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‘Where did you come from?’ I ask, once I’ve been placed on my stool.
‘Heaven, princess.’ He flips me a wink, moving back so I get his full height in view. He looks perfectly casual in a pair of worn jeans and a white T-shirt. God, I could jump his sinfully sexy self.
‘Oh, that’s cute.’ Lucy interjects, throwing a wobbly fist into Becker’s bicep. ‘He’s a charmer.’
‘How are you, Lucy?’ Becker asks, running dubious eyes up and down her half-naked frame as he tosses a couple of twenties on the bar. ‘Whatever the girls are having,’ he says to the barman. ‘And I’ll have a Haig on the rocks.’
‘A-fucking-mazing,’ Lucy slurs, pointing her empty in the general direction of Mark’s group, who are now all huddled around a tall table doing shots. ‘My boyfriend is fucking amazing, too.’
Becker looks across to where Lucy is pointing, then to me on a frown. I shake my head. It’s a tell-ya-later look, and he catches it swiftly, handing me my wine.
‘You ready to settle your bill?’ the barman asks, obviously concluding that Lucy and I are well on our way to a drunken oblivion and will probably be stumbling home soon.
‘How much?’ Becker asks before I have the chance, going back to his pocket.
‘One hundred and sixty-eight.’
‘What?’ Becker looks at me in shock, eyeing up the drink he’s just placed in my hand, maybe considering confiscating it.
‘Eight mojitos at sixteen quid a pop. Plus the wine and your Haig.’ The barman slides the bill across the bar for confirmation, but Becker waves it away, throwing down a pile of notes.
‘You okay?’ he asks, now clearly concerned by the confirmation of how much alcohol has passed my lips.
‘I’m being supportive.’
‘By getting blind drunk?’
I shrug guiltily on an innocent smile. ‘I’m a good friend. And I feel fine. I think all the secrets I’m keeping are burning away the alcohol.’
He rolls his eyes as his tumbler of amber liquid rises slowly to his full lips, and my rapt stare journey with it. ‘Cheers,’ he says, tipping the neat whisky back. ‘What’s going on?’ Becker indicates across the bar to Mark. ‘Have they had an argument?’
I’m not worried that Lucy will notice us talking about her like she isn’t here. Because she isn’t. Not in mind, anyway. She’s gone full-force into glaring mode again. ‘That leggy blonde is what’s wrong.’ I discreetly nod at Melanie, prompting Becker to seek her out.
‘Whoa,’ he blurts out, resulting in a swift jab in the shoulder from me. ‘Sorry.’ He smiles nervously. ‘But she’s hardly unnoticeable with one tit hanging out.’
‘What?’ I throw my eyes past Becker. ‘Oh my days.’ He’s right. One boob has broken free from her low-cut dress and is jiggling happily while she throws a shot back. All eyes in the bar are on the girl from floor eighteen, except the men aren’t staring and licking their lips, despite it being a rather attractive boob. They’re looking embarrassed for her. She’s clearly steaming drunk, and when she throws herself at a very horrified-looking Mark, I know immediately that Lucy’s invisible daggers could, quite possibly, turn into very tangible ones. I see her leaving her stool like an eject button has been pressed. ‘Stop her,’ I shout, pushing Becker, who quickly cottons on and seizes the top of Lucy’s arm.
‘Hold your horses,’ he says calmly, pulling her back. ‘Mark’s doing a pretty good job of fighting her off himself.’
We all look and find Mark pushing Melanie away, an offended look on his face. ‘I’m cool,’ Lucy snaps, yanking herself free from Becker’s grip. Mark seems to be handling a steaming drunk Melanie perfectly, but she’s blotto and determined, and tosses an evil scowl in Lucy’s direction before she makes a beeline for him again, which confirms that she really is a nasty player. ‘Oh no she didn’t,’ Lucy laughs coldly, and is suddenly gone from Becker’s side. This time, he doesn’t catch her, and I can only watch as she flies across the bar like a rabid dog, frothing at the mouth.
‘Oh God, you have to stop her.’
‘For fuck’s sake,’ Becker grumbles, slamming his glass down and going in pursuit. I’m hot on his heels, fearing the worst. I can’t blame Lucy for snapping. She’s endured enough. Heck, I’ve endured enough.
Becker is fast as he swoops across the bar.
But Lucy is faster, and she’s apparently in no mood to handle the situation delicately. No, she goes in like a bull in a china shop, practically ripping Melanie off Mark and tackling her to the floor. They hit the deck with ease, alcohol assisting, and start rolling around like a pair of brawling men. I reach the inside of the circle that has naturally formed around their scrapping bodies and skid to a stop. I’m so stunned by the scene playing out in front of me, I just stand, watching . . . a bit like Mark, who’s next to me, his beer held limply in his hand as he gapes at the two women rolling around on the filthy floor.
