‘Emm, what’s this we shit? Are you offering to carry this foetus for the next four and a half months? Share the morning sickness? Which I’ve been told should be renamed morning, noon and night sickness …’
‘Ah come on, I’ll be holding your hand and fat ankles the whole way through it. Ha! This is so exciting, a mini baby Maddie. I hope this London geezer was good-looking? I don’t think I could love an ugly baby.’
‘Fuck off … Of course he was good-looking. At least I think he was …’
‘I know it’s hard to think straight, but are you happy now that you’ve decided to keep the baby? And how do you feel about devoting the next twenty-one years of your life to it?’
‘Don’t call my baby an “it”. I always thought I’d have boys, so until I hear otherwise, I’m carrying a little man. Troy.’
‘Troy? Who or what is Troy?’
‘I’ve always liked the name. He’s my baby and I can call him what I like. And if you have any opinions on it, you can keep them to yourself.’
‘Wow, fair enough. Is this the start of your raging hormones?’
‘Listen, girlfriend. You ain’t seen nothing yet!’
As a waiter returned with our teas, so did the manager, carrying a little pink cupcake. Placing it in front of Maddie, he gave her one of his cheeky winks and said, ‘I thought a baby bun might be apt for this mini celebration of yours. Enjoy – your secret is safe with me.’
As he walked away from the table the two of us raised our hands to our mouths and just stared at each other in silence.
It’s amazing how easily people figure things out. From now on Maddie would have to be so much more careful. Small mercies that Anna wasn’t anywhere in the vicinity, otherwise it would have been game over for Maddie’s secret.
* * *
Three days later, the Princess flashed up on my phone.
‘Hey, Lisa, are you well?’
‘I’m good, Eva, thanks.’
‘What’s the story?’
‘I’ve got bad news, I’m afraid.’
‘Are the family OK?’
‘They’re all fine, thanks but there’s bad news for you I’m afraid.’
Knowing damn well it was something to do with the job, I sheepishly asked, ‘What do you mean?’
‘Dad was on …’
‘Ah …’
‘I’m sorry darling, but Maureen has threatened to quit if he doesn’t remove you from the office. She’s been with him fourteen years, and …’
‘It’s fine. I understand.’
‘It’s just that he’s nowhere else he could put you.’
‘Listen, it’s grand, genuinely.’
‘He’s really sorry.’
‘Forget about it. It’s like water off a duck’s back to me at this stage … I wonder what Wilde would have said in this situation now?’
‘Well, I was just thinking that myself and …’
‘Lisa, I was joking.’
‘No, but I’ve a few quotes here and—’
‘Hello … Hello … Sorry, you’re breaking up … If you can hear me … Hello … Hello … Ah! You’re gone …’ Not able to swallow Wildean reason I cut her short and hung up.
I was in a fragile mental state and this news was just another blow to my already broken heart.
I had been hoping that the Tiswells’ charity life raft would have lasted longer.
Too bad my old ghost ship went and sank it.
‘Tell me what I have to celebrate again?’
‘Well, the herpes has finally gone from your top lip and there’s the fact that you will no longer scare young children and old people in public with your hideous appearance.’
‘Parker …’
‘Sorry, it’s your thirtieth birthday, Eva. You are now officially old.’
Parker as always was never one for subtlety and took great pleasure in winding me up. But it wasn’t as if he was lying. It was my thirtieth birthday, and depending on which way you looked at it, I suppose I was now officially old.
‘On the bright side, I should really command more respect now that I’ve left my twenties behind.’
‘Ha! Who fed you with that bullshit?’
‘It’s true. A woman with lines on her face is taken more seriously.’
‘A woman who has lines on her face just looks like a woman closer to the grave. So are you saying you’d never have Botox?’
‘Don’t be stupid, of course I would. But I’m hanging by a thread here and I’m trying to stay positive.’
‘You’re right. Be old, jobless, homeless and proud.’
* * *
When I arrived at Henry’s Bar 7 everyone I knew was there and greeted me with a big, ‘Surprise!’
Unfortunately the biggest surprise was when I approached the reserved tables and tripped over someone’s handbag and gave everyone a bird’s eye view of my left nipple as it broke free from the several layers of titty tape I had concealed it with.
My backless, bottomless and frontless micro mini black dress did little to hide such a Janet Jackson wardrobe malfunction!
Tangoed to within one inch of my life and painted with heavy black eyeliner not too dissimilar to Amy Winehouse, I was in diva overload, and felt fantastic. I was the centre of attention for all the right reasons tonight, and I was going to milk it.
As everyone told me how well I looked, which I graciously accepted, even though I wasn’t normally great at taking compliments, I sat myself among the throng and got stuck into the glass of pink Anna handed me.
Anna was never my favourite person in the world, but she always got a party going, and tonight I wanted to party.
‘Now anyone who’s not here is going to catch up with us later at the Haven,’ continued Anna. ‘Farrelly and his crew are still barred from here after their rows with the doormen, so they send their apologies, and Smith and his gang are going to some gig at Vicar Street first, but will be down after.’
As always, she knew everyone’s plans. She was so exact about things that I almost felt like she knew what colour underwear you were wearing. But she was as funny as she was dangerous, and after years of battling with her mean streak, had become quite generous with old age. What age that was, no one was quite sure. ‘We’re only talkin’ Hollywood age,’ she’d say. And that had been stuck at twenty-seven for as long as I had known her.
Since there was no sign of Robert yet, whom I had invited purely because I didn’t want to be snogless on my birthday, I was free to flirt with whomever I chose. Not that there were any suitable candidates in view so far. But the night was young.
As I scanned the bar for fresh talent, I spied three familiar faces waving at me. They were the typical middle-aged, pot-bellied wannabes who were constantly on the make, and always in their little group hanging around bars and clubs. Lusting after whatever had a pulse.
‘What are those Daddy Sleazes doing here?’ I asked Anna. Knowing she’d be the one with the info.
‘Shut up, I asked them in. They’ll keep buying us champagne all night. All you have to do is go over to them and chat for a little bit. Just make them laugh, make them feel included and then blank them for the rest of the night.’
‘I can’t stand those eejits.’
‘Who cares? You’re drinking their champagne as we speak. They’ve bought everything on the table so far.’ Guilted into submission, I thought it best to get the thank-yous out of the way, so I adjusted my tittape, glossed up my lips and made my way across to the boyos at the bar.
Surprisingly my charm offensive went well, and after several minutes of hair flicking and some bad golf puns from me, I was able to make my escape by introducing the lads to Cathy.
A sweet girl, she wasn’t exactly my idea of sparkling conversation, but she was a petite pretty blonde and could stomach hours of mind-numbing banter from blokes like these three because all she was interested in was money.
All I had to say was, ‘They’re inheritance boys and big golfers’, and she was all over t
hem like a rash!
With my duty done, I returned to the group only to find Robert being smothered by Parker. Like a protective father he had put his arm around him, and was in the middle of a big talk.
‘I’m just telling Robbie here …’
‘It’s Robert.’
‘OK, whatever. But I was just letting him know that if he hurts you, I’ll hurt him.’
As neither Robert nor myself quite knew if he was serious, I thanked him then informed him that Manuel his favourite barman had just appeared, before hopping on Robert’s lap and snogging the face off him. ‘Hey is that a mobile phone in your pocket? Or are you just pleased to see me?’ I asked, searching for more compliments.
‘Let’s just say that whatever’s in my pocket right now is rock hard, and is available to you for good vibrations.’
Quite clearly turned on by my appearance, his choirboy persona had definitely been left at home; now his alter ego kinky stud was out to play for the first time in public.
Although I had been left a bit freaked by his willy-wear on our last encounter, I was determined to have fun at my own party.
And since the chances of me having sex with anyone this night were next to none considering the amount of alcohol I was planning to consume, I was safe from his advances. Well, Parker had been put under strict instructions that unless Harry Connick Jnr landed in Dublin and demanded to have his wicked way with me, Parker was the only man allowed to take me home.
So for now, kissing and dirty-talk was as much intimacy as I was striving for. And with Robert, the kissing was tongue-tinglingly good. Even if he was more than a little off the wall.
As the night continued, more and more of my social drinking buddies turned up, with the one obvious exception of my best pal Maddie.
I told everyone she’d had a big job in Belfast modelling for some hotel group, and that she had to stay over because the MD of the advertising company had fallen in love with her.
It was a believable lie, yet it didn’t stop Reuters trying to do a bit of detective work on the finer details.
Just as some of the group started to dance on the couch, the owner of the bar, Neil Jacobs, walked over to us wielding two bottles of peach schnapps.
‘Call this a party?’ he laughed, dumping the bottles down on the table in front of me. ‘What you need here is the master party boy to get things started.’
‘Sorry, are we not rowdy enough for you?’ I was half insulted that he didn’t think people would be having fun at my birthday.
‘Gather round, everyone,’ he ordered, ushering boys to their seats while helping girls to step off his couch. ‘We’ve a drinking game to play.’
A legendary character on the Dublin scene, Neil was all about the show. Whether it was at the races, in a restaurant or in his own bar, Neil would always be holding court with naughty party games or by telling fantastically absurd stories.
‘So what’s the game, Neil?’ I asked, already seated, eager to consume even more free booze.
‘It’s the cigarette packet game,’ he explained, ripping the plastic off a packet of John Player Blues he’d taken out of his jacket.
‘Very catchy title,’ said Parker, in his best sarcastic drawl.
‘Excuse me. You better behave, Mr Pink Panther, or you won’t be allowed to play,’ Neil retorted, well able for any of Parker’s jibes.
Not wanting to be excluded from any fun, Parker saluted and smiled. ‘Yes sir – no sir!’
We were like primary school children listening to a teacher read a story as Neil explained that we had to pass this flimsy piece of plastic around the group using only our lips. And every time someone dropped the plastic he’d make us neck a mouthful of peach schnapps straight from the bottle and would also tear the plastic into a smaller strip.
All of a sudden we realized the pitfall of who we had sat down beside.
Thankfully I had Robert to the left of me but there was some unknown girl to the right. She had introduced herself as ‘a friend of Anna’s’, and was a stunning brunette. Although there were several guys that I would have preferred to park myself beside and touch lips with, I felt relieved that I hadn’t got someone unpleasant, even if she was female.
Before the clear plastic baton had reached me, it had been dropped several times and had been torn down to a minuscule size, with all blameable persons being semi-drowned in Neil’s sickly sweet poison.
Everyone huddled around the two tables was getting extremely horny. We had all become excessively loud with the excitement, and Neil felt obliged to tell us to calm things down every few minutes.
‘This is a respectable establishment, lads,’ he’d say. ‘Keep it down,’ before creasing up with laughter.
As the plastic made its way towards me, I could feel myself getting caught up in the naughtiness of the game. So far there had been boys locking lips with other boys as they sucked the piece of plastic off their neighbour – all of them announcing how ‘secure’ they were in their sexuality.
Then came my turn to be passed the cellophane. As my new acquaintance turned to me with her glossy long chestnut brown wavy hair and twinkling doe eyes, she arched one eyebrow and gave me a devilishly cheeky wink before leaning forwards and pressing her full lips against mine.
Closing my eyes as if we were sharing a proper kiss, I pushed my lips against hers, and was temporarily lost in the smell of her sweet perfume.
I had never been this close to a woman before, yet it didn’t feel strange or weird. In fact it felt perfectly normal, and wonderfully enjoyable. Actually it was better than that. It was fantastically erotic. Why the hell hadn’t I kissed girls before? And why did all these people have to be here? I could be lost in this kiss – this plastic-cover-coated kiss – all night! Of course with everyone chanting, ‘Go Eva – go the diva!’ I doubled up with a fit of the giggles and dropped the plastic down my top.
As Neil automatically reached for his bottle my new girlfriend wasted no time. Saying ‘Let me fish that out for you’, she softly slid her dainty fingers under the fold of my dress and retrieved the nearly invisible piece of plastic from my right boob. ‘Here it is,’ she said, then bit her bottom lip suggestively.
Was this gorgeous girl coming on to me, I wondered? But I had no time to react. Neil had almost viciously grabbed my chin and had started to drown me in peach schnapps.
‘Extra helpings for the birthday girl,’ he screamed. To which everyone cheered.
Neil ordered me to start the game again with a fresh piece of plastic, since the last piece was too small. I turned to Robert, who I had almost forgotten was still with me.
He had a strange look on his face, as if he was jealous. Then as if he felt he had to reclaim his woman, he quickly licked a few stray splashes of peach schnapps off my arm before puckering up.
He lingered as we swapped the plastic, but all I could think about was this chick beside me flirting.
As we mirrored tongues through the plastic, Parker and Anna chanted ‘Get a room’, so I sheepishly pulled back and let him move on to Lisa, which he did very quickly, before snapping his head back to me with possessive eyes and squeezing my thigh.
Instantly a look of disappointment shot across her face, which was pretty amazing as her regular Botox injections rarely allowed such emotions to be shown.
Looking like one of those latex sex dolls with her mouth gaping open as she tried to suck in the piece of plastic, she threw me an evil eye as if to say who the fuck does your boyfriend think he’s snubbing? Turning to an old boyfriend of hers, Adrian, she gave him a dramatic snog worthy of an operatic performance penned by Andrew Lloyd Webber.
As the group whooped and cheered, Robert pulled me close and in a serious voice said, ‘You looked like you enjoyed that.’
‘You’re a phe-nom-enal kisser.’ I rolled my tongue as I spoke, trying to distract him from my lesbian tryst.
‘No. I’m talking about your other kiss.’ He pointed to my gal pal like she was the scene of a crime.
I pulled a serious face and told him, ‘Yes I did!’ He wasn’t my boss, and he certainly wasn’t going to give me grief on my birthday.
As I reached for my glass, my lesbian fantasy next to me noticed I was running low on champagne.
‘Let me fill you up,’ she smiled before grabbing a bottle of Laurent Perrier rosé from one of the two ice buckets between the tables and topping up my glass to the brim.
‘Cheers.’ I raised my glass in a toast.
‘My name is Lucy, by the way. Lucy Ormond,’ she replied. ‘In case you’d like to know.’
Just then a very boisterous Neil tapped me on the shoulder and stuck a bottle of peach schnapps in my mouth. ‘Another splash for not paying attention,’ he said.
Thankfully only a tiny drop fell from the bottle, as it was as much as I could stomach. I returned to flirting with Lucy. The coast was clear as Robert had since taken leave for the Men’s in a huff.
‘I’m Eva Valentine. It’s my birthday.’ I gave her a coy look as I spoke.
‘I know, I was a big fan of your column,’ she gushed. ‘And you know what else? Our initials spell LOVE. It’s an anagram, Lucy Ormond and Eva Valentine. Cool, huh?’
Gobsmacked, I just raised my glass again and clinked it against hers. ‘Pretty cool all right …’
When it was Lucy’s turn to pass the plastic to me again Robert was still lost in frustration somewhere else so I took full advantage of the freedom. Instead of sticking to the rules of the game – not that there were any formal rules – Lucy peeled the plastic off her Angelina Jolie lips, grasped the back of my head and pulled me in close for a deep kiss.
I didn’t restrain myself.
I felt like I was in a movie.
So there we sat in the middle of this large group of mutual friends kissing passionately.
I felt like a porn star.
As long as she was kissing me, I’d kiss her back, I thought. But then the group went quiet. And I couldn’t help but wonder why.
Pulling back our lips made a strange popping noise that made us both laugh and eased the awkwardness of the moment. As I looked up I realized all eyes were on us. But the fun had left the group. No one was laughing or joking any more.
Champagne Kisses Page 15