Suicide Blonde - Chapter 7 - Suicide Blonde

ACTRESS SWAPS THEATRE FOR THONG

Blurred. Poppy couldn't remembering collapsing, but since Mitchell had picked up her off the floor, she guessed she must have fallen. She had made her way back to his house somehow; and found herself (again) in his bed when she woke. A copy of the newspaper lay next to her. And she inspected her second front page headline.

"GET YOUR HANDS OFF ME!" she had screamed at him. That much, she remembered. As she glanced at the newspaper headline again, her mobile phone rang.

"Yes?" she said sharply.

"Hello Poppet, bit of bad news I'm afraid," Mitchell.

"What do you want?"

"I just received a telephone call from the theatre, the red the newspaper and well, the outcome isn't all that positive."

The last straw. "Are you telling me I've lost my career because of a dirty trick you pulled on me- you, you-"

"Careful now Poppet, you wouldn't want to go upsetting Mitchell now would you?" the patronising tone of his voice made Poppy feel only angrier.

"Well, the manager said that he thought it best if you took a break from the stage for a while."

"No, no. I can't. I have to find work or I won't..." but Poppy couldn't finish, she was hyperventilating.

"Calm down now Poppet. On the bright side, William was very impressed with your little performance," Mitchell chortled.

If Mitchell had been there in person, Poppy was certain she would have struck him, as it was, her anger was taken out on the glass she had been holding in her hand at the time, which subsequently smashed underneath her grasp.

"What was that?" Mitchell enquired after the noise.

"Never mind," Poppy replied, gravely.

"I'm rather sorry it had to end up like this you know. It all came down to money in the end. Rather provincial of me I must admit, but you know me, I won't lie. Arabella just seemed to be rather, forthcoming in getting you out of the picture and- money talks."

As more words emerged from Mitchell's mouth, the closer Poppy got to throwing the mobile phone across the room. Resisting the urge, she downed the last of the wine she had stolen from Mitchell's supply and began trying to speak:

"There is no hope for William and I now. Thank you so much for your help. It's wonderful that you sold out your best friend for money. You must be so proud," her voice croaked as she spoke.

There was an awkward pause as Mitchell took a drag on his cigarette and Poppy listened to his breathing. "There are more people in the world than William Edmon you know Poppet. Sometimes, you just have to accept that people don't love you; and find the ones that make life-"

Whatever Mitchell had left to say; Poppy would never know. Finally, the urge to throw the phone had surpassed her willpower and it catapulted across the room, rebounding against the opposite wall and smashed into several separate pieces on the floor.

"That was liberating," Poppy cackled to herself, hysterically and she hauled herself out of the bed.

She wobbled slightly as she walked, from the wine.

"Mr Edmon... do you take Miss Arabella Husband-Stealing letch to be your wife?!" she yelled at Tottering out of the bedroom and across the landing to the stairs, she teetered at the top flight. She took the steps three at a time as she continued her dramatic enactment:

"And the best man, Mitchell the Back Stabber, do you have the rings?" Poppy fell down the final three stairs and hit her head against the railing at the bottom. Despite her injuries, she had to make her way to the front door. She had to.

She fumbled with the lock, but managed to wrench the door open and stepped out into the cold, rain of the afternoon. Running round the back of the house she made a beeline for her car. Once inside, she jammed the keys into the ignition (after the third attempt) and started driving.

Everything around her seemed muzzy, it was moving faster than she was. For a moment, she forgot where she was driving too. Will. She didn't know what day it was, whether he would be at the office, whether he would be at home: but she thought she would try the office first.

*

"Why did you do it Poppy?" Will sat next to her in the car. Poppy wasn't quite sure how she had managed to persuade him to leave the office and join her. Although he didn't seem as disgusted with her as he had done the night of... well, that night; his behaviour towards her had changed. He was cold. Distant.

Poppy had this revelation about ten minutes into the discussion and she started driving. As of then, she had been able to keep her mild-drunkenness concealed from Will. She guessed he thought she was just subdued. She drove.

Ten, twenty, thirty, forty...

Fifty.

Sixty.

Seventy.

"Slow down Poppy!" Will was yelling.

"What? Did you say something?!"

Poppy wasn't looking at the road, she was staring at Will. There were cars sailing past, but that didn't matter.

"Why are you doing this?" Will screamed. He tried to open the car door, and found it was locked. He tried to force it anyway.

"You can't get out." Poppy assured him. She caught the look of despair and panic on his face as she glanced back at the road. Letting go of the steering wheel, she laughed slightly as he tried to grab hold of it. The sound of rubber grinding on concrete was satisfying. It was close.

"Why did you cheat on me William?" She called over the road noise. The road was busier, they were approaching traffic lights, only just stopping on time, due to Will's emergency brake. Will wasn't talking.

"Oh, oh, ok. Fine. Ignore me. IGNORE ME! Why... why didn't you just? For fuck's sake William look at me! Look at me why don't you? Or just... give me the-"

Poppy wrenched the wheel out of Will's grasp and pulled it. Pressing her foot on the accelerator, she felt everything reach her at once.

"WELL IF YOU DON'T HAVE A REASON, I CAN GIVE YOU ONE!" Poppy screeched. Sixty.

"Poppy, please slow down." Seventy.

"Give me a reason, or," she revved the engine.

"I was drunk, I didn't know..."

"Shut up." Poppy growled. Eighty.

The road had narrowed, the others disappearing as they approached the bend.

"Listen I di-"

"SHUT. UP."

Poppy managed to silence him that time. He looked scared. His features frozen, eyes wide, wondering.. Poppy was wondering too. What was she going to do? Was she really going to do what shed planned to? Was it the answer? She didn't know. But Will wasn't giving her one either. Then she thought of Arabella. She thought of Mitchell. Bitch. Betrayal. Money.

"It's just good business." His voice was in her head in that moment.

"Seems we have made our choices." Arabella had said those words and it was true.

"Well here's the answer. Are you finally paying attention William?" Ninety.

"Yes. Poppy, please-"

Poppy cut him short. "You chose to stand me up at that dinner. You chose to meet your prostitute instead. You chose to give her my favourite dress. You chose HER OVER ME! She said you two were going to be together... that we couldn't be together whilst she was around. So-" A hundred.

"So I'm removing the problem. We can't be together now. Here. In life. With her around."

"In life?!" Will's voice trembled.

Ninety.

She would make one final headline before...

ACTRESS AND EX LOVER DIE IN FATAL CRASH

The bend had passed. Arabella was left behind there. It was over. She was ready. They were ready. A hundred.

"This is the only way to be together."

THE END