Finders Keepers by Edie Baylis (8 ebook reader .TXT) 📗

a bikini girl, but it wasn’t like she was lying on the beach. This whole ridiculous ensemble was the only thing she’d come up with to aid her plans. Her nose wrinkled, not quite believing she was reduced to this in the pursuit of her dreams.

But she had to be careful. Not personally having any knowledge of the subject, she’d done some digging and the trick was not changing too much too soon. Bringing the screen of her mobile back to life, Lena crossed her long legs and sat on the bed. Jonah wouldn’t be back for a while, so she’d got plenty of time.

Flicking through the open tabs of her internet app, she found the site she’d been studying earlier. Her mouth twisted in distaste as she glanced through the photos, centring on the people who were naturally slim like her.

What possessed people to want to publicly document how fat they became week by week until they morphed from a slender size eight into a gargantuan beachball by the end of forty weeks was beyond her, but by the looks of it, it was a fairly popular practice.

Now, what was she supposed to be? 8, 9, 10 weeks? How far along had she told Jonah she was? Come on, Lena – think.

She gritted her teeth. Grabbing a quart bottle of vodka from the zipped compartment of her handbag, she unscrewed the top and took a good few gulps. Now she’d have to use that repulsive mouthwash again before Jonah returned. How many more weeks did she have to do this shit for? And this...

She glanced at the kitchen roll on the bed. This was one step beyond the bloody pale.

Men didn’t notice stuff, but now Gwen had made it clear she doubted the authenticity of this baby thing, she had no choice but to ensure no one became suspicious.

Studying the photos on her phone, she flicked from one to the next, then another and back again. Right. Ok.

Pulling a whole host of sheets of the ultra-quilted kitchen roll off she carefully folded the layers into a long rectangular pad, then did the same with another bunch of sheets and smoothed them down to ensure no lumpy bits.

With a deep sigh of resignation, she carefully fed the padding through the right leg of her swimsuit and adjusted it into place. Turning sideways, Lena looked at herself in the mirror. That looked exactly what it was. Fake.

Readjusting the padding again, she looked forlornly at her reflection. Too big.

Lena carefully extracted some of the layers and went through the same process. That was better. A very slight bump. And it looked pretty damn realistic, even if she did say her herself.

Pulling a dress from the wardrobe, she slipped it on and smoothed the lycra down over her “bump”. Her face screwed up. It looked too obvious, plus the lines of the swimming costume were clear.

Irritated, she reached for the vodka and took another swig whilst she rummaged around for a less clingy dress. For fuck’s sake.

Putting on a different dress, she stared in the mirror. That was better. Much better. A very slight hint of a bump; noticeable, but not blatant. Fuck you, Gwen.

Lena scowled at her reflection again. She felt disgusting. A fat, flabby bastard. She pushed her pink glossy lips together. Swallow it, Lena. It will be worth it in the end.

Grabbing the kitchen roll, she shoved it into the bottom of her wardrobe. She’d need to add more sheets every fortnight until she no longer had to keep this charade up. Plus she’d have to make sure Jonah didn’t see her naked, which also meant she’d be very frustrated for the next few weeks too. For God’s sake.

Lena finished the last of the vodka, glad for the warming sensation it brought. She stared at the paper bump and gingerly touched it. Did it feel real? She didn’t know. What did it matter?

Feeling stupidly self-conscious, she grabbed a thin jacket and slipped it on. The bump would only need to be glimpsed occasionally. But how would she deal with no sex for the next 7 or 8 very long weeks... Damn Gwen and her suspicions.

Lena glanced at the clock. Time for a couple of lines of coke and then she’d better dig out that mouthwash.

Nine

SAUL SHIFTED UNCOMFORTABLY in the cramped confines of the passenger seat of Keith’s car. ‘You sent Team B out on the collections?’

Keith moved out to the outside lane of the M40. ‘That’s what you said in the meeting, wasn’t it?’

‘Yep,’ Saul agreed. It had been good informing the enforcement teams they would be taking orders directly from him from now on. There were several men remaining who had been present in his team originally and it was good to see them still involved, but many of the faces in this room this afternoon were new. Keith had hand-picked them and said they could be left to their own devices with minimum guidance, so Saul was quietly confident they were decent. That didn’t mean he wouldn’t keep a very close eye. He also intended to be present himself on a lot of the collections.

Saul grinned. The gaffer being there always had the effect of instilling an extra amount of fear – from the punters to the staff alike. He’d never been one to sit behind a desk and not get his hands dirty like Jonah had taken to doing. Oh no, he’d be getting involved. Well, he would be once all this other business was sorted and that wouldn’t take much longer. Not now he was on the case.

‘Tell me again what this prick reported.’

Keith grinned. He’d been pleased with what the stoner had come back with and he knew Saul was too. It was more information than either of them expected and put a whole new slant on things.

‘The girl said they’re still at the son’s gaff and didn’t know whether they would return to the Amityville