Read Online Stockholm Syndrome 2- 17 Black and 29 Red by Richard Rider - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Richard Rider
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the living room when Pip goes downstairs. He's asleep. He always sleeps in the day, he gets it out the way while the kids are at school so he never has to miss a breakfast or a school run just because he's tired after working late nights. Joe's sitting in his playpen, quiet and serious, turning brightly-coloured plushie bricks over in his hands like he's teaching himself the finer points of architecture.
"Alright, Joe-joe?"
"Alright, Pip-pip." He smiles then. He's got the best smile in the world, and mad hair that won't do as it's told. "Daddy sleeping."
"Yeah, lazy bastard, ain't he?" He goes over to lift the baby out - he's not a baby any more, really, he's two and a half and just lately he seems to outgrow all his clothes in seconds. He's got tiny combat trousers on and a Jimi Hendrix t-shirt, both only a few weeks old, and they already want replacing. "It's nearly lunchtime, you hungry?"
"Nana."
"Banana, yeah?"
"Yeah."
"Alright."
"No, Sian's having him," Olly mumbles sleepily. He sits up, wiping his mouth where he's dribbled and laughing at himself a bit self-consciously. "I never meant to fall asleep, sorry."
"It's okay."
"Yeah. Sian's coming round any minute, she's having him today. You gonna be good for your mum, mate?"
"Yeah," Joe says, but then he throws the soft brick he's still holding right at Olly's face, so it doesn't look likely. Olly cracks up laughing again and heads into the kitchen to start packing some stuff in a bag for him, and when he steps around Pip to get to the door he touches him lightly on the hip. No words, just a casual touch as he's passing. It's better than words, in a way. Nothing's changed. Nothing's weird or awkward.
Half an hour later, when Joe's gone and Olly's cooking them pasta for lunch while Pip makes coffee, Pip turns round from putting the milk back in the fridge and says, "You do know you owe me two now, right?" It's just to see what he says but he doesn't go for it, he just slaps Pip on the arm with a tomato-saucey spatula and tells him to shut up.
But later on, when important things like food and tidying up and stripping off the mangled bed are all done and there's nothing left to waste time on except conversation, Olly flops down on the couch where Pip's flicking through the Sky channels and takes the remote off him so he can hold his hand. The telly stays there on Kerrang, blaring out some inane emo rock song while they sit there in silence and Olly traces his finger over the number 15 tattooed on Pip's wrist.
"You know if you was my boyfriend I'd never walk out on you like all them stupid women, right?" Pip says quietly.
"Yeah. I know."
"And I wouldn't get pregnant."
"Thank fuck. Your mood swings are bad enough already."
"I'm housetrained. I'm good with kids. I'm very very rich. I swear I'm better in bed when I ain't hungover. I can do your hair for free. I'm-"
"You had me at 'you can put it in if you want'," Olly interrupts, and Pip creases laughing and kisses him.
8.
February 2012
I dont know why I started writing my diary again. I feel well stupid. I think the whole reason I started it years and years ago when I was like 13 was cos I always knew I was gonna be famous and then I'd need notes for my auto biography later on. Thats stupid as well. I dont want to be famous no more, I was kind of famous for a bit but not for nothing I did, just cos of my Mum and Dad winning the lottery then cos of the kidnap thing and that aint the same. I just want people to like me. Haha what a wanker. I feel stupid writing where nobody gets to see it but then I dont WANT people to see it cos its stupid. I dont know how people write diary's, I never really worked that one out. Who are you writing to? I dont know how your supposed to write. Is it like your talking to someone? Like on lj you write as if someones reading, even if nobody comments you know its out there and people can read it so your writing to them.
Maybe I COULD write my auto
"Alright, Joe-joe?"
"Alright, Pip-pip." He smiles then. He's got the best smile in the world, and mad hair that won't do as it's told. "Daddy sleeping."
"Yeah, lazy bastard, ain't he?" He goes over to lift the baby out - he's not a baby any more, really, he's two and a half and just lately he seems to outgrow all his clothes in seconds. He's got tiny combat trousers on and a Jimi Hendrix t-shirt, both only a few weeks old, and they already want replacing. "It's nearly lunchtime, you hungry?"
"Nana."
"Banana, yeah?"
"Yeah."
"Alright."
"No, Sian's having him," Olly mumbles sleepily. He sits up, wiping his mouth where he's dribbled and laughing at himself a bit self-consciously. "I never meant to fall asleep, sorry."
"It's okay."
"Yeah. Sian's coming round any minute, she's having him today. You gonna be good for your mum, mate?"
"Yeah," Joe says, but then he throws the soft brick he's still holding right at Olly's face, so it doesn't look likely. Olly cracks up laughing again and heads into the kitchen to start packing some stuff in a bag for him, and when he steps around Pip to get to the door he touches him lightly on the hip. No words, just a casual touch as he's passing. It's better than words, in a way. Nothing's changed. Nothing's weird or awkward.
Half an hour later, when Joe's gone and Olly's cooking them pasta for lunch while Pip makes coffee, Pip turns round from putting the milk back in the fridge and says, "You do know you owe me two now, right?" It's just to see what he says but he doesn't go for it, he just slaps Pip on the arm with a tomato-saucey spatula and tells him to shut up.
But later on, when important things like food and tidying up and stripping off the mangled bed are all done and there's nothing left to waste time on except conversation, Olly flops down on the couch where Pip's flicking through the Sky channels and takes the remote off him so he can hold his hand. The telly stays there on Kerrang, blaring out some inane emo rock song while they sit there in silence and Olly traces his finger over the number 15 tattooed on Pip's wrist.
"You know if you was my boyfriend I'd never walk out on you like all them stupid women, right?" Pip says quietly.
"Yeah. I know."
"And I wouldn't get pregnant."
"Thank fuck. Your mood swings are bad enough already."
"I'm housetrained. I'm good with kids. I'm very very rich. I swear I'm better in bed when I ain't hungover. I can do your hair for free. I'm-"
"You had me at 'you can put it in if you want'," Olly interrupts, and Pip creases laughing and kisses him.
8.
February 2012
I dont know why I started writing my diary again. I feel well stupid. I think the whole reason I started it years and years ago when I was like 13 was cos I always knew I was gonna be famous and then I'd need notes for my auto biography later on. Thats stupid as well. I dont want to be famous no more, I was kind of famous for a bit but not for nothing I did, just cos of my Mum and Dad winning the lottery then cos of the kidnap thing and that aint the same. I just want people to like me. Haha what a wanker. I feel stupid writing where nobody gets to see it but then I dont WANT people to see it cos its stupid. I dont know how people write diary's, I never really worked that one out. Who are you writing to? I dont know how your supposed to write. Is it like your talking to someone? Like on lj you write as if someones reading, even if nobody comments you know its out there and people can read it so your writing to them.
Maybe I COULD write my auto
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