Stevie does have a point. I think back to the North Americans I met in London down the years, who would shake their heads mournfully as you ordered a third pint on a weeknight, silently willing you to go and seek help for your ‘problem’.
‘Yeah, and you should see some of the people I party with,’ I say. ‘One friend of mine has fourteen rum and Cokes, then runs around on the spot for thirty minutes before she chunders up the lot. She’s managed to get puke on the ceiling. I mean, you don’t do anything like that, do you?’
‘I do really like him,’ Naomi says to herself. ‘He probably only wants what is best for me.’
‘Well, it strikes me as a touch manipulative,’ I tell her. Naomi looks back out of the window, retreating into her thoughts. I can feel Stevie somehow gaining ground again, his chance to become her top dog not quite dead in the water yet.
‘Men giving us ultimatums like that is never a good thing, whatever way you want to look at it,’ is my final say on the matter. ‘It feels like coercive control.’ I know these two words have weight, but I send them her way anyway.
Naomi’s eyes widen.
As we arrive at the club, the room is overwhelmingly packed, and my near-constant dizziness about meeting Ted properly isn’t helping. There’s a definite sense that this is the place where everyone else in the city wishes they could be. The men stand with their feet planted apart like sports players, holding court and clearly saying things that they believe to be utterly profound or hilarious for everyone else to hear. The women are twig-like and appear to have received instructions from an unknown, outside entity to look as bored as they can. Even their pronounced sternums seem hostile and world-weary. I wish I could say that the energy is fun and exciting, but self-congratulation drips from the wall like condensation.
Naomi has dressed up, which means wearing a black dress and a necklace that sits prominently on her chest. A butterfly hair brooch is her big concession to glamour. She leads me through the pack until she sees Alice, who is wearing a red bandage dress that only seems to accentuate every perfect angle of her form. It makes me look as if I’ve found my polka-dot shift dress in a nearby skip. She can be seen from four miles away, and looking directly at her really is like looking into the sun. We give each other pally hugs as I try not to look too disappointed that she is alone. If she has noticed my hair colour change since the last time we met, she isn’t letting on. She seems to know practically everyone in this room.
‘You guys, this is HECTIC,’ she breathes, eyes subtly scanning the room for others to talk to. A waiter passes by with a tray of champagne: impressively, Naomi appears to have grabbed three glasses in one fluid motion. She hands one to me and I’m pleasantly relieved when it doesn’t shatter in my fist.
‘Where’s T-Bob?’ Naomi asks. Alice shrugs.
‘Who’s T-Bob?’ I ask.
‘Ted Robert. We use his middle name,’ Naomi clarifies, and someone familiar catches her eye. The next thing I know, Ted is making his way over to us ever so slowly, flanked by Henry his agent, and a woman that I take to be Henry’s plus-one. Henry has big 15-per-cent energy; he’s like a Rottweiler in cufflinks. I watch Ted from the corner of my eye as he approaches, too terrified to look at him directly.
Ted is shorter and somehow slighter in real life, certainly shorter than Alice and not the burly mountain bear of a man that he was in my mind’s eye. He no longer has his love handles, and his torso seems more defined. The overall effect is that he somehow looks a bit meaner. Thoughts scramble around, looking for definition and clarity. I think I know him, but I don’t, I have to remind myself.
Soon another guy, a random person, is walking alongside them, aware of others’ eyes on them. He is babbling in such an animated way that he clearly doesn’t want this interaction with Ted to end.
Ted and Henry are right next to us. We are breathing the same air. We are existing under the same molecules. I concentrate on the nothings that are coming out of Naomi’s mouth. I can feel Alice waiting for a break in the conversation so she can introduce me.
Ted’s eyes land on me for a single second before Henry smoothly guides Ted away from us into a corner. I can only look on as Ted changes course, away from us. Alice and Naomi don’t seem to mind. I, meanwhile, want to bite down on a strap and screech. If I could throttle myself effectively, I would.
‘I’m starving,’ Naomi wails. ‘Seriously, why is there neverany food at these things? What do you people live on, fresh air?’
Alice, to her credit, laughs this off.
‘Call of nature,’ I try to sing-song, but even I note the shrillness in my voice.
I quietly make my way to the bathroom, where I stand with my head between my legs and push the walls of the cubicle until my wrists ache. I then decide to message Violet. ‘I have met Ted, finally! We’re at some industry party. I’m pretty sure I’ll get to meet him again in the next few days. Alice is actually really cool. I think you would like her.’
By the time I re-emerge about thirty minutes later, Naomi is nowhere to be seen. ‘She told me to let you know she’s gotten a cab back to the house, and she won’t wait up,’ Alice tells me. ‘She’s probably had enough of the bullshit, and I don’t blame her.’
No harm, I think to myself. ‘Right, what are we at?’ I say, clapping my hands together, all business now. ‘And what are we at later?’ Me walking into a club with Ted. May the heavens burst into song right here.
‘Well, I don’t know,’ Alice says, scanning the room. ‘I think I’ve been abandoned too.’
A cry nearly escapes me. ‘It’s only nine p.m. for fuck’s sake!’ I shout.
‘Don’t know about you but I could use some real food,’ Alice says. I don’t tell her that I’d eat microwaved camel shit if it means getting to talk to her and stay a little while longer in this life. I shrug amiably in assent, the effort of playing it cool starting to create a callus on my soul, as I follow her out of the door.
One thing you need to know about walking next to Alice Andre in public: you’re going to feel like you’ve walked into a hall of mirrors and found the ‘compressing’ glass. I lookpositively squashed down next to her. As Alice takes casually mammoth vaults down the street, I struggle to keep up, the scurrying little sidekick in a kids’ cartoon. Guys aren’t quite walking themselves into the lampposts and getting concussion when they see her, but the effect is not far off. They very much notice her, letting their eyes rest gladly on her. Women in groups approach us and glare at her, slightly thin-lipped while wrapping their coats and cardigans tighter around themselves. Whether Alice sees all this, or ever did, it’s impossible to tell.
‘To be honest, I was kinda glad to get out of that room,’ Alice tells the top of my head.
‘Jesus yeah,’ I agree. ‘The whole vibe was very I’m-the-dude.’
‘Right?’ she says, laughing.
‘Yes!’ I say, warming up. ‘If half of them were ice-creams, they’d feckin’ lick themselves.’
