Bad Bridesmaid

by Portia MacIntosh

  ‘You’re on,’ I reply. ‘But I’m picking the poison.’

  ‘Whatever the lady wants,’ the big bloke replies mockingly.

  I grab my bag to head out to find an off licence, because if we’re doing this, we’re going to drink something I know we can handle, not the old man bourbon he appears to be cradling in his hand.

  ‘She won’t be back,’ the big guy laughs to his friends.

  ‘I will,’ I reply. ‘You can keep these four as insurance, they shouldn’t give you any trouble.’

  Chapter 27

  Now, I’m not stupid. I know that, despite Belle and her friends’ best efforts on a Saturday night, they are not hardened drinkers, and that while I have a tolerance for alcohol that would be more suited to a rugby player, there is no denying that these men would probably be able to outdrink us based on body size alone… and yet I refuse to be beaten. In situations like these you need to think outside the box, so it got me thinking, it’s not how much we drink that will help us beat these guys, it’s what we drink.

  The girls looked visibly relieved when I arrived back with my bags of booze, I think it might have crossed their minds that I might leave them here.

  We are currently having a team talk – me and my girls at one side of the room and Jimmy and his guys at the other, over by the guy on the karaoke machine who is still singing Elvis tunes, only now he’s on to ‘In The Ghetto’. Jimmy, I found out, is the name of my massive opponent. I found this out when he told me his team were called ‘Jimmy and the Bastards’. Despite my best efforts to get my team motivated, I’m not having much luck. When I told them we needed a team name, Belle suggested ‘Terrified’ and ‘Dead Meat’ but neither seemed suitable.

  ‘Listen,’ I whisper to them, ‘I have bought the most sickly-sweet drinks I could think of. It might be the kind of junk we knock back all weekend but there’s no way these guys will have the stomach for it.’

  ‘Do you think so?’ Belle asks curiously.

  ‘Look at them, they’re all drinking beer or bourbon – do you really think they can chain drink Kapop Shotz like we can?’

  Kapops are a popular brand of alcopops here in the UK, but Kapop Shotz are super-strong vodka-based shots in ridiculous flavours like candy floss and toffee apple. For girls who like to get smashed but don’t particular enjoy the taste of alcohol, they’re perfect. What I’m hoping is that big, tough guys like these won’t be able to stand them.

  ‘OK, I hate to admit it, but maybe she’s right,’ Nancy reasons.

  ‘Of course I am! Come on, Belle, what do you say? Don’t you want a hen night to remember for the rest of your life? We can find a club, go dance around our handbags until we get bored or we can stay here, show these motherfuckers who’s boss and let them pay for our drinks all night while we abuse their karaoke machine. What do you say?’

  As I deliver the last line of my speech, the girls are all standing – excited and ready to kick some ass. I feel like a king addressing his army before a big battle.

  Going up against us we have Jimmy and his four bastards. They have laid empty shot glasses out on the table, a row for each competitor.

  ‘Go on then, what silly girly tipple have you got for us?’ Jimmy asks, and when I produce the brightly coloured Kapop Shotz bottles from my bag, he bursts out laughing. ‘That’s what you’ve brought? Liquid sweeties? I almost feel bad, we’re going to crush you.’

  I look at my teammates expecting to see terrified faces, but they look cool, calm and confident.

  ‘F you,’ Belle shouts. ‘The sooner we start, the sooner we’ll see who the winner is.’

  ‘We will,’ Jimmy laughs.

  ‘And I look forward to you paying for our drinks all night,’ Belle adds confidently, and it makes me smile to see her enjoying herself.

  The barman pours the brightly coloured liquids into the lines of glasses in front of each of us.

  ‘Here’s the rules,’ he starts. ‘When I say go, you go. The winner is the first team to finish and if anyone throws up, their team loses.’

  We all nod in agreement to the rules.

  ‘OK, go!’

  We all knock our first shot back in unison.

  ‘Fuck me, that’s sweet,’ one of Jimmy’s bastards gasps.

  ‘Just get on with it, you big girl,’ Jimmy yells back.

  As we all carry on knocking back drinks I can’t help but notice that the boys seem to be going through them faster than we are, but Jimmy looks like he is struggling.

  ‘Are you OK there, Jimmy? You don’t look so good,’ I tease.

  ‘Shut up and drink,’ he snaps.

  ‘Gladly,’ I reply between drinks. ‘Mmm, they’re so yummy and sweet. Is this one the toffee apple?’ I ask no one in particular. ‘You can really taste the toffee.’

  ‘I think so,’ Belle replies. ‘It’s like pure sugar, it’s so yummy.’

  Jimmy has just one glass left in front of him, but as he downs his second to last shot he brings his hand up to his mouth and his eyes widen.

  ‘You feeling OK, Jim?’ I ask insincerely. ‘You’re looking a little green. You know, like when you’re on a boat and you’re bobbing up and down and up and down.’ As I say this I sway from side to side in front of him, and just when I think Jimmy is about to reach for his final glass his mouth erupts with brightly coloured vomit. He raises his hands to his face but all this does is force the sick to splatter his teammates either side of him. It is a truly revolting sight, but battles are never pretty.

  Even though Jimmy’s team had far less left to drink, we are the winners because he couldn’t keep his drink down.

  I pick up one of the remaining shots and sip at it leisurely.

  ‘Take your time, ladies, we’ll be here all night.’

  You would think that a big man like Jimmy might be ashamed about losing to a bunch of girls, but he roars with laughter as he wipes his mouth.

  ‘You’re OK by me, ladies, you can stay. Dave,’ he calls to the barman, ‘start a tab for my new friends.’

  As my teammates all cheer and hug each other, I can tell that my sister is genuinely delighted, and having the time of her life.

  ‘So, we’re staying here?’ I ask her.

  ‘We’re staying here,’ she replies.

  Chapter 28

  As I watch my sister drunkenly performing ‘Jailhouse Rock’ on the karaoke machine, I sit in one of the cushioned pub chairs with my feet up and sip at my glass of DIY rosé wine, which Jimmy created for me by mixing red and white, because that’s what his daughter drinks. Jimmy and his bastards are actually pretty nice guys, and despite my sister’s terrible singing voice, they’re all cheering her on.

  The karaoke machine, it turns out, is only programmed with Elvis Presley songs. Thankfully, even though we’re not hardcore fans of the King, we all seem to know quite a few of his tracks. Singing along with the guy who was occupying the mic when we arrived soon turned into us all agreeing we would do one track each. I don’t think any of us are particularly gifted in the singing department, but we’re all feeling very brave since our drink-off, and we’ve had quite a bit since.

  As Belle finishes her song she cheers herself just as loudly as her audience is cheering for her. She grabs herself a glass of wine from the bar and plonks herself down next to me.

  ‘You didn’t plan this hen party at all, did you?’ she asks.

  ‘No,’ I admit. ‘I didn’t know I was supposed to. I’m really sorry,’ I slur.

  ‘That’s OK, I am having so much fun!’ Belle cheers and points at Jimmy who is performing an actually beautiful rendition of ‘The Wonder of You’. Heather and Beth are watching him and screaming with delight, like he’s Michael Bublé.

  ‘Really?’ I ask.

  ‘Really,’ she replies. ‘None of the other girls would have brought me somewhere like this, and we wouldn’t have had this much fun anywhere else. You’re my favourite sister.’

  ‘I’m your only sister,’ I remind her.

 
‘You’re my favourite only sister though.’

  I laugh and thank her. That might be the nicest thing she has ever said to me.

  ‘My name is Belle,’ my sister reads her name badge out loud. ‘And I like to be on top.’ She giggles quietly. ‘I do like to be on top.’

  I down the last of my drink.

  ‘I’m pretty sure I imagined that,’ I say to myself.

  Over in the corner of the room, two men are having a disagreement and it’s getting pretty heated. One punches the other in the face so the barman grabs him by his shirt and throws him out of the front door.

  ‘Oh, it’s all kicking off, isn’t it?’ Nancy says excitedly as she sits down with us.

  ‘I’m having so much fun,’ Belle says again.

  I have lost count of the number of times my sister has expressed how much she is enjoying herself tonight, but it is music to my ears. I have finally done something right and I’ll drink to that. I pour the three of us a bright green shot.

  ‘To my sister’s last night of freedom,’ I toast, and we drink.

  ‘You can have your room back now that Dan is better,’ my sister says generously. He’s been better for a few days, but this is the first I’ve heard about being allowed my own bed again – she must be really pleased with my efforts tonight. ‘That way you won’t have to sleep with Leo any more.’

  ‘I thought you wanted separate rooms for the night before the big day?’ I remind her.

  ‘Yeah, but Dan can sleep on the sofa or kick Mike out of his bed or something,’ she babbles.

  I shrug my shoulders casually.

  ‘Is something going on between you and Leo?’ Nancy asks.

  ‘Nope,’ I reply firmly.

  ‘But you seem so close, you’re always together–’

  ‘And they sleep in the same bed,’ Belle interrupts.

  ‘And you sleep in the same bed,’ Nancy echoes. ‘And Belle offered you your own bed back and you clearly don’t want it. Do you have feelings for him?’

  ‘Nope,’ I reply, although I’m slightly less confident with the delivery of that one.

  ‘You like him,’ Belle assures me. ‘You sleep with the people you don’t like, so by that logic, you don’t sleep with the ones you really do like.’

  ‘You’re the one stopping me sleeping with him. Anyway, that makes no sense, you drunk bitch,’ I laugh.

  ‘I think you like him too,’ Nancy insists. ‘I’ve been watching you together and I can just tell.’

  I bat away the suggestion with a wave of my hand, just as Jimmy finishes his song.

  ‘Up next we have Mia, give her a round of applause,’ he shouts down the microphone.

  ‘But I haven’t even picked my song,’ I insist.

  ‘I picked it for you,’ Belle informs me. ‘It’s super-appropriate.’

  I make my way to the makeshift stage and take the microphone from Jimmy. As I start singing the words as they appear on the screen, it doesn’t take me long to realise what I’m singing – ‘Can’t Help Falling in Love’. Oh, very funny, my sister is suddenly a comedian it seems. As the words leave my lips, I really think about what Belle and Nancy were saying. It’s ridiculous, isn’t it? I mean, Leo and I are just friends. If we were shagging instead of sleeping at opposite ends of a bed, and kissing instead of watching movies and messing around on the beach all day, then maybe I could understand why they’re thinking what they’re thinking. What am I talking about? I’m drunk, I have no idea what I’m thinking.

  I finish my song to a massive round of applause, but I can’t help but feel annoyed. I’m not sure why, but that conversation about Leo has just rubbed me up the wrong way and suddenly I’m not in the mood for partying any more.

  Chapter 29

  As I stroll along the quiet street towards the beach house, I swig from the bottle of blueberry Kapop Shotz that I grabbed before leaving the pub. I scrunch up my face and make funny noises after each sip because it really is so sweet, and I’ve had way too much.

  I’m struggling to stay on my feet. This either has something to do with my very high heels or the fact that I have had far too much alcohol, even by my standards. My legs are like jelly and it feels like I’m walking on a waterbed, not the pavement.

  The other girls are far drunker than I am. So drunk that, when I told them I was going home because I was tired, they didn’t even question it. Weirdly, they seemed gutted that I was leaving – we’ve actually had a really fun night, but with my mood taking a turn for the worse, I thought it best I leave. I’ll slip off my dress, climb into bed and try and get to sleep. The boys will almost certainly still be partying, so I’ll make the most of having the bed to myself and not being squashed on my own side.

  The beach house is in sight, but walking just feels so difficult. Deciding that my shoes are just holding me back, I kick them off in the street, picking them up in my free hand. As I walk the final few feet towards the stairs to the front door, I alternate between swigging my drink and quietly singing ‘Can’t Help Falling in Love’ to myself, dancing my way along, pretending my life is a musical.

  I let out a little yelp as I make out a figure sitting on the bottom step. I was expecting everyone to either still be out or be fast asleep by now – it must be after midnight.

  ‘Hello you,’ Leo says cheerily, sounding like he’s had his own fair share of alcohol tonight. He’s looking really good in a pair of black trousers and a white shirt. He’s drinking a bottle of beer and as he lifts it to his lips to take a drink, the sleeve of his shirt looks like it might burst open courtesy of his bulging bicep. I remind myself not to look at him like that, we’re just friends, we’re just friends.

  ‘Leonardo,’ I greet him, clumsily plonking myself down on the step next to him. ‘What are you doing home so early?’

  ‘I could ask you the same thing,’ he replies, smiling that dreamy smile of his that shows off the cute dimples in his cheeks… stop it, Mia!

  ‘I don’t know,’ I reply. ‘I’m just drunk.’

  ‘Me too,’ he laughs. ‘Cheers.’

  Leo holds up his bottle and I clink it with my own. We both drink.

  ‘Beer, though,’ I start. ‘That’s not a man’s drink. This is a man’s drink.’

  I wiggle my bottle of blueberry, sugary vodka at him.

  ‘Men don’t drink that,’ he tells me.

  ‘Real men can’t drink this,’ I tell him. ‘They can’t handle it.’

  Leo laughs and takes the bottle from me. He takes a confident swig, but scrunches up his face as soon as he swallows.

  ‘My God, that’s sweet,’ he gasps. ‘I’ll stick to my beer.’

  ‘No you won’t,’ I inform him, pouring the remaining contents of his bottle into the nearest plant before pushing the neck of the bottle into the soil. ‘You can’t let me drink this on my own.’

  ‘If I drink that I’ll end up with a blue tongue like you,’ he insists.

  ‘My tongue isn’t blue,’ I mumble, opening my mouth as little as possible when I speak.

  ‘Prove it,’ he demands, but I keep my mouth tightly closed like a little kid refusing to eat her peas.

  Leo, who isn’t willing to take my word for it, gently opens my mouth with his hand and pinches my tongue between his fingers.

  ‘There you go, it’s blue.’

  ‘Eww,’ I squeak. ‘I know where those hands have been. There’s only one thing for it, I’ll have to drink more blue alcohol to try and clean my mouth.’

  I take a big swig from the bottle and jokingly swish the liquid around inside my mouth.

  ‘You look like you went down on a Smurf,’ he laughs. His joke catches me by surprise, causing me to erupt with laughter, spraying blue drink all over his lovely white shirt.

  ‘Shit, I am so sorry,’ I cackle. ‘Take it off, I will fix it.’

  ‘You will fix it?’

  ‘I will. I’ll just pour some of the candy floss flavoured one on it, it’ll bring the blue right out.’

  Leo laughs a
nd shakes his head.

  ‘Give me that bottle,’ he demands as he takes off his shirt. I do as he asks, and watch as he takes a drink. It never ceases to amaze me just how perfect his body is, he’s like a statue. He has splashes of blue all over his chest so I brush them off with my hands. Maybe it’s because I’m drunk, maybe it’s because I’m a dirty girl, but I just can’t seem to remove my hands from his rock-hard chest, it’s like a magnet is holding them in place. Leo reaches out and places the bottle on the side before gently grabbing me by the wrists and pulling me close for a kiss. No one has ever kissed me like this before, it’s slow and it feels like it lasts a lifetime. It isn’t like the sexy, passion-fuelled kiss we shared on the day we met but it isn’t a friendly kiss either.

  As Leo releases me I lose my balance a little, falling into him.

  ‘Let’s go upstairs,’ he says as he picks me up, throwing me over his shoulder.

  I giggle with delight – well, isn’t this every girl’s fantasy? To be carried to bed by a fireman.

  ***

  My head hurts. Not just my head, but my hair too, every last strand of it is causing me physical pain every time I dare to move my head on the pillow. I feel like I’ve been hit in the face – by a wrecking ball, a really big one with a butt-naked Miley Cyrus warbling away on top of it.

  My eyes are closed, but my eyelids are glowing red from the bright sunlight. I would bring my hands to my face to cover them but I just can’t find the strength. As my stomach grumbles and bubbles like a pan of boiling water, it occurs to me that when I do find the energy to move my arms, I should probably cover my mouth. It’s not a case of if I’m going to be sick, it’s a case of when.

  What the hell happened last night? I remember arriving at The Cock, our drinking game with the locals and my sister treating me like a human being (although that last part sounds like something drunk-me might have wishfully made up). I left early, didn’t I? I made my own way home and then…

  My body remains perfectly still, but my eyes open suddenly. I allow myself to stare into space for a second so my eyes can adjust before allowing myself to glance down at my body. It turns out that it isn’t a lack of energy or some kind of alcohol-induced paralysis that is stopping me from moving, it’s a man’s arm wrapped around my body.