‘It’s her,’ he whispers. ‘Can she see me?’
‘Whoare you talking about?’ I look around the room for clues. Is it one of his former model conquests, hell-bent on revenge? I can’t see any angry looking women.
Dave is trying to fold himself further behind the carving which, on closer inspection, is actually a headless female torso. Dave is approx. 10,000 feet tall and, try as he might, he cannot tuck both his head and his body behind the sculpture. I step back and splutter. His head is now sitting atop a bronze pair of boobs.
‘Your crazy boss,’ he mouths as Violet approaches.
‘Jasmine, I’m so glad I’ve found you. I’m over this exhibition, art is so boring and there’s not one potential boy here for me to hook up with. Pringle’s off to another party so I’m going to go with.’
‘Pringle?’
‘Pringle.’ Violet repeats, like it’s totally natural to have a friend who shares a name with a savoury snack.
‘Right, Pringle,’ I try it out. Nope. ‘Okay, well I’m going to stay here if that’s alright?’
‘What, by yourself?’
My eyes involuntarily flicker in Dave’s direction and that’s when Violet spots him. Crap. He’s going to murder me.
‘Nice tits,’ Violet smirks.
Dave straightens up and tries very hard to look like he hasn’t just been hiding behind a bronze carving of some magnificent breasts.
He tips his forehead up and says, ‘What’s up?’
Violet snorts. ‘“What’s up?” What is this, the nineties? And might I ask why you were hiding behind a pair of boobs?’
‘Iwasn’t hiding,’ Dave says petulantly, his cheeks pink. I inch back to watch the conversation. Dave hasn’t seen Violet since she beat him around the head with an inflatable unicorn lilo. Violet clearly holds no regrets over the unsavoury scenes and Dave seems ruffled.
My new gap yah pal saunters past and both Dave and Violet practically pounce on him for a champagne refill. He tops my glass up too and I take a sip.
‘Are you well?’ Dave asks, recovering himself.
‘Quite well. I was just leaving.’
‘Off to attack some other unsuspecting male?’
‘I didn’t attack you, I was simply venting my frustration. It’s not my fault you take awful photographs.’
I grimace.
Dave tuts. ‘There are literally thousands of people who would beg to differ with you. Like the A-lister I shot yesterday or the rapper who insists on using me for all of his album covers.’
Violet rolls her eyes. ‘It’s uncouth to brag.’
‘It’s petulant to criticise mysubstantialtalent just because I couldn’t avoid your cellulite.’
Oh damn.
I cannot believe Dave just mentioned the c word. An enraged Violet has bypassed the conversation stage and is now scouting about for a new weapon with which to attack her nemesis. I surreptitiously step in front of the bronze knockers because they’re awesome and she could do some real damage with those guys. The air is thick with bad vibes.
‘You said you were leaving,’ says Dave, casting his hand wide as if to hurry her out.
‘Offto the opening of a new hotel.’
‘Oh hell,’ sighs Dave. ‘Number Fifty-Four?’
‘You’re going too? In those dreadful denim trousers?’ Violet is horrified.
