"If I was you"

Said Zoey indignantly:"I would have told the old
bitch to drop dead!" I had confided to her about Pru
and the lunch time episode. I really should never
share my woes with a sixteen year old with a pink
fixation.
"I think she got the point Zoey. It's Alan I'm worrying
about, he seems to be really confused. Always a bad
sign."
He did come around last night, for what it was
worth. He seemed to be only in body not spirit.
Alan's brain was other wise engaged. Even when
we 'made love' it really felt like there was a third
party there. Not even one I would like to shag,
no Depp , Bloom or Kline. Just a ghost of
the ex-wife. Pru-mental.
"I'm sure he will choose you, your so funny!"
Gushed Zoey, bless her pink cotton socks!
"Thanks kid, but I think I'm in for a rough ride
with this one."
"It only seems a little while ago that you were
embarrassed by him." She reminded me.
"Yep. That was my problem, oh he really is a
good guy and I fancy him rotten! I think I've
made him think that I'm not after a deep
relationship, more of a comfort shag arrangment."
"Well your just have to show him otherwise. Do
you love him?" Her dark eyes twinkled away at me,
I hated that love stuff all sticky and painful. I
shuffled from foot to foot.
"I dunno, I'm not good with romance, give me
a cave man with a Harley and I'm happy." I admitted.
"But don't you like it when a man cares for you,
thinks your pretty and wants to spend every last
moment with you?" She was actually beginning to
irritate me now. I think she was getting close to
my painful 'centre' that all my shrinks have always
gone on about. I hedged my bets now.
"Nope, I like a man to know his place, at the
bottom of the heap. My friends and job will always
come first."
"What if you have children?"
"I won't! Imagine me as a mum? Get real!" I
laughed, I was in the lucky position that my
best girls were all childless too. I tried not too
think about the future.
"I think you would make a good mum!" Zoey
gave me a quick hug and went on to paint her
nails. Sixteen-brain of the butterfly , attention
span of an ant. I wished I was sixteen.
When I returned home all of Alan's stuff was gone.
He had'nt even left a note!
But somebody had left me something, a disgusting,
crudely written scrawl, written in god knows what
on loo paper.
BECKA
YOU NASTY BITCH! LEAVE MY MAN ALONE
OR ELSE!
I felt quite cold, so Alan was mentioned, could
my postie be Pru? But my instinct told me she
was not the right girl.
I phoned the police and waited.
Becka