lovely, but given Daddy’s past choices in women, I feel I should be there in case he needs help.”

“Okay, but I’ll need to do some study at some stage.”

“Sure, whatever. Bring your books, and I promise to give you some time to get some work done. There’s a sofa bed in our accommodation, so you can just crash with us.”

“As long as there are no sexy times. I’m happy to know you’re getting some, but I don’t need to hear it first-hand.”

“Babe, unless I sit on his face and drag an O out of him, I guarantee he’ll be too tired to shag anyway.”

“Very funny.”

“Oh, and I thought I’d book in an appointment on the Sunday at this bridal place I know so we can sort out these frocks. The owner normally doesn’t open on Sunday, but I know her from a photo shoot I did last year, and she’s more than happy to work out of her normal business hours to look after us.”

I love that she’s beyond casual about this wedding. She’s the furthest thing from Bridezilla. It makes this whole thing so much easier, and makes me feel less like a disorganised friend.

“I’d love that.”

CHAPTER TEN

ROCCO

Three weeks later

Friday

I’ve put in the hard yards at the factory during the last few weeks. We stripped the bikes down to the frames, inspected every fucking nut and bolt, and regreased the shit out of the bike as we re-assembled them. All the plastics have been updated with new stickers and sponsor logos. We’re ready to race.

I’m pretty fucking happy with what we’ve achieved. I hope to hell that Mac is happy, because I’ve been busting my arse to try and show him I’m trying. I’m not perfect, he knows that, but I don’t want to let him down. I can’t just tell him I’ll do better; I have to show him.

When I get home, Suds is talking on the phone. Her voice is raised, and something seems to be riling her up, the way she’s pacing back and forth in the kitchen.

“I’ll get it to you. I just don’t get paid until next week … Yes …” She scoffs. “Yes, I’ve very well aware how this works. I’ve been … yes … I’m doing the best I can.”

She slams down her phone on the counter, sighs heavily and then picks up her noodles.

“What was that about?” I ask, as I empty my pockets of change onto the counter.

“Same old shit,” she grumbles, and then twirls her fork in the cup and holds a collection of noodles high and slowly lowers them into her mouth.

“What is with the fucking two-minute noodles? You can’t live on that.”

“Well, I can. I’m still standing.”

From her tone, I can tell she’s in a mood. As if I give a shit, but what’s going on with her? Suds has been here for nearly a month now. She’s definitely lost weight. When she reaches for something high in one of the kitchen cupboards, or when she wears one of those short tops that show a peek of her flat stomach, I’ve had a glimpse of her hips. I swear her hipbones are poking out more. I don’t mind a bit of curve on a woman. At least you know they’re healthy.

“Don’t you like to eat?” I accuse her. Surely she’s not doing this on purpose? Is she bulimic or something?

“Of course I do.”

“There’s no point lying to me.”

She moves one hand to her hip and challenges me with her narrowed green eyes. “Why the fuck would I lie? I don’t care what you think.”