Leftovers Read Online Free Page A

don’t you run off and join the circus?’
    ‘What?’
    ‘Go join the circus, Jason. Date a clown. They wear loads of red lipstick – it’s all over their face. By your logic that makes them at least twice as filthy as that poor waitress. Yeah, Jase, go and date a nice dirty clown with a squeezy plastic flower and those funny stripy trousers.’
    There is an embarrassed silence, filled eventually by Rebecca. ‘Sorry guys, maybe those Jäger Bombs weren’t such a good idea …’ she says. Jason is staring at me like I’ve said something … I don’t know, what
is
that word now … weird?
    ‘You know what, Jase?’ I say. ‘Maybe you don’t have to wait until the circus comes to town. You might get lucky. Maybe there are some clowns hanging out down the David Lloyd, running on the treadmill with their long slutty clown shoes.’
    I see Rebecca shaking her head more violently in my direction.
    ‘Gosh, clown shoes must make running a
real
challenge. Bet they can’t do “fourteen kilometres an hour” like you can … Oh! And step class must be a nightmare! So embarrassing, always tripping over their own feet. Poor, sexy, slightly scary clut-slowns.’
    ‘Clut-slowns?’ he says.
    ‘Clut-slowns. Clut-slowns, slut-clowns, you know what I mean!’
    ‘Are you a lezza or what?’ he says.
    ‘What?!’ I haven’t been accused of being a lesbian since I refused to snog Elliot Johnson at the school Christ-mas disco when I was fourteen. ‘Jason … You know Maggie?’
    ‘Maggie who?’
    ‘
Hello?
Your ex-girlfriend Maggie? Wow, fickle! Two years together and you can’t even remember her name!’
    ‘That’s because her name’s Megan.’
    ‘Oh. Was it? I thought you said Maggie? No?’
    He shakes his head.
    ‘Are you sure?’
    ‘Pretty sure …’
    ‘Anyway, “the
greatest
arse in London”
–
that
one – well, Jason, I’ve got news for you, my friend:
you
are the greatest arse in London!’
    ‘Suze …’ says Rebecca, putting her hand on my arm. ‘Let’s get you some food …’
    ‘I think you should take your mental rug-munching friend home – get her back on her meds,’ says Jason, heading to the bar in pursuit of the waitress.
    ‘Yeah, send my love to …’ I rack my brain for the name of a famous clown … er … how come I don’t know
any
famous clown names? Now
that
really is embarrassing. ‘Send my love to … to Coco!’ I shout after him. Yeah. Coco. That’ll do. He was a boy clown. I think.
    Danny whispers something to Rebecca and follows his mate to the bar. Rebecca just stares at me.
    ‘What?’ I say, twiddling my umbrella and checking whether the up-down mechanism on it works. Cool, it does! I love the fact that these umbrellas could actually function as mini parasols, for ladybirds or something …
    ‘Bloody hell, Suze,’ she says. ‘You need to stop doing that.’
    ‘Doing what?’
    ‘Being insane and aggressive when hot men are chatting us up.’
    ‘He wasn’t that hot. Anyway you fancy the barman more than you fancied him.’
    ‘Not the point.’
    ‘Come off it, he was booooring. And his nob-head friend was rude about Adele. I’m standing up for womankind. And he made that moronic comment about lipstick and I was merely trying to explain to him that … you know … you shouldn’t objectify women, and lipstick doesn’t make a girl sexy …’
    ‘Shall I tell you what else doesn’t make a girl sexy, Suze?’
    ‘What?’
    ‘Verbally attacking random men.’
    ‘Random dipshits more like …’
    ‘Whatever. Either way, you come across as angry.’
    ‘Becka, I’m only angry when I’m provoked.’
    ‘Look, I know you’ve had a drink …’
    ‘That’s your fault! You’re a bad friend! You made me have
five
drinks on a Tuesday night and you know I don’t get along with Jägermeister at the best of times, hideous Alpine medicine …’
    ‘Hang on a minute …’ she says.
    ‘What?’
    ‘The lipstick thing …’
    ‘No, it’s not what you’re