It’s cocktails. It’s strong, tangy, limy cocktails in martini glasses, and I seize one greedily. I have no idea what it is, only that I want to drink it. I close my eyes and glug it down and, oh my God, bliss. I haven’t had anything to eat all day and the alcohol hits my bloodstream like a drug.
Well, it is a drug, in fact. Ha.
I open my eyes and look around for someone to share this thought with, but there’s no one I really want to approach. Leila greeted me affectionately when I arrived but then went off to the ladies’ with two of her beautician friends. Jake is talking loudly to three guys in suits about his manufactured-diamonds deal. Apparently there’s been a holdup in Asia.
“I mean, this is international shipping for you,” he keeps saying in a show-offy way. “This is the reality of global trade, know what I mean?”
I have nothing to offer on the subject of global trade, so I take another cocktail. I could drink these all night, I think with each delicious gulp. In fact, I will drink them all night.
Our little party area is roped off, but there are plenty of other people around the place, sitting at tables and standing at the bar. They’re not in Leila’s party, just members of 6 Folds Place out for the evening. There’s a group of girls sitting at a table to my left, and I keep glancing at them, because that’s the table we had last time. That’s where I was sitting when Ryan brought me that bouquet of lilies and kissed me and I thought … I really thought …
A familiar stabbing pain hits me and I swivel away, grabbing yet another cocktail. Every icy swig numbs a bad feeling. The humiliation. The self-reproach. The worst thing is, everyone tried to tell me. Hannah, Mum, even Tim in his own way. They all sensed the truth about Ryan—although Hannah has told me several times during the past two miserable weeks that she had no idea he was that bad. Not that bad.
I don’t know if that’s supposed to cheer me up or not.
As I drain my glass, I suddenly see Nicole standing on the other side of Jake. I hadn’t noticed her before. She’s looking stunning in a short white fringed dress and tossing her carefully styled hair back as she talks to some tall guy. I can hear her saying, “Yeah, I’m actually suffering from separation anxiety, you know? I really have to self-care?”
I can’t face talking to her. I can’t face talking to Jake. What is wrong with me that I don’t want to talk to my own family? In slight despair I put down my empty glass. I pick up another full one, wondering if four cocktails is somehow against the law. And then I stiffen. Oh my God, oh my God. It can’t be.
But it is. It’s Seb. He’s sitting at a table some distance away, dressed in an elegant understated jacket. And he’s with a girl. A tall, confident-looking blond girl with a blunt chin-length haircut and a good manicure and a bright-green body-con dress. She looks like she could be a TV presenter. Is that his girlfriend? What’s her name again?
I rack my brains feverishly until it comes to me: Briony. Exactly. She sent him to the skiing workout guru. And there was some issue about a home gym. Is that her?
As Seb looks up to attract a waiter, I hastily hide behind a group of Jake’s friends. I don’t want him to see me. Why’s he here, anyway? I think, almost accusingly. He told Ryan this wasn’t his scene. He shouldn’t be such a hypocrite.
More to the point: What am I going to do now?
From my hiding place I peer at him again. He’s leaning forward now, his elbows on the table. He’s talking earnestly, as though he’s trying hard to get something across. And Briony is …
She’s snapping at him, I realize. She looks quite vicious. God, I wish I could lip-read. What’s she saying?
Now he’s replying … She’s interrupting … They’re having a row, I realize in astonishment. They’re actually having a row! Somehow I thought Seb wasn’t the type to have rows. Especially not in the middle of a club.
As I watch in fascination, Briony’s face twists. She spits out a whole series of words at Seb and pushes her chair back. She flings a pashmina around her shoulder and grabs her bag. She looks kind of magnificent, I can’t help thinking, in a scary-monster sort of way. She’s so glossy. She’s so self-possessed. She fires some final comment at Seb and strides out, and I exhale. That was intense. And I wasn’t even in it.
My brain is swirling with alcohol. The lights are starting to blur and I’m swaying a little. Maybe I drank those cocktails a bit too quickly. Even so, as Seb gets up from his chair, I feel suddenly alert. Hang on. Where’s he going? Which way is he walking?
Shit. He’s coming in this direction, toward the bar. Shit.
OK, quick, I need to face away from him. Away. This is crucial. Away. I look around for a solution and spy Nicole, who is on her own, talking on the phone.
“Drew, I have to go,” I hear her say. She rings off and takes a sip of her drink, staring ahead. Her jaw is tight and her eyes are narrowed and she looks quite stressed.
Yowser, I think hazily. Did she and Drew have a row?
“Hi, Nicole!” I say, stumbling over to her. “We never talk. Let’s talk. Is everything OK?”
At once she turns a defensive gaze on me. “Of course it is,” she says. “Why wouldn’t it be?”
Typical. I wish just once Nicole would engage and we could have an actual conversation.
I glance over my shoulder. Seb is at the bar. He’s ordering a drink. Whiskey, looks like.
“You know, Drew adores you,” I say to Nicole. “I’m sure he does. Like, this much.” I extend my arms wide, tottering on my heels. “This much.”
“You look drunk, Fixie.” She eyes me suspiciously.
“I’m not,” I assure her. “Not at all. Not drunk,” I add for emphasis.
“You are drunk!” She stares at me. “How many drinks have you had?”
“Ten,” I say defiantly, taking a swig of cocktail. Surreptitiously I turn to check out Seb again, thinking I must be safe. But to my horror he’s turned away from the bar and his eyes meet mine. His face jerks in surprise and I quickly whip my head back round, my heart thudding.
He didn’t recognize me, I tell myself. Of course he didn’t. He couldn’t have, not in that fleeting moment. Even so, I decide to move behind Nicole so that I’m concealed. Then, in sudden inspiration, I crouch down. OK, this is good. She’s completely blocking me. Also, it’s quite comfortable, down here on my heels. The room is whirling less. It’s relaxing. Parties should have more crouching.
“What the hell are you doing?” demands Nicole.
“Shhh!” I say. “Don’t move!”
I can’t see Seb. I can’t see anything but the shifting light on Nicole’s white fringed dress in front of my eyes. It’s kind of mesmerizing, especially given that my brain seems to be doing a 360 rotation every thirty seconds.
“Look, there’s sushi,” Nicole announces suddenly. “I’m getting some.” And to my dismay, she moves away, leaving me totally exposed.
“Wait!” I cry. “Nicole! Come back!”
I try to get to my feet, but I’m stuck. What is wrong with my knees? Why won’t they work? Stupid knees. Stupid cocktails.
“Fixie?” As I hear Seb’s incredulous voice, my stomach drops. I force myself to raise my head. And there he is, standing in front of me, holding his glass and looking astonished.
He doesn’t have to look so surprised. It’s a free country.
“Oh,” I say with dignity. “Yes. Hello. I was just crouching here.”
“So I see.”
There’s silence, and I attempt to rise gracefully to my feet like a swan, but it really isn’t happening.