The Naked Drinking Club by Rhona Cameron Page A

should just leave it. They’re obviously not your cup of tea, and that’s fine. You can’t please everybody.’ I knew they’d urge me to stay for their own amusement.
    ‘No, no, we promise to behave,’ said Dick Two, pulling up a chair for his feet.
    I pulled out the ladies in the field.
    ‘An absolute classic!’ applauded Hugo. I remained looking relaxed and moved slowly to give myself time to work out what to do. I had no idea why I didn’t leave and spare myself the effort of trying to get them to like and want what I had, other than I was becoming addicted to the risk of losing and the challenge of winning – and the realisation that it was me I was trying to sell to people.
    ‘Sorry, I can’t let the girl go on; I’ve got to help her out here,’ said Dick One.
    ‘What?’ I made myself look as though I was enjoying their game as much as they were enjoying mine.
    ‘This is Robin Bullivant, one of Sydney’s most up-and-coming young painters.’
    I gulped my wine. ‘Yeah, really?’ I turned to Robin. She was a fairly attractive woman, perhaps a few years older than me, with cropped blonde hair and glasses. ‘Great. Are you currently exhibiting? Sorry, I don’t know anything about the Sydney scene. I haven’t been here long.’
    ‘Yes, I am actually, in Paddington. Do you know the Signs Gallery?’
    ‘Nope, sorry. Like I said, I’ve only just kind of got here.’
    ‘Pleeease, can we see more of your terrible paintings?’ begged Dick Two again. He had dry white bits in the corner of his mouth.
    ‘Well, I do have to sell some at the end of the day. It’s my living and you’re just blatantly taking the piss.’ Although I was direct I didn’t lose the casual relaxed tone.
    ‘Did you pick these up in Bali on the way over?’ asked the woman who had wanted to leave earlier. I took off my cagoule as a bead of sweat ran down the side of my face.
    ‘No, I didn’t actually. I painted them.’ I drank more from my wine, and took a cigarette Robin had offered to me, allowing them time to laugh then feel the silence afterwards as they realised what I’d said. I was cranking up, I had found some direction. I stepped purposefully over to the folder and dragged heavily on my Marlboro.
    ‘Do you honestly think I like trying to get rid of this shite? Of course not, but I’m an artist and I have to make a living.’
    ‘Seriously?’ asked Robin.
    ‘What do you think? I mean, look at this stuff.’ I pulled out the unicorn drinking by the lake. They erupted, except for Robin and the couple who wanted to pick up Max from the wife’s parents. ‘It’s a fuckin’ unicorn, for fuck’s sake.’ I had them howling. ‘But I’ll tell you something, it sells.’
    ‘I don’t believe you,’ said Hugo. ‘Not round here, please. Maybe over in Redfern.’ I didn’t know where Redfern was. ‘So, is this a tourist rip-off thing or something? I mean, Nick’s right, they’re from Bali or Hong Kong, yeah?’
    ‘It’s a long story,’ I said, finishing my wine and wondering what my long story was going to be.
    ‘Sit down, sit down.’ Nick slapped a seat next to him and Robin. ‘Tell us all about it, wee travelling lassie.’
    ‘That’s a really good Scottish accent by the way,’ I said, toasting him with my empty glass and winking at Robin.
    ‘More wine?’ asked Dick Two.
    ‘Why not? It’s Sunday.’ I smiled at the gathering. Then I continued, directing most of my spiel at Robin and at Max’s parents, who seemed to be the dullest of the bunch. ‘No, seriously. I graduated from Edinburgh College of Art last year.’ I felt much more confident out of my cagoule.
    Robin said, ‘Oh OK. In?’
    I could see she was genuinely interested and not doubting my credentials in the slightest. ‘Oh, fine art, painting mostly.’ I worried that it was wrong to say ‘painting mostly’ and that ‘fine art’ should have covered it.
    ‘Right, right. I also did fine art, but I graduated four years ago