“I can’t Ryan, I can’t.” I bat his hand away, turn on my heel, and flee down Frith Street.
“Oh my God!” Carla says.
Alexander’s mum’s face is a mix of disbelief and disgust as the woman on the stage shoots a ping pong ball out of her vagina and into the crowd.
The Box is crammed to the rafters. Our VIP booth is halfway up on the left, and is packed with Alexander’s parents, Alexander, his makeup artist Erica, Rob, and two people I didn’t immediately know, but then instantly recognized when she introduced herself as Abbie McCarthy the radio presenter. She’s there along with her partner, Adam, who’s been filling me in on the latest Formula One standings.
“You ain’t seen nothing yet,” Abbie says, leaning over to Carla and handing Alex an apple juice before pouring herself another drink.
“What do you mean?” Carla asks, shaking her head.
“It’s all shits and giggles, love. Until someone giggles and shits.”
And as if on cue, the woman turns around, lifts up her skirt, and proceeds to defecate right on the stage.
Alexander spits out his drink, spattering it across the women at the table in front of him.
The women turn round in disgust until they see Alexander hold his hands up to apologize, and they start giggling. They reach into their ice bucket and start throwing chunks at him.
“What the actual fuck!” He grabs my thigh and rolls his head back in a fit of laughter.
“I knew you’d love this place,” Abbie says, lifting her drink in the air and taking a sip.
“It’s fucking crazy.” He shakes his head at the woman on stage as she lifts herself back upright.
“Don’t go getting any funny ideas,” Carla says, waving her finger at her husband.
“Not your cuppa tequila?” Abbie says, smirking, as Carla makes a puke face.
I can’t even begin to imagine bringing my parents to the Box, yet Alexander doesn’t seem to mind.
“I think we better call it a night,” Carla says. She brushes down her shorts and stands up, motioning for Bruce to do the same.
Erica coughs to get Alexander’s attention, and looks down at my leg. His hand is still resting there and he quickly removes it.
“Dialect coach…” Erica leans over to whisper in my ear.
My back stiffens against the red leather.
Maybe she’s seen this before. Maybe she knows.
I thought only his parents, Rob, Paul, Connie, and Lucy knew?
“I think your makeup artist knows,” I say, whispering in Alexander’s ear.
“She’s one of us. It’s okay.” He takes another sip of his drink.
“A man?” I turn my head back to Erica. Could have fooled me.
“No silly. Gay.” He shakes his head as he laughs and puts his drink down.
By my count, that now makes nine people who know about us. His parents, manager, publicist, assistant, Rob, Kelly, Daniel, and now Erica.
“You coming?” Carla asks, looking down at Alexander and me.
I nod, and Alexander and Erica agree too. I’m so beat that I could do with heading back to the hotel. But before I stand up, Erica pulls at my arm.
“We should probably hang back five minutes, then grab a taxi.”
