Read Lizzy Gardner #2_Dead Weight for Free Online Page A

pants pocket, and then pulled out a stretchy mini-skirt and a pair of gaudy three-inch heels.
    Eleven dollars for the entire out it, including the wig she was wearing. She’d been royally ripped off.
    Dressed appropriately now, she carefully tucked the pills into her bra, inhaled the night air, and looked up at the moon through thick false eyelashes. There was something about the moon that appealed to her like nothing else did. .something reassuring. Maybe she liked knowing she could look upward on any given night and the moon would almost always be there, no matter where she was. Maybe it was the face on the moon, always smiling down at her, never annoyed or upset: familiar and nonjudgmental.
    She forced herself to look back at the cheap brass colored numbers: 103B.
    Peter lived here. Tonight was just the beginning.
    Although she’d been keeping tabs on Peter for a while now, she really had no idea if Peter had a mother, sister, brother, or aunt. She never actually came to his door before. Hell, maybe he was married with kids. If he had kids, she might have to igure out a different way to dish out his punishment.
    Hayley shrugged. Whatever. She’d just have to wing it. She knocked on the door and waited.
    She didn’t have to wait long.
    Peter looked the same as always: like shit on a stick. His hair was poking out every which way as if he’d just rubbed a balloon on his head and the electrons and protons were going crazy.
    “Christina,” he said, his voice slurred, his breath reeking of alcohol.
    “Is that you?”
    “Yeah.” She had no idea who Christina was, but that name was as good as any.
    He stuck his head out the door to see if anyone was with her.
    “Where’s your ol’ man?”
    “Don’t know.”
    “Who brought you?”
    “I walked.” At least that much was the truth.
    His hand rose higher on the door frame as if he was trying to look cool or something, an impossible feat on his best day. He had on a dirty white T-shirt and a pair of pants at least a size too big.
    Apparently, he slept in his clothes. “You’re lookin’ good,” he told her.
    “You think so?”
    “I always knew you liked me.”
    “Are you going to let me in, Peter, or should I go back to the ol’ man and tell him you wouldn’t let me inside?”
    A crooked smile appeared. He moved aside to give her enough room to get by. He smelled like Scotch, beer, and road kill all mixed together. Funny how certain smells brought back memories, bad and good. Too bad the recollections running through her mind at the moment were all repulsive.
    She stepped inside and held her breath to stop from gagging. The greenish brown shag carpet looked moldy. A stale plastic milk carton sat on the loor next to the couch. Empty beer bottles decorated the room. Her mother’s house looked like the Ritz compared to this apartment.
    “Nice place,” she said.
    “Can I get you a shot of whiskey?”
    Before she could answer he curled a calloused hand around the nape of her neck and pulled her lips against his. She hadn’t thought anything he could do would surprise her. She was wrong.
    Every part of her illed with rage, popping and sizzling like hot oil in her veins. It took restraint she didn’t know she had not to bite off his fucking tongue. She used both hands lat against his bony chest to push him away. “Only if you do a shot with me,” she managed.
    He didn’t have to go far, which was unfortunate. A bottle of whiskey sat on a coffee table in front of the couch. He did have to get a couple of glasses though.
    She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.
    The second he disappeared in the kitchen, she retrieved the pills from her bra and slipped them into the quarter full bottle of whiskey.
    She put her thumb into the opening and shook it up. When lover boy walked back into the room, she pretended she’d just taken a sip and even wiped her lips with the back of her hand. Then she set the bottle back on the table with a loud thump.
    He looked from