‘We’re sorry for teasing you,’ Vivi says as a waitress appears by the table, carrying a silver bucket with a white cloth decorously draped over it.
‘Laurent-Perrier?’ the girl asks, setting the bucket down.
‘Champagne for the birthday girl,’ Vivi declares as the waitress expertly pops the cork on the bottle.
‘And nibbles fit for a queen,’ Daisy adds, ‘including these very interesting looking skewers. Chorizo, Manchego, and olives, if I’m not mistaken.’
‘They sound . . . interesting.’
‘I think it’s a modern take on cocktail sticks with cheddar, hot dog, and pickled onion,’ Vee says. ‘All we’re missing is half a Jaffa orange half covered in foil to stick them in.’
‘My grandparents still do those for family parties.’ Daisy stares intently at the stick in her hand. ‘I think I’d rather have hot dog and pickled onions.’
‘But we all enjoy champagne.’ Vee picks up her flute by the stem. ‘Here’s to me and here’s to you.’ She clinks her glass against Daisy’s then mine in turn. ‘Here’s to the men we hump and screw. Here’s to them for fucking us over, and here’s to us; may we only occasionally be sober.’
The champagne is half drunk and the nibbles half devoured before Archer crosses my mind again, and when I glance across the room, another couple is sitting at that table.
3
Heather
Gone.But not forgotten.
Gone, but it’s like I can still somehow smell that cologne of his. Citrus and spice and something I can’t quite identify.
‘You should totally bang him,’ Vee calls from across the table. The music is louder now, and her movements sloppy as she makes as though to prop her elbow on the tabletop, altogether missing the thing.
How did we get onto this topic again?
‘Youbang him. You’re more the dick and dash kind.’
‘If I had a chain of hotels, that’s what I’d call ’em, so I’ll take that as a compliment.’ After a quick rub of her elbow, she raises her champagne glass in a toast. ‘Here’s to men blowing their load before hitting the road.’
‘Ew.’ I find myself giggling, my head a little swimmy, probably as a result of the bubbles guzzled and the drinks mixed.
‘Ew? That’s so notewworthy.’
‘It is to me.’ It’s also unlikely as I can’t get a man to stay long enough to, well,that.
‘Nope.’ She pops thepwith relish. ‘Ewwould be...’ Her expression scrunches before lighting with a thought. ‘I have it; painting her face before leaving the place.’ She throws her arms wide along with her words.
‘Oh, God, Vee, you are officially wasted. Time to round up the troops, I think.’ I look around only now just noticing that Daisy isn’t here. ‘Where did Dais go?’
‘I am not drunk. I haven’t officially told you I loved you yet.’
‘So tell me. Then we’ll grab a cab.’
‘No, no, no, my gorgeous friend-y friend. You don’t understand. I haven’t been through all the stages of inebriated. First there’s tipsy,’ she says, flicking the index finger of her right hand against the little finger of her left. ‘Then there’s giggly. Then there’s talking total shit, then telling your mates that you love them.’
‘So you’re almost drunk.’ I think I feel a little squiffy myself.
She nods heavily. ‘At the talking shit stage.’
‘We’ve all got work tomorrow, so I think this might be also be the quitting stage. Stay here. I’ll goes see where Daisy has gone.’
As I push up from my chair, I wonder where the wobbly legs stage is on Vee’s sliding scale. I weave my way through the crowd, questioning when the space between our table and the bar became a dance floor because people are dancing when before they were standing around drinking.
‘Thursday is the new Friday,’ I grumble to myself, skirting the edge of the throng, but I can’t see Daisy, and the bar seems so much farther away than it was before. I push into the crowd, calling her name, and my heart is suddenly in my throat as people begin to push and shove, their movements pulling me like a leaf down a stream. My chest is tight, and I don’t like the sudden dark. I begin to use my hands and my arms, as though I’m swimming in a sea of people, sweat breaking out on my forehead and my breath tight.
