Chapter 4 then. If, like me you have been devouring Fighting Loudly this past few weeks, you may find my stuff meagre fare, but in my own little way, I'm trying to keep the flame alive. Naomily is what counts. So anything written is good for me. Thanks for stopping by…

Naomi

Dawn came with a sullen greyness which suited my situation perfectly. But unlike the previous morning, it wasn't a ferocious hangover that greeted me when my brain groaned into life. Instead, my head felt like it had been wrapped in soft cotton...all warm and comforting...like someone had decided to give me a mellow wake up for once in my miserable life. I actually smiled to myself as my eyes opened. A hangover free morning was something to relish lately...so I snuggled deeper under the duvet and stretched out a leg behind me.

The resulting grunt and sleepy sigh froze me for a second, before my eyes opened again, this time wide open in full adrenaline overdrive.

What. The. Fuck?

"Alright princess?" the voice came from behind my head. I felt like someone had plugged me into the mains...a man...in my bed...and I sleep…I sleep…

Naked

I sat up abruptly, clutching the duvet to my chest. Lying beside me in the single bed was possibly my worst nightmare. A grinning...and bare chested James Cook. His arms were over his head, hands linked behind it. A totally inappropriate pair of blue eyes raked over me...The duvet hid my miserable assets...but fuck...he'd been there all night?

Cook winked and yawned expansively.

"Sorry about the shock Naomikins...got a bit cold on the floor luv?...I didn't think you'd mind if I slipped in to get some warmth...you do like to talk in your sleep though..,.took me ages to get off?"

He winked again at the not so subtle innuendo and I clutched the duvet tighter to my bare tits.

"You have about half a fucking nano second to get your sorry arse out of my bed Cook" I growled "...I should have known you'd take liberties...wait...are you naked under there?"

My horrified gaze took in his bare torso...then I saw that his trousers and boxer shorts were adorning my dressing table.

"Uh...yeah...well blondie...you were well asleep, in the scud after we'd finished off that monster Sensimilia stash and Cookie…. just likes to fit in, you know...so I..."

With an accompanying meaty slap to his grinning face, I gave him my very best Medusa look, known to freeze cheeky lads to stone in the past. But of course, even as he winced at the blow, the grin was coming back. Naturally...he'd finally done it, hadn't he?...Finally spent the night naked with Naomi Campbell...everything from here on in was a fucking bonus now to the twat.

"Get out...get fucking OUT!" I yelled, then realised I might not be as lucky as yesterday...there might be a random relative still in the house. I'd not even looked at the green faced alarm clock by the bed. "Get out of my fucking bed Cook or..." I hissed as quietly as I could. Luckily there were no sounds of alarm from downstairs at my outburst so far.

Unfazed, Cook threw back his side of the single duvet and I muffled a disgusted "ugh" as what looked horrifyingly like a full mast Cook morning glory bounced meatily between his legs as he nimbly went for his creased 501's.

Jesus...and I thought today was gonna be better than yesterday?

As he dressed, and I studied the pattern on the wallpaper opposite without moving my head, the events of last night came back to me.

Cook turning up unannounced, complete with blinking offender leg bracelet. Giving me some cock and bull story about being released on bail for appeal (it turned out that the murder charge had now been dropped, as Foster had been found to have killed poor Freddie and looked likely to add Cook to his list of victims). He was still on bail for those drugs charges though...oh, and giving that Shanky guy a proper hammering at the party. But being Cook, he couldn't just keep his head down until the new trial...instead, he'd burgled his mums house while she was in Rio, made off with a hefty pile of gold krugerands and several thousand pounds from her secret (well, secret from the Revenue) stash, then done a bunk on the first train out of Bristol. Stopping only to sweet talk my stupid mother into giving him this address.

Last night I was stupid...but the morning light brought some sort of sanity. Company and the offering of a substantial bag of dried green fronds had blunted my usual common sense. It had been a while since I'd seen anyone from Bristol and Cook...well he's a fucking expert at getting round inconvenient objections. While I was quizzing him about his legal status and who informed on me, he nonchalantly rolled a fat one and pulled a small bottle of Chivas Regal out of his side pocket. Before I could form the words 'get the fuck out', he was sitting on my bed with that annoying cheeky grin, holding out the first of several spliffs.

He was dead right on one count anyway. The Sensimilia was epic. Two joints in I was so buzzed I passed on another slug from the bottle. He of course had no compunction finishing it for me and asking if I had any beers as a chaser. My sarcastic remark about whisky being the chaser to beer, not the other way round, just made him laugh. It was like that time I corrected his touch to touche...waste of fucking time. James Cook and English grammar are total strangers…

But I definitely didn't intend to spend the night with him. Slobbing on the floor was one thing...I was so wasted by 10 o clock that when he was in the bathroom, peeing like a horse, I stripped off clumsily and staggered into my single bed. In my wobbly state, I didn't stop to think about changing my night time routine. I must have figured that he'd stay on the floor and not bother me in my nakedness.

Well, that fucking idea went pear shaped while I was asleep. The crafty bastard snuck in and no doubt had a good chuckle at what I would say this morning when I woke up with his erection about two inches from my butt. I shivered again at how close a proximity that well used organ had got to my fanny. Closer than it had any right to be, thats for sure.

But with him now dressed and me not, it was time to find out if my relatives had vacated the premises. If not, we were stuck up here until the coast was clear. I gave him a clear, blood curdling warning about what would happen to his testicles if he turned round while I was putting on a tee and joggers, and for once, he did as he was told. Dressed now too, I opened the bedroom door and crept out onto the landing. Fuck the house was freezing. My hitherto unknown relatives being as stingy as a Scotsman's raffle, the heating was on for about ten seconds in the morning and 20 in the evening. But I had no reason to complain...I was an unwanted and inconvenient guest...only here because my mother is hard to resist in pleading mode. It was supposed to be temporary...like really temporary...but with no spare money and knowing no one else in London, I was up the poverbial Swanny without steering assistance.

After checking downstairs, I went back up to get Cook. He came out of my bedroom with the bag of krugerands jingling and a bulge in his denim jacket which meant he had mummy's stolen stash with him too.

I offered him a token breakfast of toast and peanut butter...mainly because there wasn't anything else in the fucking cupboard, but he declined.

"Naah princess...a man needs some proper grub after all that weed. I've still got the munchies...as well as a semi from snuggling up to that peachy little arse all night...what do you say we find a cafe and have some man food? Full English...doorstep bread and a gallon of coffee?"

I'd like to say that I was noble and firm, but thats a crock of shite. OK...I gave him another slap round the head for the 'arse' line, but the fried breakfast was too much to resist.

I let him shower before I did...I didn't want him hanging about near my underwear drawer any longer than necessary, and inside twenty minutes we were walking down the cold street to the greasy spoon I knew was on the corner of the main road.

An hour later, I was sitting back in my chair, stomach bulging from the mammoth fry up he'd ordered for both of us. My mother would have torn up her National Trust card in protest if she'd seen me then. Bacon slices, three sausages, two eggs, fried tomato's, fried bread and baked beans. Plus three rounds of farmhouse bread and two mugs of strong, sweet tea. For the first time since I'd arrived in London,. I felt vaguely content.

Cook is an arsehole...thats not in doubt. But he's my arsehole. One of the few people who know me...properly know me? Him and...well, thats somewhere I don't want to go any more, isn't it?

I let him give out a long and disgusting belch (luckily the only other diners were two old dears who looked like a hand grenade could go off next to them without noticing), and leaned forward, groaning a bit at the fullness of my stomach.

"So...what's the plan Cookie…?" I said knocking his hand away from my plate, where a stray baked bean was being hunted by him.

"Dunno blondie" he said, nicking the lonely bean anyway and smirking at me as he chewed it. "...I've got cash...but the coins will need selling. Know any moody jewellers?"

I shook my head in disbelief. Really?

"Do I look like someone who knows shady jewellers James?" I said flatly.

"Naah blondie...you look like someone who's had her heart broken by a little redhead?"

I shook my head. Bastard.

"That was low Cookie, even for you...can we just not go there? I think between the two of us, I might be up shit creek, but at least I have a fucking paddle?"

He grinned, but for a brief second, I saw the little boy that lives behind those cornflower eyes. Cook always gives off the jack the lad vibe, but inside, he's a kid who never had a mother worth a damn and a totally absent father. I think they call it abandonment issues. For a second we looked at each other before he spoke again.

"Yeah, well...you keep my secrets and I'll keep yours Naomikins?...I ain't gonna make old bones, we both know that...so why not live fast, if you're gonna die young?"

I swallowed hard at that. Because he was right. Living the way he did...he'd be lucky to make 25, let alone 30. Suddenly I felt lucky compared to him and my throat constricted tightly. Wanker he might be, but he was as close a friend as I'd ever had.

I blinked to stop a treacherous tear forming. He'd only laugh at me and take the piss. We both knew each others secrets...had done for a while, so I resisted the impulse to get nostalgic and smirked back.

"Amen to that" I said "...well, much as I'd like to stay and reminisce about old times...I'm supposed to be enrolling in this fucking post 6th form college my mum has been on about for weeks. I've taken my A's...they were pretty good about me doing a bunk...mum spun them some line about my granny dying on me. But I've promised to knuckle down and be a good student till the results come in. I think Goldsmiths is fucked...they don't give second chances for emotional wrecks who get their heart broken by treacherous bitches...but...?"

Cook looked pained at that. I remembered he'd always had a soft spot for Em...her. Not just because he harboured vague hopes of shagging her...but I think he genuinely had feelings for her...mainly because she made me happy. But that hadn't been true for months. Ever since I set that disaster ball rolling with a stupid afternoon grope with the late Sophia Moore.

He sighed and put down his mug of tea.

"Look Naomi...I get you're hurting. Finding your girlfriend playing hide the finger with a so called 'mate' is about as shit as it gets. But life goes on, sugar tits. Believe me, the word is she's as broken up about it all as you are...why don't you give her a ca..."

"NO Cook..." I said angrily, making the Turkish bloke behind the ramp look up sharply. "...we're done...me and...well me and her. I cheated, she cheated...its all fucked now?"

He shook his head sadly and sucked at his teeth.

"You say that Naomikins...but remember, this is me you're talking to? I wrote the book on putting up a front? You and Em..." he stopped when I shot him a look of pure malice. "… you and little Red have something special…?"

"Did have...past tense Cook" I said, folding my arms for emphasis. "Anyway, can we get off the subject of my miserable love life and talk about what you're gonna do next? Sleeping on my floor isn't an option again. We were lucky last night. The family were out and about...but if you come back again, you're bound to be spotted. They're antsy enough about one unwanted lodger, two and we'll both get kicked out?

Cook shrugged.

"Well...I did have a suggestion to make?"

I raised one eyebrow and waited. Cooks suggestions normally begin and end with something gynaecological. This should be interesting.

"I've got a few thousand here...plus the krugerands. Enough to rent something decent. If I flash the cash, some greedy bastard will ignore the lack of references? What do you reckon...you and me...a two bed place and fuck that poxy box room you're squatting in?"

My eyes went wide.

"Are you having a fucking laugh?" I said incredulously "You and me...in a flat together? Did you get a knock on the head in Her Majesties Hotel Bristol?...we've had this discussion...you like fanny...but so do I Cook...it doesn't really add up, does it? Face it mate, you're never getting that technicolour todger any nearer to my unmentionables than you did this morning...end of"

He grinned widely.

"Naah babe...that ship has sailed, even Cookie knows that. But you can't be happy living in that tiny fucking room. Look...I'll even put the lease in your name? If I get lifted, or have to go to court again...you'll be safe...I'll stick down a few months in advance...just in case"

It was a stupid, short sighted idea. A non starter...completely crazy even.

So, three hours later, my pre college interview bumped, why was it that I was heading towards a two bedroom flat over a sandwich shop in the High Street with one James Cook? Oh...and a newly cut set of shiny Yale keys.

XXX

Three miles from them, a train was just pulling into St Pancras. A train carrying one Emily Jane Fitch...clutching a small post it note with an address on it…

Longer (just) but I am writing every day now, so maybe the next one will be a big one?