Champagne Kisses

by Amanda Brunker

  Typically, Maddie returned by the time all the hard labour had been completed.

  ‘Are you done?’ she snapped, as she jumped in the front seat of her car. ‘Come on, let’s get out of here.’

  Stunned by her lack of sympathy, I counted to ten, then a hundred, in my head trying desperately hard to keep my cool.

  ‘So enough about me,’ I said in my best sarcastic tone. ‘What’s eating you, Miss Narky Knickers?’

  Biting her top lip, Maddie let out a big sigh before glancing in my direction and telling me, ‘It’s not all about you, love.’

  Totally hard-done-by, my temper snapped as I unleashed a tirade of abuse.

  ‘Eh, no, sorry, actually today is all about me, I’m the one whose life has fallen apart. I’m the person who’s just been evicted from their home. I’m the one who’s lost their job and has no prospects. Yes, today is all about me!’

  Obviously counting numbers in her own head, Maddie strained a fake smile. ‘Are you finished yet?’

  But I wasn’t.

  ‘Where do you get off being grumpy with me? I’ve just had the worst run of luck lately and then you come along all bitchy and clearly feeling sorry for yourself. What did ya do? Break a fuckin’ fingernail?’

  We had only got two minutes down the road before Maddie swerved the car into a pub car park, clipping her shiny hubcaps on the kerb and threw her real Prada handbag on to my lap.

  ‘Open it,’ she demanded.

  Furious with life, never mind Maddie, I sat with my arms crossed, refusing to obey her demand.

  ‘Open it,’ she repeated and her eyes bulged as she spoke. But I was a woman in pain, and was not prepared to jump to her orders.

  ‘Why should I?’ I snapped. ‘Are the answers to all my problems hiding in your precious handbag?’

  Grabbing the bag back off my lap, Maddie started to shake with anger, but I wasn’t about to flinch. Weakness was not something us women readily showed.

  ‘You really are a total bitch sometimes,’ she snarled.

  Not wanting her to have the last word, I barked back, ‘Yes, well, that would probably have something to do with the company I keep.’

  As the two of us sat fuming, looking out of our respective windows, I decided that maybe I should try and make up, especially since she had all my worldly possessions in the back of her car. Unfortunately it took about five minutes before I buckled, and by then the atmosphere had become extremely tense. So much so that I could see an actual vein on the side of Maddie’s neck bulge and pulsate under the pressure.

  I wanted to ask if she was auditioning for a part as Dracula’s girlfriend, but thought best not to mention it.

  Instead, I decided to act as if nothing had happened. That approach sometimes worked, and at least then I wouldn’t have to apologize.

  ‘Parker was such a pet to let me move in with him but he said he’d have to leave the apartment by 12.30. If I don’t get there beforehand, I won’t be able to get a key off him until tonight.’

  Almost snorting, Maddie cracked a smile of frustration. ‘Sorry, is our little argument delaying you from getting on with the rest of your day?’

  Knowing that she’d appreciate my boldness, I smirked back, ‘Very much so. Now can we get a move on?’

  Rolling her head and rubbing her shoulders to relieve the stress built up in them, she whispered, ‘In a minute.’

  I could see she was building up to something. I just couldn’t work out what.

  ‘I need you to forget about your madness for one minute, hon, and just listen. I really need you to listen.’

  I hated us bickering, so I pulled my cheekiest cheesy grin and waited for a lecture.

  My cheeks had begun to ache before she started to speak.

  Shaking out her hands, she placed them back on the wheel before looking me square in the eyes. ‘I’m in trouble Eva, and I don’t know what I’m going to do about it,’ she said.

  ‘Trouble? You’re in trouble? Are you trying to steal my thunder?’

  ‘I swear to God, this is bad. Right now I’d take your life over mine.’ She started to laugh.

  ‘Have you taken any funny pills today? You’re acting a little strange if you don’t mind me tellin’ ya.’

  ‘Sorry, I’m just a bit giddy with my nerves, but I am serious. I’d swap you your big arse an’ all, to take away my problem.’

  ‘Go on then, spit it out. It can’t be that bad.’

  ‘Open up my handbag.’

  ‘Jaysus, not this again, I’m afraid to stick my hand in it now in case something hops out and bites me. What’s in the bloody bag? Tell me.’

  ‘Remember I used your loo back at the house?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Well, I was gone longer than I normally would be.’

  ‘Yes, I did notice. I got to shift all the heavy stuff on my own, thanks.’

  ‘Well, I had to wait.’

  ‘For God’s sake Maddie, for what? What did you have to wait for?’

  ‘The test. I had to wait for the test to work.’

  ‘OK, maybe I’m just a little thick today, so I’m going to need you to help me out here. What test? What did you have to wait for? ’

  No sooner had the words come out of my mouth, than a light bulb went off in my head.

  ‘Maddie, tell me this is not what I think it is?’ Taking her bag back off her, I opened it up and found a pregnancy test sitting inside.

  Gobsmacked I lifted it out delicately with my thumb and forefinger, knowing that she had of course peed all over it.

  ‘So this is the mystery test then, yeah? Now I’m not too up on my pregnancy tests, hon, but I’d wager that blue cross is suggesting that you’re pregnant. Is that true?’

  ‘Mmmm.’

  ‘WHAT? What’s Mmmm? You’re pregnant? Since when? And more importantly, by whom?’

  ‘Mmmm means yes. Secondly about three weeks, and thirdly by a guy I’ll never see again.’

  ‘Maddie, have you lost your mind? Where were you three weeks ago? Do I know him?’

  ‘I got pregnant – jeez, I can’t believe I just said that. Anyway, it happened the night we were all in London. After you went off into the distance with your New Yorker, I met this guy and we hit it off.’

  ‘Literally! Did you get his number?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘So, what are you going to do? Are you going to try and find him? Are you going to keep it? Jesus Christ, Maddie, that’s wild. You’re fuckin’ mad. I can’t believe you let yourself get caught.’

  ‘Thanks. Thanks for the words of encouragement.’

  ‘Sorry. It’s just a bit of a shock, that’s all.’

  ‘Ya reckon?’

  ‘You’ve obviously been hanging around me too long. My bad karma must have rubbed off on you.’

  ‘Well, do you think you could take your smelly karma back? I don’t want it. And I don’t want this baby either.’

  5

  ‘I’M BACK,’ SCREAMED Lisa. ‘And I’ve been having the best sex ever!’

  It had been nearly a month since I had last seen or heard from the Princess, and as always there was a big story to be told.

  So she took me for lunch at Le Café to fill me in.

  ‘OK. I’ve been in rehab, and I had the most wonderful time. I think everyone should go. I truly feel like a new woman.’

  ‘Rehab? For what? Addiction to spending money? I thought that was a natural female trait?’

  ‘Exhaustion.’

  ‘Excuse me?’

  ‘Well that would be on my official file. I thought it was very LA to be checked in under exhaustion. Everyone from Lindsay Lohan to Robbie Williams has used it. I flirted with the idea of sex addict, but since Daddy was the only one who would take me in, I thought it best not to. Of course Mother just laughed at me when I asked to go.’

  ‘Hang on a second, all this time you’ve been un-contactable, you’ve been locked up in a loony bin? Let me guess, you were hanging out with a load of stars i
n the Priory?’

  ‘No, the Priory is so nineties. I have no interest in sharing caring-time with Z-list celebrities such as Kerry Katona, thank you very much. How very common. No, I discovered a very sexy retreat in Wicklow. It costs the earth. All the big names have been.’

  ‘Like who?’

  ‘Oh, it would be far too indiscreet to say. I made a promise in group therapy not to divulge, but I can tell you about Francis.’

  ‘Oh, yeah, tell me all about your new crazy friend then.’

  ‘I will, but not before you fill me in on some of your own craziness.’

  Two hours and several hot chocolates later, we had swapped our war stories. It turned out that although Lisa’s problems were merely attention seeking, she had found herself a Bob Geldof who had placed a large Band-Aid over her neediness. Although equally as scruffy, and apparently ‘Just as creative’, Francis was a 53-year-old alcoholic artist with commitment issues, who had introduced Lisa to outdoor tantric sex, smoking hash and Oscar Wilde. Having finally found her G-spot or ‘F-spot’, honouring Francis with the credit, Lisa had indeed emerged a new philosophical woman.

  No longer obsessed with her image, or ‘superficial shell’, as she called it, Lisa had come over all Mother Teresa and wanted to help people. With me being her first pet project.

  Quoting the Gospel according to Wilde, Lisa explained, ‘Those who have much are often greedy. I want to change that. I want to do good by people.’

  Stunned by her change in personality I sat in silence as I watched my friend’s evolution.

  It was overwhelming.

  ‘Experience is the name everyone gives to their mistakes,’ she preached, ‘and I have made more than most. But Francis has made me see the light, and I’ve learned from them.’

  It was when she said ‘To love oneself is the beginning of a lifelong romance’ that I stood up and screamed, ‘Enough already!’

  Her Wildean wisdom was brilliant, but bordering on spooky.

  But who was I to judge? She was happy. The happiest I’d ever seen her, in fact. And I was afraid to tell her that no amount of Botox could irradiate the creases forming around the broad smile she was now wearing. Let’s face it, it could have been worse. Lisa could have discovered Scientology in rehab. At least she was keeping it retro.

  By five o’clock Parker had joined us. He was only meant to be picking me up, but since he hadn’t seen Lisa in ages either, he decided our frozen pizzas and cheese nachos could wait.

  In no time at all we had become quite the old married couple. No sex, just plenty of arguing! He had even started giving me pocket money for helping him with his work, set-designing some new period drama based in Kilkenny, for which I had to research furniture and fabrics on the internet. But his charity could only be temporary. I would need to get my fat ass in gear and find something more permanent quick.

  Not content to let me fill him in on Lisa’s gossip, he demanded to hear an abbreviated version from the horse’s mouth immediately.

  Unable to contain himself he screamed, ‘You shagged an old man in the bushes? In rehab?’

  Understandably, this grabbed the attention of the entire room, which had now filled up with Trinity student types. The manager even smiled over and gave Lisa a congratulatory round of applause. The old Lisa would have been mortified at such attention, but the new improved Miss Tiswell just smiled and took it in her stride.

  ‘Francis and I are on separate paths now. But he has steered me on course for a better journey. I will always love that man.’

  Needless to say, later that evening over our convenience dinner Parker and myself could talk of nothing more than Lisa’s metamorphosis.

  ‘I thought Madonna’s reinvention couldn’t be topped, but Lisa is priceless. Who knew riding some dirty aul fella could change you for the better? That musta been strong weed he was peddlin!’

  Obviously with her ears burning ‘The Princess’ flashed up on my phone.

  ‘OK,’ she said matter-of-factly, ‘I hope you’ve found all the lamps and curtains Parker needs, because I’ve got you a proper job.’

  ‘Whatya mean?’

  ‘What do you mean, whatya mean? I’ve got you an in-house PR job with my dad’s company. He said he’d be delighted for you to be part of the team. So that’s that sorted.’

  ‘But I’m a journalist, Lisa.’

  ‘No, you were a journalist, now you’re a PR executive who gets to write loads of glowing propaganda about my dad’s property in Portugal. It’s perfect for you and you’re doing it.’

  ‘Oh, so do I not get a say in this matter?’

  ‘Are you telling me you have an argument with €50,000 a year?’

  ‘Ha! You’re kidding me. Nope. I can write thousands of words on how fabulous Quinta do Lago or wherever it is, is to holiday. When do I start?’

  ‘Good girl. You start tomorrow.’

  Starting a fresh job the day before St Patrick’s weekend was probably not the best idea.

  Nobody in the office was vaguely interested in showing me the ropes. I was basically pointed in the direction of a large empty desk, told ‘Dial 9 for an outside line’, and that if I didn’t like the coffee I was more than welcome to walk to nearby Baggot Street to buy some.

  My first impressions made me want to run out the door. Despite the warm, friendly smile of the model on the 10-foot poster in the hall promoting Tiswell Properties Ltd no one else was as hospitable.

  Trying to use my initiative, I familiarized myself with all their existing paraphernalia, but any questions I had would have to wait.

  ‘How green will you go?’ seemed to be the topic of the day – and they weren’t talking recycling. And ‘How pissed will you get?’ was the other.

  Mind you, if I had told my new work colleagues that I was dressing as the Jolly Green Giant and was going to drink myself into a coma on Mojitos I still wouldn’t have impressed them.

  Women can be such bitches, and I was sharing an office with three of them and one young gay lad, so unofficially four hormonal women.

  And since I wasn’t naturally a big fan of female company (Maddie and Lisa didn’t count because they were tomboys like me), this looked like it could cause a problem. But for €50,000 I was prepared to slog it out.

  After making a conscious decision that I’d have to make an effort to get on with these waggons, I put down the old newspapers which I had read several times over and ignored the fact that the others were blanking me. Imagining how Anna would behave, I worked the room systematically and learned that Emma, the young blonde, had been engaged a fortnight and was getting married to Frank, a professional golfer, in Mercia next summer.

  Louise, the other blonde (but with bad roots) from Blackrock had a black cat called Naomi and was currently ‘Between relationships’, and was happy concentrating on her career. Yeah, right!

  There was Marcus, who seemed friendly enough, but then he was fairly new to the job and was just thrilled to be living down in Dublin because ‘There’s not much of a gay scene in Muff, County Donegal, as you can imagine!’

  Lastly there was Maureen. She was the hardest of them all, really. She offered up zero conversation. I told her she reminded me of Catherine Zeta-Jones but my attempts at wooing her failed miserably. She was a brick wall, the Berlin Wall. I assured myself she’d crack. But by 5.30 she hadn’t come close to a smile and if anything, my enthusiasm seemed to be annoying her more and more.

  Despite my compliments on her ‘Fabulous Cartier watch’ and her ‘Warm telephone manner’, she couldn’t be frostier to me. As everyone gathered up their coats to head home, I thought what a witch she was.

  It couldn’t possibly have been Catherine Zeta-Jones that she reminded me of. It must have been her mother. With that, and just two steps from the safety of the front door, Maureen swung around to me. Swooping real close she whispered, ‘Have you not worked out who I am yet?’

  Taken by surprise I stumbled backwards and asked, ‘Sorry?’

  ‘I s
aid, have you not worked out who I am yet?’

  Completely baffled I thought for a moment before mumbling, ‘Emmm, the boss of me?’

  ‘God, you’re even more stupid than Annette said.’

  ‘Excuse me?’

  ‘You heard me. Does the name Annette Barron mean anything to you?’

  Instantly my heart sank. Ground, open up and swallow me whole. Maureen was the ferocious-looking woman from the Four Seasons who had been with Annette the day she slapped me. How could I have forgotten?

  Drawing a total blank on anything intelligent to say, I uttered ‘Oh’ before she lunged at me again.

  ‘You had no thoughts for Annette the night you tried to steal her husband, so I can’t imagine you have any consideration for her today. But let me tell you this. You failed. David must have been blind drunk to even consider a slapper like you.’

  Not knowing what to do, I ran. I didn’t notice who had witnessed our altercation. I didn’t care.

  Running in the direction of Grafton Street, I cursed Maureen, Annette and David all the way.

  I then cursed myself for not standing my ground.

  Why hadn’t I told her he seduced me?

  Why was it this snog was coming back to haunt me? Had I not paid for my sins already?

  After spending half the night running up Parker’s phone bill complaining to Anna about my new job, I felt better.

  Parker had been working late with some location managers making decisions on rural castles and churches, and I couldn’t moan to Maddie because she was in a tearful place, and was only in text communication.

  I had tried to get her to go for a walk and talk through her options, but she said she wasn’t up to it.

  Like me, when Maddie had something weighing heavy on her mind she shut down. All she wanted to do was blank out the outside world. She wanted nothing to do with anyone, not even me, and I just had to accept her wishes and hope that she would snap out of her mini-depression soon.

  With a simple text, ‘I’m here for you’, I abandoned annoying Maddie, and focused on annoying Anna. She would have to do. After my confrontation with Maureen I needed someone to talk to and I didn’t care who; this was bound to leak sooner or later, with or without Anna’s help.