Toxic

Toxic

Alice Lingard

COPYRIGHT NOTICE

© 2014 Alice Lingard, all rights reserved, worldwide. No part of this ebook may be

reproduced, uploaded to the Internet or copied without the author's permission.

DISCLAIMER

The characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real

persons, dead or alive, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

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Chapter 1

“Shit, shit, shit and a whole lot more shit!” Suzy was staring at her reflection in the full length bedroom mirror. “What are you looking at you stupid fuck-up?”

When the mirror didn't reply, she carefully navigated her way on tip-toe across the carnage which was her bedroom floor. She'd already stubbed her toe on a pair of high heels which were hidden beneath a pile of dirty washing. 

Suzy slumped onto the bed, and buried her head in the pillow. What was she supposed to do now? Her flatmate, Lacey, had just told her she was moving out to live with Rory—better known as 'Raw'. It was a stupid nickname, and Lacey got really pissy every time Suzy insisted on calling him Rawhide. She was pleased for Lacey—heaven knew that girl was overdue some loving-action. And who could say 'no' to a hot bod like Rawhide's? Particularly when that hot bod was rolling in money. Suzy still couldn't get her head around how her flatmate—the Chipmunk Pizza girl—had landed herself a millionaire. Not that Suzy was even a tiny bit jealous. Not in the least. She much preferred penniless losers who were crap in bed. Why else would she surround herself with them? The only speck of light in a black hole of self-loathing had been Todd—Rawhide's younger brother. He was bat shit crazy. He'd managed to make Suzy look straight-laced, and that wasn't an easy thing to do. Lacey had gone ballistic when she'd caught Suzy and Todd in bed together. But then Lacey didn't understand the concept of a no-strings attached 'fuck'. Lacey was more a kind of '
find prince charming, fall in love, and live happily ever after
' kind of girl. Come to think of it—that approach had kind of worked out for her.

As Suzy saw it, she had four options:

Stay put and find a new flatmate.

Go grovelling back to Steve.

Call Daggers.

Call Todd.

Option one: Stay put? No way. It was time for her to move on. It just wouldn't be the same living there without Lacey. That girl could be a real pain in the bum sometimes with her constant nagging (what was wrong with a little untidy?), but they had become firm friends. Suzy couldn't bear the thought of having to train a new flatmate.

Option two: Steve had been her
so-called
boyfriend for some time.
So-called
because she'd kind of been a complete shit to him. She'd fucked other guys behind his back (nothing serious obviously—that would have been wrong). She'd even promised to move in with him, and then changed her mind at the last minute. Even so, she knew he'd still come running if she whistled. But then, on a scale of one to boring, Steve was comatose. That wasn't the worst of it. He was absolutely clueless when it came to sex. It didn't take much to make Suzy scream, but Steve hadn't even made her whimper.

Option three: Daggers was the polar opposite to Steve when it came to sex. He knew how to make her scream, and the guy could go all night. She tingled all over just at the thought of it. Unfortunately, that was all there was to Daggers. He was a great fuck, but not the kind of guy you'd want to spend more than five minutes with outside of the bedroom. He had the personality and intellect of an amoeba. Sorry Daggers—no offence.

Option four: When Todd had left, he'd asked Suzy to go with him. She'd been sorely tempted, but in the end had told him 'no'. She was still trying to remember why she'd turned him down. He hadn't exactly been devastated, but he had said she could call him if she changed her mind. Had he meant it? It was hard to be sure of anything with Todd. Did she really want to hook up with someone who was even crazier than she was?

Option five: There was no option five. She was so screwed.

“And you look like shit too!” she screamed at her reflection, after she’d managed to drag herself back out of the bed. What the hell colour was her hair supposed to be anyway? Thank god it wasn't permanent. Her clothes had a kind of slept-in look—mostly down to the fact that she
had
slept in them. The previous day, after Lacey had told her she was moving out, Suzy had had a drink or ten. Next thing she could remember was waking up on the sofa that morning.

She had to get out of the flat or she'd go crazy. Hell, she was already talking to the mirror. She thought about calling Lacey, but that would have meant facing questions about Todd. Besides, Lacey was living the dream. She didn't need
Suzy the loser
to shit all over her fluffy bunnies.

If she'd had any cash, she'd have gone into town, found a bar, and got slowly smashed. Maybe even found a hot guy who could cheer her up. But she was stony broke, so that wasn't an option.

**********

“Mum?” Suzy shouted from the hallway. “Mum?”

It was almost midday. Suzy checked the living room—it reeked of booze and cigarettes—just as it had when she'd moved out. The kitchen sink was piled high with dirty pots. The ashtray on the table was overflowing with butt ends. Empty bottles and beer cans were strewn across the floor.

“Mum?” she called again, as she made her way up the stairs. The third step from the top still creaked.

An even stronger smell of booze hit her as soon as she pushed open the bedroom door.

“Holy shit,” she said under her breath. She didn't recognise the guy with the hairy arse who was comatose on the bed. Her mum, who was lying naked beside him, was also fast asleep. Both bedside cabinets were piled high with bottles, cans and empty cigarette packets.

What had she expected? That her mum would have cleaned up her act? Why would she? She'd been the same ever since Suzy's father had walked out on them when she was ten years old. He hadn't been seen since.

Suzy made her way across the landing. Her old bedroom had hardly changed since the day she'd moved out. It was the only room in the house which didn't smell of booze, fags and sex. She cringed at some of the posters on the walls—had she really liked those boy-bands? All manner of cuddly toys were lined up on the window sill and on top of the wardrobe. She'd hated having to leave them behind, but the bedroom in her flat was already overflowing with those she'd taken with her. Those left behind hadn't made the cut.

As she made her way back downstairs, she didn't bother trying to avoid the creaky step. It would have taken an earthquake to stir those two in the bedroom. It had been a stupid idea to come back home. Home? Who was she kidding? This wasn't her home. Had it ever been?

Her mum had never actually come out and said it, but Suzy was sure she blamed her for her father walking out on them. He'd never wanted kids. Suzy couldn't remember much about him, but she did remember him hitting her mum. He was a drunk and a bully, and although he'd never physically abused Suzy, he'd never had a kind word for her either. Suzy had been pleased to see him leave, and had thought things would be better without him. It hadn't worked out that way. Her mum had turned to drink, and was soon bringing home a string of men. A few of them were nice, but some of them had made her father look like a saint.

Her mum always used to keep a tin under the sink, behind the box of pegs. It had been her stash which she'd kept hidden from her abusive husband. Suzy listened for a few seconds to make sure there was no movement upstairs. The tin was still in the same place. She used a knife to prise off the lid. There was one hundred and forty pounds in tenners. She'd intended to ask her mum for a loan, but she'd be waiting all day for her to wake up. Suzy sat at the kitchen table and stared at the cash. Is this what it had come to? Was she going to add
thief
to her already impressive CV?

Why not? Why the fuck not? Her mum owed her that much for screwing up her life.

She wouldn't take it all—half would do. She counted out seventy pounds, and stuffed it into her pocket. Chances were her mum wouldn't even realise. She didn't know what day it was most of the time, so would probably think she'd spent it herself.

It was good to get outside and breathe fresh air again.

“Suzy!” A woman appeared at the fence of the adjoining property. “Been to see your mum?”

“Hi Jean.” Suzy smiled at the woman who had been 'Auntie Jean' to her when she was a young child. They weren't actually related, but Jean Moore had been their next door neighbour ever since Suzy was a toddler.  She had children of her own—a boy and a girl—both had long since left home. “Yeah. I was just passing, so I thought I'd look in.”

“I haven't seen you for ages. How are you keeping?”

“Okay. Yeah. Thanks.” Suzy managed a weak smile.

“Have you got time for a cuppa?”

“I should be getting back.”

“Come on. I haven't seen you for ages, and I don't really get to talk to your mum these days.”

Suzy knew Jean was too polite to say:
because your mum is off her head with booze most of the time.

“Just for a minute then.”

“I have your favourite biscuits.” Jean's smile was every bit as bright as Suzy remembered.

When she'd lived at home, she'd spent as much time at Auntie Jean's house as she had in her own. As a young kid, she'd gone there to escape her father's temper. As a teenager, it had been to escape her mum's drinking and boyfriends. If it hadn't been for Jean and her husband William, she wouldn't have known what good parents could be like. She'd envied Carol and Shane, Jean's own children. When Suzy had been nine, she'd asked Jean if she would adopt her. She could still remember Jean's tears from that day.

“There you go.” Jean put a plate full of chocolate digestives next to the mug of tea. “Dark chocolate—I know you prefer them.”

“Thanks,” Suzy said, with a lump in her throat. If only her mum could have greeted her home-coming like this.

“So, tell me everything. I want to know all of your news,” Jean said.

Right up to the time when Suzy had moved out, Jean had always been the one person she could talk to. Her confidant.

“Not much to tell.” Suzy took a bite of biscuit. “I was sorry to hear about William.”

“It was a blessing in the end.” Jean glanced at the framed photographs on the mantelpiece.

“I'm sorry I didn't go to the funeral.”

“Don't worry your head about that.” Jean put her hand on Suzy's. “Where are you living now? Still in the same flat?”

“Yeah, but it looks like I might have to move out. My flatmate's moving in with her new guy.”

“Were you thinking of moving back in with your mum?”

“I don't think that would work out.”

Jean nodded.  “What will you do then?”

“I'm not sure. I'll sort something out.” Suzy forced a smile. “What are Carol and Shane doing?”

“Carol still lives nearby—with her fiancé Peter—a nice young man. They're going to get married next year. She comes over two or three times a week. Shane is working in London. He's still single. I see him two or three times a year, but we speak on the phone every week.”

Suzy picked up her third biscuit. “Do you know who the man is with Mum?”

Jean looked a little uncomfortable. “There's been a few.”

Suzy wasn't surprised. “She's going to kill herself with the booze. Maybe it would have been better if I hadn't moved out.”

“You can't blame yourself, Suzy. You mum was never the same after your father left.” Jean squeezed Suzy's hand. “You have to get on with your own life now. Have you got a boyfriend?”