Intoxicated

by Stacey McCoy

  INTOXICATED

  By Stacey McCoy

  Copyright © 2016 Stacey McCoy

  All Rights Reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  This is a work of fiction.

  Names, characters and places are products of the authors imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations or persons, living or dead is entirely coincidental.

  ISBN-10:1534814906

  ISBN-13: 978-1534814905

  Reprint 2016

  For my husband

  Without you, I’d be lost

  About the book

  The idea for my debut novel, INTOXICATED came to me while attending my girlfriend’s hen’s party in Melbourne. We had tickets to see The Princes of the Night stage show at Crown Casino. I remember during the show looking out across the crowd and thinking to myself ‘Is this what women want? What would I want if I were single? Would I want the attention of a male burlesque dancer?’ By asking myself these questions this story began to take shape.

  By the time the weekend was over I had the beginning, middle and end of this fictional novel planted firmly in my mind. I couldn’t wait to get home to write it, yet I’d never before in my life written anything let alone a full length novel.

  I hope you enjoy this book and all my future novels. Thank you for your support. I fear you’ll never truly know how much I appreciate it.

  CHAPTER one

  I wasn’t able to be by my husband’s side the moment he died.

  But SHE was.

  I remember kissing him goodbye as I declined his offer to head off in the truck with him that day. It was one of those short little pecks on the cheek that don’t really mean much, they just become habit after years spent happily married. Sam knew I loved him, I just wish I had told him that day.

  My late husband was taking a load of grain to the mill when the brakes on the truck failed. SHE was travelling towards him in her car with her three children when he made the decision that would save their lives, but ultimately cost him his. A corner was fast approaching and even though she may have had the sun in her eyes Sam new there wasn’t enough room for the both of them.

  Maybe if she’d pulled off the road more Sam may have been able to have made the turn.

  Maybe.

  Instead Sam drove his truck into a tree, to avoid hitting them, when he realised he was driving a forty-tonne out-of-control bullet.

  If she had not have been there at that moment in time then he could have steered the truck across the road through a fence and into a paddock filled with smaller trees which may have eventually stopped the semi and most likely saved his life.

  Fate had other plans for us that day.

  The worst part of it all is when I did arrive on the scene I was told by a police officer that I was too late.

  Sam was dead.

  I was held back as the officer told me I would be better off remembering Sam the way he was the last time I saw him, rather than have the memory of death blanketing his face, scarring me for the rest of my life. Filled with disbelief, I watched as SHE walked away from my husband’s smashed up truck aided by another officer, as I collapsed, helpless and scared on the dark-blue, gravel road.

  SHE was there.

  I was not.

  And Sam is dead.

  Feeling immediately lonely, beyond cheated and fiercely angry I was left with the unforgiving task of telling our children their father was no longer with us. I’ll never forget how quickly their little faces filled with terror, anger and sadness that day as I spoke the words ‘Daddy’s gone.’ I was then forced to watch them die inside as feelings and emotions no 8 and 6 year old should ever have to experience consumed them. I’ll never forgive the woman who caused my children and me such an intensely high level of extreme heartache.

  None of the locals know who the stranger is, and I can tell you, I don’t care to know her name, but her face remains clearly etched in my nightmares.

  SHE got to be with Sam when he died. SHE helped cause his death and SHE stole from me my husband’s precious last words. Words I will never hear.

  ***

  It’s nearly been one whole year without my husband by my side. Our children Ashley, now 9 and Aiden, 7 are my only reason to live now. Well, that is if you call this living.

  My days don’t mean much, they all roll into one. I work, delivering farm merchandise. The kids go to school. We eat. We sleep. Me barely. Then we get up and do it all again. I think I’ve mentally blocked out the first few months of hell we went through after Sam’s death. I know I was a complete basket case, who wouldn’t be, but I like to think I’ve been able to pull myself together a bit since then. I’ve had too, for Ash and Aiden’s sake.

  I miss Sam. I miss his smile. I miss his strong, sure embrace. I miss holding his hand.

  These last few months I’ve missed Sam on more of a physical level. I miss our intimacy.

  I want to feel hot calloused hands all over my body again. I want to feel the two day growth on a man’s face tickle my neck. I want to be physically and emotionally involved with someone again, but who am I kidding, I’m a widowed mother of two in her late thirties. It’s not an appealing profile for any man to want to respond to. Beside I hate the whole internet dating thing. I’d much rather meet someone at a bar or in a supermarket then I’d be able to gauge who they really are rather than waste my time deciphering what their answers to their profile questions really mean.

  And seriously, what the hell am I supposed to say to a guy? Do I start a conversation with “Hi, I’m Kat. I’m a widowed mother of two who wants to have sex with you.”

  I don’t think that’ll get me too far.

  The thing that really worries me, even if I were to meet the man of my dreams, when would be the right time to introduce him to the kids. And how would they react? And besides I’m not ready to talk to them about their future, and at this stage, imaginary daddy just yet. God, what would my friends and family think? I’m scared to talk to anyone about my needs as a woman, because I’m scared they will judge me. Maybe a year isn’t long enough. Maybe they’ll think I never truly loved Sam if I’m willing to bring home another guy. It’s not like I’d bring any old guy home. He’d have to be pretty bloody perfect.

  He’d have to be like Sam.

  Anyway it’s all just a nice little day dream of mine. I’m not about to upset my kids and my life for some random hook-up. No matter how lonely I am.

  Right now though, I’ve got bigger things to worry about.

  Today is my 37th birthday. My first without Sam.

  Being a Saturday my alarm remains silent, yet my body clock and my kids give me my usual weekend wake up call.

  Ashley and Aiden come running into my room and jump on me while screaming, “HAPPY BIRTHDAY MUM.”

  My children present me with cards they have made. They’re beautiful. So heartfelt. Then Ashley pulls something else out of the bag which her present for me is in and says, “Here mum, I found this for you.”

  “Where did you find this sweetie?” I take the envelope she’s holding out to me and turn it over in my hand. I recognise the hand writing immediately. It’s a card from Sam. My heart plummets toward my stomach as tears well in my eyes.

  “Daddy asked me to hide it in my room for you last year, but I forgot to give it to you,” says Ashley. She notices my tears, but her smile doesn’t fade the way mine does.

  Sam used to always hide birthday cards and presents for me in the kid’s rooms. His theory was if he gave them the card or present to hide then only they would know where to find it again and theref
ore I wouldn’t find it. Whenever the kids had hidden other objects we were never able to find them, but they knew where to look because it made perfect sense to put the TV remote under the seat of Aiden’s ride on truck. Honestly, why didn’t I think to look there?

  To see tears in my eyes makes Aiden sad and he too begins to cry. He’s more in tune with his emotions compared to other boys his age. I suppose that’s because most other boys his age haven’t lost their father.

  Ashley doesn’t like that we’re now both crying so it takes all of a second for her to join us. We lay in bed and cry together for a while. Not a good start to a happy day, I tell myself

  I can’t open the card yet. Even though it was meant for last year’s birthday I know it will break me to read it and I’m not strong enough to expose myself like that in front of the kids yet, so I tuck it under my pillow and get up.

  The kids help me make breakfast and I open the presents they have given me.

  “When did you two have time to go shopping?” I ask as my morning brain plays catch up and becomes aware that Ash and Aiden are much too young to go shopping on their own and there’s nowhere close by for them to shop around here anyway.

  “Aunt Josie took us last school holidays,” Aiden tells me.

  “Ahh that makes sense. Thank you, both of you.”

  My sister, Josie, is so thoughtful. She’s always one step ahead. Ashley has given me a beautiful necklace with a huge coloured studded heart hanging from a gold chain. It sounds out there, but it’s actually very now. I love it. Aiden has given me some gardening gloves and a can of Mozzie repellent. He’s a practical man, just like his father. “No point spending money on crap if you can spend money on something that will be useful,” Sam used to say. It only took Sam six years to instil the same way of thinking into our son. Maybe it’s a genetic trait.

  Aiden knows I like to garden and he knows the mozzies love me. I love his gift too. I thank my children with the biggest kisses and cuddles I can muster. Once letting go, we tuck into our brekkie.

  Suddenly the phone rings. Caller ID lets me know it’s my always upbeat friend, Alex. I greet my friend the same way I always do, “Hey girlfriend, what’s up?”

  “Hi ya love, HAPPY BIRTHDAY. Are you okay?”

  One second her voice is Soprano high the next Contralto low. I can’t help but laugh.

  “I’m fine thank you. The kids and I are just having breakfast and I have received some beautiful and thoughtful presents.”

  “That’s great. Sooo…do you think Ash and Aiden would mind if you dropped them off somewhere for a couple of nights?”

  “Why? What are you up to young lady?”

  Most of my friends are younger than me. They make me feel young. I love it.

  “Well the girls and I are kidnapping you and taking you to Melbourne for a girl’s weekend. We’ll be back sometime Monday. You up for it?”

  Being stuck in a serious state of depression this last year has taken its toll on me. I know I haven’t been much of a friend to the girls lately, they’ve obviously gone to great lengths to organise this for me and I appreciate them dearly for it.

  The city lights might be the change of scenery I need. These wide open spaces out here used to make me feel free and released. This last year though, the vast expansion of land has had the adverse effect on me, making me feel lonely and isolated.

  “Hell yes I’m up for it.” I’m so happy to hear Alex’s plans for the weekend. I think it’s time I got out of the house and kicked up my heels. “Have you organised accommodation yet?”

  Alex is a fly by the seat of your pants kind of gal. I have no doubt that maybe a few of the other girls only found out about this little trip yesterday. Me, I prefer to be a lot more organised. I’d have this whole thing booked and sorted weeks ago.

  “Nup not yet, just figured we’d wing it. I mean the city is a big place, we’re bound to find a room somewhere, right?”

  Can’t argue with that logic I guess.

  “Alex a weekend away sounds perfect. It gets me out of here and maybe out of my own thoughts for a while. Leave the accommodation to me, there’s somewhere I have always wanted to stay, but never had the opportunity to. This would be the perfect occasion.”

  I’m thankful I’d decided to hit the hay early last night though because if I’m to spend a weekend away with the girls I’ll need all the energy I can get.

  “Okay, whatever. I’ll leave it with you and see you in an hour.”

  We say goodbye then I ring my sister and ask her if she’d be able to have the kids for a couple of days. It’s not a problem. It’s never a problem. She’s always been there for me and I appreciate her dearly for it. Ash and Aiden overhear my conversation with Josie and run to their rooms so they can pack their clothes and other prized possessions they’ll surely need. I know my kids love me, but they can’t wait for a two night sleep over at Aunty Josie’s.

  The kid’s need time off the farm too sometimes. I mean don’t get me wrong we love this lifestyle. Nothing could ever make us sell up and leave. Not even Sam’s death.

  It’s hard running a farm on your own though, but luckily we haven’t really had too. Johnno, my dearest friend Simone’s husband and Sam’s best mate, has practically been managing the place for us this last year. He’s an amazing man, but running two farms and losing his best mate has been hard on him too, but we seem to be helping each other through it all.

  Man, the girls will be here in less than an hour. That doesn’t give me much time. First I double check what the kids have packed for themselves. Ashley has forgotten to pack her underwear and Aiden has forgotten to pack any pants or shorts. They’ll get better at packing as they get older. Right now though I’m just glad they still need me.

  Time to pack for myself. I pop Sam’s card in the side pocket of my suitcase. I’m not sure why.

  I have no idea what we’re going to be doing in the city so I send a quick text to Simone in the hope of a quick response. “Thanks for the heads up MATE. Now what the hell do I need to pack?”

  Sim texts back straight away. “You’ll need comfy shoes for shopping all day, killer heels for dancing all night and your best MILF outfit.”

  Okay, now I’m worried. What the hell kind of outfit is a MILF outfit. Then I remember what MILF stands for, Mum I’d Like to Fuck. Oh my god I think the girls want to set me up and get me laid tonight. I suppose that wouldn’t be too bad, after all I am willing to have sex again, more than willing actually.

  The possibilities of the night ahead start dancing around in my mind like little erotic day dreams. My libido certainly is keen for a night of fun although it might be a struggle to keep her in her box once I get a few drinks into me. I’ll just need to try and stay a ‘happy drunk’ not a ‘I’ll take whatever I can get drunk.’ Besides I’m not desperate after all. Am I?

  I wonder if the girls have had discussions behind my back about my sex life, or lack of it. Not that that would worry me, it’s just, I’ve been scared to broach the subject with any of them in case they think I want to be in a new relationship too soon and therefore they’d think I was in a hurry to forget Sam, or my time spent grieving for Sam hasn’t been quite long enough. As my thoughts continue to fill my mind I realise that I would be happy just to be able to fuck a man and fuck him hard. To be able to have an orgasm with the help of a real penis would be something I’d just about kill for at this stage.

  I decide to pack my black halter neck top with a low back and a small cut-out in the front which shows a little cleavage and a peach coloured tight short skirt to wear out tonight. I can’t wear too high heels as my balance is seriously limited when it comes to walking in them, so if we’re going to be shopping all the next day I can’t afford for my neck to be broken in three places. If I’m drinking and wearing heels; I’m an accident waiting to happen. I pack my simple black flats which have a little sparkle about them and a nice dress jacket so I can cover up just in case I feel too old for where ever we’ll end up. Aft
er all I don’t want to look like I’m trying too hard to impress the opposite sex.

  Now I’ll book the accommodation. I can’t wait to see the look on the girls’ faces when they see where we’ll be staying.

  I text Simone back, “Who’s coming along for this trip mate?”

  She sends me the list of names. There will be seven of us including me which is great, but I notice there’s one friend who’s not on the list who I would dearly loved to have come along. So I call her to see what’s going on.

  Maddie knows from the caller ID that it’s me calling and say’s in a rather croaky voice.

  “Hey sweetie, Happy Birthday.”

  “Thanks babe. You sound terrible what’s wrong?” It’s obvious she’s got a cold, but I ask anyway.

  “I have the worst head cold flu thingy I’ve ever had in my life so I’m going to quarantine myself until I’m completely over it.”

  “Sounds fair enough, but I’ll miss you this weekend. Are the kids and Ben okay?” I find myself pacing in the lounge room by the window watching for signs of dust being kicked up into the air by an oncoming car. I’m struggling to contain my excitement although I need to be nothing but compassionate as I speak to Maddie on the phone.

  “Yeah so far so good, but I bet you ten bucks they’ll all come down with it next week. What’s the go anyway? I got a short quickly worded voicemail from Alex yesterday, but I couldn’t quite make it out. My ears are blocked and she was talking that damn fast.”

  Figures. I knew she wouldn’t have given anyone much time to get organised, but I now realise six of my friends have dropped everything for me this weekend and my heart warms knowing that.

  “We’re off to Melbourne and we need to dress up like sluts from what I’ve been told.” I try to play it down, but Maddie knows what a weekend away with the girls is like and she’d be feeling pretty down right now knowing she can’t go.