Addicted to Mr Parks (The Parks Series #2)(3)

She shrugged, trying to ignore my glare. “It’s all gone.”

“You used thirty quid in one day?”

Her answer was snappy. “They took charges from us for debt!”

I rolled my eyes. It was typical they were in debt. They always were.

“So,” she began, siting back comfortably and lighting up a cigarette, “why’s Steph kicked you out?” Of course she didn’t know Steph had actually kicked me out, but she was trying to get information out of me and gloating whilst doing it.

My eyes shifted to the TV. “We had an argument.”

“Hmm,” she murmured with the cigarette between her dry, chapped lips. “And you had nowhere else to go? Wasn’t Cheryl good enough for you this time?”

I couldn’t look at her when she spoke, because she would chew on the inside of her mouth or continuously lick her lips, and it drove me nuts. “I think Cheryl’s helped me enough, don’t you?”

“Hmm.” She blew out smoke and took another drag. “Snobby cow.”

I pushed to my feet and headed to the kitchen. “Mum, do not slag off Cheryl in front of me.”

She called behind me as I turned. “Because Cheryl is the perfect role model in your eyes, isn’t she? Well, she didn’t do a f*cking good job with you, did she?”

“She did the best for me, which is more that I can say for you.”

She ignored that. She knew I was right, but she would never admit to it.

I opened up the cupboards to find two tins of beans and a packet of rice. The fridge was no better. They had no milk, no dairy, nothing. I slammed the fridge door, knowing I would be the mug who was about to go food shopping. “You have no food. What the hell do you live on?” I scolded her, marching my way back into the living room.

“I just told you,” she barked. “I ain’t got no money!”

Whilst I studied her small frame, I noticed red scratches on her skin. They looked like scabs she’d been picking at. I used to tell her all the time to stop picking her skin, but it was another one of her disgusting habits.

“You get benefits! What do you do with it all?”

My mum shrugged, outing her cigarette in a nearby ashtray. “Why ain’t you in work?” She scratched her arm over her coat as she spoke, so I gritted my teeth because it grated on me.

“Nothing to do with you.”

“No? Well, seeing as you think you’re so f*cking perfect, it don’t seem like perfect to me. You’re back home to your ma and old man after nine years. I smell a rat.”

My scoff was meant to offend. “I’m surprised you can smell anything after years of snorting cocaine.”

Her laughed was laced with cruel humour. “I gotta give it to you, Evey, you’re such a bitch.”

I ignored her remark because if I bit, I wouldn’t have stopped. “Don’t worry, I won’t be here for long.”

“Where you going?” my mum called as I turned on my heel and made for my room.

“Swimming. Then Tesco.” Quickly finding my swimming costume amongst a few other clothes, I shoved it into a bag along with a towel and made for the front door.


“Get me some cigarettes while you’re out, Evey.”





Chapter Three





Making my way into the WParks Hotel made me feel strange all of a sudden. I’d been swimming there for almost a year, but seeing as I knew the owner and f*cked him, it made the vibes extremely different.

I thought about calling Parks, even pulled out my smartphone to dial. Whether it was to explain my actions or ask him for an explanation of his, I wasn’t sure. Maybe both. In the heat of the moment, I looked for his number in my phone and called him. My heart fluttered as I heard the first ring, and the second, and the third, until it went straight to voice mail.

“Mr. Parks—leave a message.” His smooth, breathy American accent pored like liquid into my eardrums and remained embedded to ensure I wouldn’t forget it.

Why did I think he would answer my calls, anyway? Of course he wouldn’t. He was a self-centred arsehole. I could have kicked myself for calling him, but it was already done. At least he would see a missed call from me on his phone, so would that made him think about me at all? Think about the sex? About my punishments? About our last embrace before he left?

No. Of course he wouldn’t. He was probably already f*cking another woman and too busy to answer my calls. The heat of anger washed over me like a tsunami. I needed a drink to stop myself from thinking and pronto.

I skipped my swim and made my way to Tesco, where I purchased more vodka for myself and did some food shopping for my parents.

When I got back, I placed the milk into the fridge, put bread into the bread bin, some frozen foods in the freezer, and filled the coffee and sugar in the canisters.

“Cigarettes?” My mum was looking around for them as I emptied the plastic shopping bags.

“You think I’m going to feed your habit?” I pushed the plastic bags under the cupboard and brushed past her.

“You’re a spiteful bitch. Just like your f*cking grandmother,” she snarled. Not one ounce of her was thankful for the food I’d just given her. She was never thankful. I ignored her goads and headed to my bedroom, where I instantly noticed a few things had been moved. My bedsheets were messy, my ruby had been picked up and placed onto the bedside table, and my clothes were out of the suitcase. After examining my things, I knew immediately what was missing.