Forty (Danny); Emptiness Inside.
Day Trippers
It appears that one of Britain's biggest theme parks is not just a hit with teenage holiday makers. Stars and crew from Fox Studios were seen yesterday galavanting around Thorpe Park dressed in wacky costumes.
Twenty-eight-year-old Heather Burton (ne� Lloyd-Gale) was clad in a revealing white and green lycra ensemble, while cinematographer Amy Hewitt was dressed head-to-toe in red PVC. Few could keep their eyes off the daring pair, and actor Tim Roth appeared to be finding Ms Hewitt particularly irresistable--
It appears that one of Britain's biggest theme parks is not just a hit with teenage holiday makers. Stars and crew from Fox Studios were seen yesterday galavanting around Thorpe Park dressed in wacky costumes.
Twenty-eight-year-old Heather Burton (ne� Lloyd-Gale) was clad in a revealing white and green lycra ensemble, while cinematographer Amy Hewitt was dressed head-to-toe in red PVC. Few could keep their eyes off the daring pair, and actor Tim Roth appeared to be finding Ms Hewitt particularly irresistable--
Screw this fucking article! I don't want to be told about what a wonderful time they're all having! I drop the paper to the table and idly pick up the pull-out section that falls from it. There's nothing quite as amusing to me as seeing which poor bastard the media have crucified this week.
What I see makes me choke, my heart coming to a complete standstill for what feels like eternity. Amy and Tim Roth. Fucking hell. This should not hurt me as much as it does... I should not be shaking like this! Oh God... I don't need this... I can't believe I'm seeing this... I don't try to read the article below the stupidly large picture. Or even the caption for said stupidly large picture. Fucking hell! I never imagined it would get like this... Always rumour, never truth, never substance.... But now...
Now it's real. The reality and bleakness of my situation hits me like a slap. I've lost her. I've lost Amy. The logical, cynical side of me reminds me that she was never mine to lose, certainly not officially... But... Oh fucking hell!
"What?!" I snap as I snatch up my ringing phone. I don't care who it is.
"Danny?" Soft, hesitant voice, sweet and innocent, lovely. It's Heather.
"What?" I repeat. Like I said; I don't care who it is.
"Could you give me permission to perform Boingo songs?"
"Yeah, sure, fine, whatever, go ahead and knock yourself out." I snipe in the bitchiest tone I can muster. I hear Heather sigh, but I don't feel guilty. She shouldn't call me when I'm in a mood like this.
"Thanks Danny... And... Sorry." She hangs up before I can question (a) what the fuck she wants with my old music, and (b) what the fuck she meant by 'sorry'. Sorry about what, exactly?!
Chapter 39 ; Contents ; Chapter 41
