Sue Margolis - Spin Cycle

TABLE OF CONTENTS

For my mum.
Thank you for having me.

Praise for
Sue Margoliss novels

Apocalipstick

Sexy British romp... Margoliss characters have a candor and self-deprecation that lead to furiously funny moments.... A riotous, ribald escapade sure to leave readers chuckling to the very end of this saucy adventure.

USA Today

[An] irreverent, sharp-witted look at love and dating.

Houston Chronicle

Quick in pace and often very funny.

Kirkus Reviews

Margolis combines light-hearted suspense with sharp English wit... entertaining read.

Booklist

A joyously funny British comedy... a well-written read that has its share of poignant moments... There are always great characters in Ms. Margoliss novels. With plenty of romance and passion, Apocalipstick is just the ticket for those of us who like the rambunctious, witty humor this comedy provides.

Romance Reviews Today

Rather funny... compelling... brilliant send-ups of high fashion.

East Bay Express

Spin Cycle

This delightful novel is filled with more than a few big laughs.

Booklist

A funny, sexy British romp... Margolis is able to keep the witty one-liners spraying like bullets. Light, fun...

Library Journal

Warm-hearted relationship farce... a nourishing delight.

Publishers Weekly

Margolis does a good job of keeping several balls in the air at once.

The Pilot (Southern Pines, N.C.)

A nice, refreshingly funny read.

America Onlines Romance Fiction Forum

Satisfying... a wonderful diversion on an airplane, poolside, or beach.

Baton Rouge Magazine

Neurotica

Screamingly funny sex comedy... the perfect novel to take on holiday.

USA Today

Cheeky comic novela kind of Bridget Joness Diary for the matrimonial set... Wickedly funny.

People (Beach Book of the Week)

A fast and furiously funny read... Scenes that literally will make your chin drop with shock before you erupt with laughter.

The Plain Dealer (Cleveland)

Taking up where Bridget Joness Diary took off, this saucy British adventure redefines the lusty womans search for erotic satisfaction.... Witty and sure... A taut and rambunctious tale exploring the perils and raptures of the pursuit of passion.

Publishers Weekly

Splashy romp... giggles guaranteed.

Daily News (New York)

A good book to take to the beach, Neurotica is fast paced and at times hilarious.

Bostons Weekly Digest Magazine

This raunchy and racy British novel is great fun, and will delight fans of the television show Absolutely Fabulous.

Booklist

A lusty laugh-out-loud tale about adultery.

Womans Own

CHAPTER 1

Rachel Katz lifted the mike off its stand and jerked the lead away from her feet.

So yeah, right, anyway, she began, moving the mike stand to one side, what do you think about this new morning-after pill for men?

Shed hoped for a few expectant chuckles at her opening line, but wasnt too alarmed when none came.

The male morning-after pill, yeah. The moment the paternity suits filed, it changes their blood group.

Silence. OK, she thought. It happens.

You know, she continued, her trademark deadpan voice not faltering, Im thirty-four years old and still I dont get it. Men. And the emotions thing.

I mean why are they so afraid of feelings, so alienated by the remotest display of sensitivity? Lets face itthe only time youll catch a bloke watching Oprah is when its on nymphomaniacs and where they hang out.

She paused. Waited for her laugh. Again, nothing. She was beginning to feel uneasy, and more than a little perplexed. Shed tried out the Oprah gag on a dozen audiences in the last few weeks and people always hooted.

The family of highly strung ferrets that usually inhabited Rachels stomach when she was performing went into a psychotic frenzy of somersaults and back flips.

Right, she said breezily, doing her best to ignore the ferrets. Just me on that one then.

She smiled at the audience, hoping she might receive a few titters of encouragement in return. But none were forthcoming.

You see, she continued, starting to feel mildly nauseous now, its not only the emotional thing fellas cant do. Thats just the tip of the iceberg. I mean practically all my boyfriends have missed the things that are really important to memy birthday, the anniversary of when we met... my clitoris.

She paused once more. Still not a hint of a hoot. This could not be happening.

She peered at the audience through the smoke and semidarkness. Sitting round the Anarchist Bathmats pub tables was the usual mix of pierced and goateed student types, a few yuppies and a smattering of forty-somethings desperate to show the world their humor was still cutting edge while forgetting their sartorial style was more cutting hedge.

Right, er, OK, Rachel battled on, I was lying in bed next to my boyfriend the other night after wed made love and I found myself thinking that God just has to be a man. I mean if God were a woman, shed have made sperm taste of chocolate.

Cold silence.

God, I wish you lot had been here yesterday, Rachel said, swallowing hard. I was in Birmingham.

Suddenly a woman in the front row began sniffing loudly. Others followed. Then came the sound of somebody crying. By now Rachels nausea, panic and overwhelming confusion were turning to astonishment. She couldnt understand it. Usually when people didnt like her material, they heckled, went off to the bar or simply ignored her. They didnt collapse into depression. Her bewilderment was such that she realized shed forgotten the next part of her routine. She had to come up with an ad lib, fast.

S funny, she chuckled nervously, right now, Im having amnesia and dj vu at the same time. I think Ive forgotten this before.

Rachel couldnt believe what she was hearing. The whole place was now filled with the sound of people weeping. For the first time in her career and, Rachel suspected, in the history of stand-up comedy, an entire audience had been reduced to tears.

Through the hazy half-light she could see women hunched over tables racked with noisy sobs. Blokes were biting their bottom lips and gently consoling their girlfriends. A few fellas were even hugging each other. Through her peripheral vision, Rachel caught sight of Lenny, the emcee, who was standing to one side of the stage. He was making violent cutthroat gestures to her. She realized she had no alternative but to come offstage.

Thank you, she shouted above the din of wailing, sniffing and nose blowing, Im Rachel Katz and youve been... an audience. Good night.

Rachel bounded over to Lenny. He was a short, thirty-something Sheffield lad with mad-scientist ginger hair and pink tartan flares. Theyd worked together dozens of times and he and Rachel were good mates.

Blimey, she gasped. Talk about going down like Sylvester Stallones dick at a transvestite convention. Do you mind telling me what was going on? I mean, Ive died before, but Ive never been mourned.

Its OK, Rachel. Calm down, Lenny said, smiling and gently rubbing the top of her arm. It wasnt your fault. You see, the audience couldnt help it.