Champagne Secrets

by Amanda Brunker

  The blondes kept me busy for the rest of the night by ordering each drink one at a time. It seemed that whenever I returned to the table with one bottle of champagne, or one Smirnoff and slimline tonic, another blonde would ask me to go back to the bar again. Even though they treated me like I was an insignificant skivvy, Trappim kept his eye on me the whole time, an experience which by 4.30 a.m. had become exhausting.

  I escaped to the toilet for a quick break and to check out just how shattered I looked, and when I returned to the corridor the white prince caught me off guard. Backing me into a corner, he stood strong and silent in front of me, his now somewhat drunken eyes scanning every inch of my body. Fearing that he might discover my hidden camera in my headpiece – after all, the disguise was just a flimsy black flower pinned over my almost matted, backcombed hair – I did my best to keep things light. ‘Lose your bearings, Mr Trappim? I think your ladies are back that way.’

  ‘I like blondes,’ he declared, slightly slurring.

  ‘Really? I never would have guessed. Ehhh, sorry, excuse me, can I get past you, please?’ I smiled, but was unsuccessful in trying to push my way back towards the bar.

  Holding his ground, he replied, ‘You’ve a lovely aura about you. I need to party with you tonight, girl.’ All I could do was laugh tensely.

  As I fretted that he might feel compelled to lift his walking stick and use it to penetrate me right there in the corridor, my prayers for help were suddenly answered when Tanya Cruze appeared out of nowhere screaming, ‘Trappim, where have you been hiding? Mommy needs some happy pills.’ Remembering me from the night before, she acknowledged me with a half-smile before throwing her arms around my captor and demanding his undivided attention. Although it was evident that he was annoyed at the interruption, she chose to ignore this and continued begging for drugs. ‘Come on, baby. I need to keep the party going. Tell me you can help me out. You’re my last hope.’ Pandering to her demands, he reached inside his trench coat to an inner pocket and pulled out a gilded silver box that was full of different-coloured pills, paper wraps and small cellophane bags of what looked like cocaine. Although I desperately wanted to get away, I knew this moment was documentary gold, so I kept quiet and pretended to look at the floor in order for my camera to pan down towards his hands. Screaming with delight, Tanya made no effort to be subtle and jumped up and down excitedly. ‘Gimme gimme gimme,’ she whooped, while stretching her slender hand towards the box.

  Angry with her impatience, he snapped the lid back and told her, ‘Get some respect.’ Obediently, she pulled back her hand, but still continued to bounce with anticipation. Looking back at me, Trappim coldly asked, ‘Do you think if I throw my stick she’ll go run after it?’ But all Tanya did was start laughing like a horse and pretend to slap him across his chest. Glaring at her until she steadied herself, Trappim then slowly opened his pill box once again and picked two white ones out, before replacing it back inside his coat. ‘OK, Irish, stick out your tongue.’ His eyes widened as he made his demand. Feeling the heat once more, I weakly tried to refuse, but he didn’t seem to want to take no for an answer. ‘I said, stick out your tongue …’

  ‘Just do it,’ interrupted Tanya, all agitated. ‘It’s good stuff.’

  Looking at Tanya, and then back at Trappim, it was obvious that I wasn’t going to worm my way out of this situation without causing a scene. Reassuring myself that I could put it in my mouth and then hide it inside my cheek, I accepted with a casual remark of, ‘OK then,’ and slid my tongue out for both of them to see. As Trappim placed the pill on to it a nasty bitter flavour shocked my taste buds, so I quickly closed my mouth, pretended to swallow and then lodged the pill under my tongue for safe keeping.

  I licked my lips to indicate that I had complied with his wishes, and he turned to Tanya, who was now shivering with the excitement, and simply handed her the other pill, saying, ‘You’re such a dumb fuck. Now get out of my space.’ Happy with her lot, Tanya waved goodbye, and once more Trappim had me – well – trapped!

  ‘So is this how you earned your name?’ I asked in all seriousness.

  ‘What you talking about?’

  ‘This, here.’ I waved my finger, pointing out the minuscule distance between him and myself. ‘Is this a normal move, for you to trap ’em – trap the ladies?’

  Pulling himself up straight, he stretched to elongate his height and explained, ‘It’s a music thing. I’m known for collecting the best rappers, the best crew, the best … I don’t need to explain myself to you. I don’t need to trap no woman. I’ve got a football team of them out there that are all waiting for me to take them home.’

  Feeling like I had him on the back foot I decided to push him further, and asked, ‘So what’s stopping you? I’m not.’ And then I coughed into my hand to transfer the tablet, which felt like it was disintegrating in my mouth.

  None too impressed at getting the brush off, Trappim thought for a moment before returning to his previous snarling manner, and grunted, ‘Now that I see you in the light, I realize you’re not that pretty. And definitely nowhere close to my standard.’

  Trying to stifle a laugh, I asked, ‘Really?’

  ‘Yeah,’ he confirmed, while nodding his head. ‘And whatever look you were going for here,’ he circled his free hand around my hair, ‘you’ve missed the mark completely.’ Feeling like he had done the dumping, Trappim slouched back off out the corridor towards his tables and declared, ‘Get my fucking bill. This place stinks.’

  Gathering my composure, I took a couple of minutes before stepping back out to the floor, and thankfully when I did the majority of people had already been ushered out by the bouncers. Heading straight to Rosa, who had Trappim’s bill ready and waiting for me, I could see that she was tempted to ask if everything was OK, before thinking better of it. Glancing down at the bill, I saw that it totalled £2,385 for all their drink, with a tiny line running underneath it that said, ‘No Service Included.’ Figuring that I didn’t stand a chance in hell of getting a tip, I decided to go for broke and place the remains of the tablet he gave me on the tray with his bill. It was mashed and slimy, though you could still see with painful obviousness what it was. Mustering all the courage I could, I strode over to him and presented him with the bill. Praying that my camera was still filming, I spoke extra-clearly, announcing, ‘Your bill and your pill. Drugs aren’t my style, so I would like you to have it back.’

  The anger was instantly visible across his face. His precious male ego clearly dented, he loudly asked, ‘Which of you bitches am I taking home tonight?’

  A couple of them replied, ‘All of us, Trap!’ before collapsing into whoops of laughter. Determined to throw his weight around, he then flicked a black American Express card on to the tray and signalled for me to leave. Losing my bottle to return and see him sign it, I asked Kris if she’d do the honours – and fled for the relative safety of the locker room.

  Terrified at the prospect of being caught doing another piece to camera, I took my bag out of my locker, grabbed my coat and hesitantly started to make my way back out to the floor. By the time I got there, the lights were up full, the music was off and everyone had left except for the staff sipping cocktails and beers at the bar. ‘So what happened with Trappim?’ Kris asked curiously, as she signalled the others to stop their conversation and listen.

  Aware that I had the eyes of the A Team on me, I casually laughed, ‘Nothing, why?’ But it was obvious that none of them, especially Kris, bought it.

  ‘Well, he told me to give you this.’ She handed me £200. ‘And told me to tell you thanks for the BJ.’ As if on cue, the gang at the bar fell about the place laughing.

  Mortified, I stuffed the money in my bag and said, ‘I never went near him!’ But all they could do was laugh. Not having the energy to protest my innocence, I offered a group wave and told them all to enjoy their drinks. With the sky already starting to get light, I felt blessed that there were still several cabs waiting outside Sir Charlie’s,
so I jumped into the back of the first, and with ample cash in my pocket asked the driver to take me the whole way home.

  It must have been 3 p.m. before I woke up later that day, with the mother of all hangovers thumping in my head. After a range of weird nightmares – from being trampled by polar bears to being scratched and bitten by cats – I was sure that some of that pill I had put in my mouth had been absorbed into my system.

  Still in my pyjamas, I slunk down the stairs into the living room to find all the kids and Maura staring out the back patio windows – at snow! ‘Good afternoon, Auntie Eva,’ called Maura. ‘Good to see you’re still alive.’

  I barely got a few grunts from Maura’s kids, who were too distracted by what was happening outside, but as I lifted Daisy up off the floor she gave me the biggest smile and the loudest, ‘Mam-may’, and the horror of my dreams started to slip away.

  In bad need of a shot of caffeine, I walked towards the kitchen, bouncing Daisy on my hip, and asked Maura if there was anything that I could do to help around the house. ‘I’m off the next couple of nights now, so use and abuse me. All I have to do is go into the office tomorrow.’

  ‘Good stuff. Cause in case you’ve forgotten, your dad is here tonight for his trade fair.’

  Maura looked at me, and I could feel my face drain of the little colour it had. ‘Is that tonight? Ah, crap. The idea of drink is making me feel weak.’

  ‘Ha! Ha! I’ve spoken to him already, and he’s on super form. He says that crabby ol’ sister-in-law of mine was moaning at him this morning to check that I’ve been looking after yourself and Daisy properly. She thinks I won’t have been feeding you right.’

  ‘As if!’ I chuckled back.

  That night we tucked into Maura’s homecooked beef and Guinness pie prepared with, as she herself boasted, ‘Actual homemade pastry, none of that shop-bought stuff.’ And we reminisced about old times back in Dublin when my dad wore flares and Maura wore extremely short miniskirts. Several bottles of vino later, Maura and I were sitting at the front window watching the snow falling through the beams of the street lights, while Dad and John talked sporting greats and agreed that Pelé would have been no match for Keano.

  Having restrained myself all evening, it was only a matter of time before I brought up the subject of Rory. We had been in constant contact since our last date, but the physical separation was killing me. ‘I can’t believe it’s snowing,’ I mused, building up to my boy talk. ‘It looks so romantic. I’d love a snog right now.’

  Giving me a big-sister hug, Maura then did her best to wind me up. ‘I’ll snog ya if you like. I’ve been told I’m quite good at it.’

  Pretending to shrug her off, I chuckled, ‘You’re all right thanks. I was more thinking along the lines of Rory.’

  ‘So call him,’ suggested Maura, matter-of-factly. ‘Call him now and invite him over.’

  ‘But how can I? He thinks my name is Alice, for Christ’s sake. And he also doesn’t know about Daisy, who just happens to be sleeping upstairs.’

  ‘So?’

  ‘So … I can’t ask him over. It’ll only let the cat out of the bag.’

  ‘Oh, relax,’ bellowed Maura, topping up my wine glass. ‘We’ll all play ball. Sure, I’m dying to see him. Ring him now and see if he’ll come over. Go on. It’ll be a bit of craic.’

  ‘But what about my dad?’

  ‘Never mind him, he’s in his element. Here, hang on – Patsy, Eva here has a new fella on the go.’

  Temporarily lifting his head from his deep conversation with John, my dad asked, ‘And?’

  ‘Well, she wants to ask him over, but she has a problem. He thinks her name is Alice and, well, she doesn’t want to let him in on the secret tonight. So will you play along, Patsy?’

  Thinking for a moment, he ran through a couple of bizarre facial expressions before asking, ‘Just remind me before he comes, will ya?’ and then turned away from us again to resume his conversation with John.

  ‘There ya go.’ Maura smiled, all pleased with herself. ‘Nothing stopping ya. So go and call him. This gathering could do with a distraction.’

  Grabbing the bull by the horns, I picked up my phone and rang Rory before I could change my mind. His phone had barely rung twice when he lifted it up and said, ‘I was just thinking about you. I wish I could see you tonight.’

  In a giddy girlie voice I gushed back, ‘Well, hop in a cab and come see me then. That’s if you’re up for a challenge?’

  ‘What’s the challenge?’ His voice sounded cautious.

  Laughing with the nerves, I coughed a few times before explaining, ‘Well, I’m at a bit of a family gathering. Small family gathering. Just Maura, John and, well, my dad. Who’s half-cut at this stage, so he won’t be annoying ya.’ I paused for a moment, but heard nothing. ‘Well?’ I asked again, pressing the point.

  ‘Am I stepping into a minefield?’

  ‘Absolutely not. And while I know it’s bad weather outside, it’s extremely romantic too. And, well, I’d just really like to see ya.’

  ‘Do you promise not to be asleep with the drink by the time I get there?’

  ‘Promise.’

  ‘OK, then, I’ll hop in the shower, you text me the address, and I’ll see you and your gathering as soon as possible.’

  Melting with the thought of seeing him, all I could say was, ‘Thank you.’ Then I turned to Maura in a panic and asked, ‘What have I just done? He’s coming over now.’

  The next hour and a half was possibly the longest in history. I must have changed five times before I got that casual, not-trying-too-hard-but-effortlessly-sexy image working. I finally stepped back downstairs in one of my trademark off-the-shoulder slouchy tees, with a cute pink bra-strap exposed, just in time to hear the doorbell. To the sound of which there was a rapturous round of applause from Maura and John, and a worrying wink from my dad.

  ‘No one is to say anything about Daisy. SWEAR TO ME. And my name is Alice. OK? Now swear to me, please.’

  ‘OK, we swear,’ chimed the room, through coughs and giggles.

  Although I was terrified that one of the three would forget themselves and drop a clanger, the idea of Rory calling around was thrilling, because I needed my family to meet him properly and give him their seal of approval. As I stepped out to open the door, a rush of adrenaline surged through my body, making me skip with a mixture of joy and nerves. Preening one last time in front of the mirror in the hall, I put on a quick blot of lip-gloss and I was ready for my close-up. Then, as if posing for a curtain call, I carefully composed myself and on the count of ‘One, Two, Three’, I swung back the heavy bolts to find – no one. Looking out on to the empty road, there was nothing but pretty sheeting snow to greet me. As lovely as the scene was to look at, it would have been far nicer with Rory in it, and the disappointment I felt was huge, which went some way to indicating just how much I had begun to like this guy. I’d been so looking forward to seeing him and parading him off to the family that the let-down was almost unbearable.

  I snuck my nose around the corner of the door to see if there was any traffic around, and Rory suddenly jumped out from behind a bush, crying, ‘I got ya!’

  Despite being a shock, it was the most pleasant of surprises, and all I could reply with as he cradled me in his arms was, ‘Yes, you have.’

  Despite their taunts, Maura, John and Dad were on their best behaviour, apart from a couple of drunken jibes from Maura along the lines of, ‘So, is this your next husband?’ But all of them were ignored by me and, thankfully, Rory. Happy to drink whatever was going, Rory got stuck into playing catch-up, and before we knew where we were, John had pulled out an old, almost rusty-looking red-wine bottle with no label on it. ‘This is poteen, Rory,’ he explained, holding it up like it was an Academy Award. ‘This stuff separates the men from the boys. It’ll put hairs on your chest, it’ll—’

  ‘It’ll make you sick,’ interrupted Maura, cutting her husband down to size.

  Intrigued, Rory
leaned forward to get a better look at the bottle, and took it from John to have a smell. He barely had the cap off the bottle when he let out a huge yelp. ‘Fuck me!’ he cried, before realizing where he was, and apologizing for his language. ‘I’m sorry. I’ve heard of poteen, but what is it? An Irish version of arsenic?’

  ‘Sort of.’ Maura giggled. ‘It’s real liquor, brewed from potatoes.’

  ‘You mean spuds?’ asked Rory, in a put-on Oirish accent.

  Somewhat drunkenly, my dad then reached around Rory’s shoulders and in an uncharacteristic move kissed him on the cheek. ‘Indeed it is, sonny,’ said my dad, while shaking Rory’s shoulders in a best-pal sort of way. ‘Will you do me the honour of joining me in a shot?’

  Quickly winking in my direction to let me know he was enjoying himself, Rory gave my dad a hearty pat on the hand and smiled, ‘I would love to, surely.’

  To which my dad smiled back, and answered with one of his oldest gags, ‘I like you – but don’t call me Shirley.’

  Whether I wanted it or not, I was also handed a shot of poteen in a tacky glass that read, ‘You lick it – you own it!’ and told by my dad, ‘Down in one, there’s a good girl.’ Feeling like a contestant off I’m A Celebrity … Get Me Out of Here!, I had about as much interest in swallowing it as if he had offered me up some kangaroo balls. But my protests about having an early start the next day were simply not listened to. Despite being as quiet as a mouse when sober, I knew how cantankerous my dad could be with a few drinks on him, so I thought it best for an easy life all round to just drink my poteen and be done with it.

  So, as a group, we all clinked shot glasses, shared a giggle over Rory’s – which read, ‘What happens in my mouth – stays in my mouth!’ – and in a great bonding moment, knocked back our shots together and howled at the moon like a pack of wolves. That night we pushed back the furniture and danced around the dining room to possibly every hit Elvis ever made. I melted as Rory crooned his way through ‘Love Me Tender’, and laughed till it hurt as my dad tried his best to dislocate his replacement hip with his moves to ‘Jailhouse Rock’. It ended up being one of the most perfect nights I had had in a long time. Not only was it so great to see my dad let his hair down without fear of interference from my mother, but to see Rory blend in so well and just be utterly adorable was bliss. He was a total gentleman to Maura, and a man’s man with my dad and John, but he also made it his business to frequently touch my leg or arm, and knowingly give me a gentle squeeze to let me know he cared.