‘SERVICE, GARÇON! IF YOU PLEASE!’ I shriek in a posh voice, my arms rising to the air like a soprano’s.
A bartender looks over, laughing. ‘LUCY! Mate! Get down before you fall down!’
He saunters over and half the bar give me evils.Not my fault you lack my drunken creativity at the bar.I jump down a bit ungracefully and fall into Beth, who creases over in laughter.
‘Philip!’ I exclaim.
The bartender leans over and gives me a kiss on the cheek while home haircut next to me flares his nostrils at having to wait longer. Well, I have good reason to go first: a) it’s my eighteenth birthday b) I aced my end of year exams and c) ladies first, lads. Have some manners. Lady Lucy, I like that. I can change my name to that now I’m of age. From this day forth, I’m a noble wench.
Philip, I know because I’ve seen him in this club, Oceana, since I was fifteen and I used to sneak in here with a fake ID under the name of Lavinia Limone and a picture of a forty-year-old woman. This is where all us sisters used to come so it makes sense that before I fly off to university, we all come together in this place of dancefloor worship to say an official goodbye to our youth and welcome me into the world of being a vibrant young adult person. Philip scans down and notices I’m wearing a giant badge that says ‘Birthday Bitch’.
‘Babes, that was today?’
‘Yes? You forgot? Get out! Seriously!’ My hand is pointed to the actual exit and Emma watches it, wondering how and why I’m insulting the staff.
Instead he knocks his head back in laughter. ‘What can I get you, Luce?’
‘Sambuca shots, eight of them, and two jugs of Sex on the Beach, many straws…’
‘Could I just have a Coke?’ Emma asks, her hand in the air. ‘I told Simon I was only going out for the one drink…’
‘No, ignore her,’ I tell Philip. ‘And don’t serve her if she asks for soft drinks or I’ll tell the manager that you’re stealing from the till.’
Again, he laughs but I am deadly serious. It took me several hundred phone calls, threats and messages of emotional blackmail to get her out and she’s not allowed to spoil my evening by being sober. Emma pulls down the short skirt we made her wear after she showed up at our house in bootcut jeans and a baggy hoodie.
‘I don’t think Meg is drinking either, Luce,’ Emma informs me but I turn and point to the dancefloor. Whatever. Meg and Grace, our other sister, are throwing shapes in the best possible way. Meg is a new mum and an ex-party-girl so today is about release, fun and shots. We should have just wired her up to an alcohol drip. Grace is here to dance but also supervise and ensure Meg doesn’t hurt people with flying limbs.
‘Come on, Ems,’ Beth says, sliding a shot in her direction. ‘Drink, drink, drink, drink…’ she starts chanting. I join in, as do the men standing next to us. The peer pressure works and she downs it in one.
‘If I fail my cardiac anatomy exam then it will be your fault,’ Emma says, her face wincing as the alcohol hits the back of her throat.
‘You won’t. You’re amazing.’
Emma gazes at me. I can’t quite tell if it’s in admiration or judgement but she grabs my face and kisses me on the forehead. ‘We’re not all like you, some of us have to actually study. How the hell did you get those results?’ she asks, referring to my four As.
‘Luck, genius and good looks,’ I say, dancing on the spot. And so this night is deserved. I will have a good time tonight, a truly excellent time. I look up at the ceiling, howling in delight. Philip notices and laughs as he takes Emma’s debit card to process the drinks order. I hand over shots to the other sisters.
‘To universi-titty,’ I say, slurring. I take a shot, down it and stare into space.
‘God help them,’ Emma says.
‘You OK, Luce? You going to vom?’ Beth asks, opening her clutch.
I shake my head. ‘No, I will not give him the satisfaction.’
Both sisters look at each other, in a slightly more sober state than me to handle this situation.
‘Him? Craig?’ Emma asks.
‘No, Josh,’ I inform them. My boyfriend. The sisters suddenly realise why I may have gone both barrels at poor Craig. ‘But we’re not calling him that any more. We’re calling him Dickface. We had a huge fight about me about going away to university. He said I’m not allowed because I’ll be leaving him and he was a proper king-sized dickhead. Like, I’m surprised he could fit in the room because of the size of the monumental bellend attached to his face…’
Both of them study me as I start to dance with even more animation but also sway like I’m at sea. It’s a lot of movement.
‘He did that on your birthday?’ Beth asks, horrified.
‘But he’s not going to crap all over my evening so shush…’ I say, putting my finger to my lips. ‘The plan is to drink it all away and dance with all my sisters and my mates and celebrate madly…’
Emma and Beth watch as anger and alcohol sweep my words out of me. They know to play along, and I refuse to let Dickface Josh get in the way of this night. I did my nails. I spent money on my nails. Contrary to what Emma said, I did work my arse off at school and I deserve to be able to celebrate without his insecurities getting in the way. The song suddenly changes and Beth screams, scaring a young man and making him pour a drink down himself.
