vixen mode and adopting the relaxed pose of a veteran groupie, I hung my bare legs on display and started to twiddle a loose curl around my finger.
Michael returned to the living room, with an open bottle of JD, a bottle of Coca-Cola and three tumblers.
‘Close your eyes,’ he demanded, his piercing brown eyes looking serious. Worried by his unpredictability I said, ‘What?’ But he just smiled. ‘Close your eyes for me, heart-breaker.’
I did as he said. I could hear him place the glasses and bottles on the table, and then immediately a powerful scent wafted up my nose, giving me a fright. I jolted my eyes open, only to see Michael waving a sprig of rosemary in front of me.
‘I picked it for you from the garden. There were no flowers to be seen, but this does smell beautiful … Just like youuu,’ he cooed.
It wasn’t quite Interflora calling, but I did see the romance in his gesture. He was still sweet, even though he was ridiculously high as a kite.
And just as we were starting to enjoy a moment locking lips, Robert De Niro came stomping back in, proclaiming, ‘Daz and Charlie are on their way.’ Not knowing if they were terms for more drugs or actual people, I sat back and sipped quietly on the Jack and Coke which Michael handed me.
‘WHOO-HAA!’ he whooped, like Al Pacino in
Scent of a Woman
. ‘I feel a big one going down!’
Staring out the window, I noticed that it had started to sheet rain – tears from heaven, indeed. How the hell was I going to get myself out of this mess?
‘
I’M IN SUM BAR, OR CLUB TYPE PLACE IN CHEL-SEE
,’ I shouted down the phone to Maddie. ‘
AN I’M WASTED!
’ After about ten hours’ drinking, I suddenly felt the need to call home again.
And while I couldn’t really make out what she was saying, apart from, ‘… coming home? … OK? I’ll kill ’im!’ it was a comfort in itself to know she was at the other end of the phone – even if I couldn’t hear her over the pounding bass of the dance music.
Slumped on a toilet, I sat and stared at myself in the full-length mirror on the back of the door. God, I was a state. I could easily be that bird from the Prodigy’s ‘Smack My Bitch Up’ video.
Looking at my screen to see if I was still connected, I shouted down the phone, ‘I MISS YOU … I’M FF-FINE … TALK TO YA TOMORROW, HON!’ And then threw the phone back in my Prada bag. Thinking, duty done, I’d have put her mind at ease …
As I thought about rising to my feet, I wondered had I fallen asleep in the toilet? I was convinced I had lost time somewhere. I had a track record of taking power naps.
After gathering the energy to stand up I misplaced my footing and fell forwards against the door with a bang.
Very ladylike I thought, bursting into fits of laughter.
Pulling up my cerise Kylie pants, I safely positioned my bag on my shoulder and, taking a deep breath, I unlocked the door and tried not to fall down. Greeted with a disapproving frown by the toilet attendant who sat surrounded by the contents of a pharmacy, and several women availing themselves of her perfumes, deodorants and lollypops, I pulled the face of a six-year-old girl and stuck my tongue out at her the second she turned her back.
I was sorry I hadn’t applied some make-up in the cubicle, for the main area around the sinks was dimly lit and the smoked-glass mirrors only made me feel even drunker. It was a couple of moments before I realized the toilet woman was glaring at me again, so I smeared lip gloss everywhere from my top lip to my chin and all places in between, and made my way out, only to have to stumble through several other heavy doors.
It was then that I became aware I hadn’t a clue where I had left Michael sitting.
Scanning the busy room, I could only see bodies and flashing lights and waitresses and people walking past me on mobile phones.
Trying to get my bearings I propped myself up against a cigarette machine. Bringing my right index finger up to extend
Michael returned to the living room, with an open bottle of JD, a bottle of Coca-Cola and three tumblers.
‘Close your eyes,’ he demanded, his piercing brown eyes looking serious. Worried by his unpredictability I said, ‘What?’ But he just smiled. ‘Close your eyes for me, heart-breaker.’
I did as he said. I could hear him place the glasses and bottles on the table, and then immediately a powerful scent wafted up my nose, giving me a fright. I jolted my eyes open, only to see Michael waving a sprig of rosemary in front of me.
‘I picked it for you from the garden. There were no flowers to be seen, but this does smell beautiful … Just like youuu,’ he cooed.
It wasn’t quite Interflora calling, but I did see the romance in his gesture. He was still sweet, even though he was ridiculously high as a kite.
And just as we were starting to enjoy a moment locking lips, Robert De Niro came stomping back in, proclaiming, ‘Daz and Charlie are on their way.’ Not knowing if they were terms for more drugs or actual people, I sat back and sipped quietly on the Jack and Coke which Michael handed me.
‘WHOO-HAA!’ he whooped, like Al Pacino in
Scent of a Woman
. ‘I feel a big one going down!’
Staring out the window, I noticed that it had started to sheet rain – tears from heaven, indeed. How the hell was I going to get myself out of this mess?
‘
I’M IN SUM BAR, OR CLUB TYPE PLACE IN CHEL-SEE
,’ I shouted down the phone to Maddie. ‘
AN I’M WASTED!
’ After about ten hours’ drinking, I suddenly felt the need to call home again.
And while I couldn’t really make out what she was saying, apart from, ‘… coming home? … OK? I’ll kill ’im!’ it was a comfort in itself to know she was at the other end of the phone – even if I couldn’t hear her over the pounding bass of the dance music.
Slumped on a toilet, I sat and stared at myself in the full-length mirror on the back of the door. God, I was a state. I could easily be that bird from the Prodigy’s ‘Smack My Bitch Up’ video.
Looking at my screen to see if I was still connected, I shouted down the phone, ‘I MISS YOU … I’M FF-FINE … TALK TO YA TOMORROW, HON!’ And then threw the phone back in my Prada bag. Thinking, duty done, I’d have put her mind at ease …
As I thought about rising to my feet, I wondered had I fallen asleep in the toilet? I was convinced I had lost time somewhere. I had a track record of taking power naps.
After gathering the energy to stand up I misplaced my footing and fell forwards against the door with a bang.
Very ladylike I thought, bursting into fits of laughter.
Pulling up my cerise Kylie pants, I safely positioned my bag on my shoulder and, taking a deep breath, I unlocked the door and tried not to fall down. Greeted with a disapproving frown by the toilet attendant who sat surrounded by the contents of a pharmacy, and several women availing themselves of her perfumes, deodorants and lollypops, I pulled the face of a six-year-old girl and stuck my tongue out at her the second she turned her back.
I was sorry I hadn’t applied some make-up in the cubicle, for the main area around the sinks was dimly lit and the smoked-glass mirrors only made me feel even drunker. It was a couple of moments before I realized the toilet woman was glaring at me again, so I smeared lip gloss everywhere from my top lip to my chin and all places in between, and made my way out, only to have to stumble through several other heavy doors.
It was then that I became aware I hadn’t a clue where I had left Michael sitting.
Scanning the busy room, I could only see bodies and flashing lights and waitresses and people walking past me on mobile phones.
Trying to get my bearings I propped myself up against a cigarette machine. Bringing my right index finger up to extend
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