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Judy’s husband joins us, nodding politely but sharply. ‘Ready?’ he asks her.
‘Yes, but first let me introduce you to Theo’s Izzy.’ Judy pulls me down off the stool and more or less presents me to him, like she’s showcasing something with pride. ‘Isn’t she adorable? Izzy, this is my husband, Andy.’
‘Hi.’ I hold my hand out. ‘Nice to meet you, Andy.’ I’m sure I hear Judy sigh.
‘Pleasure, Izzy.’ Andy smiles warmly. ‘I’ve heard a lot about you.’
‘All good, I hope.’ I chuckle like a fool, mentally kicking myself. Such a cliché thing to say.
‘I’m sorry to hear about your current predicament,’ Andy says, not sounding very sorry at all.
Oh, great. Does everyone know? I refrain from blurting in my drunkenness that my predicament is the six-foot-five-inch son of his wife. ‘Thanks,’ I say tightly, lifting my drunken bones clumsily back on to my stool.
‘Come on, Judy. I’m starving and I have a dozen reports to file.’
‘Yes, yes,’ she pacifies him, taking my cheeks in her palms and squeezing. Her face turns serious, and I find myself sitting back a little, wary of what she’s going to say. ‘He can’t help it, Izzy. Be patient with him.’ She kisses my cheek and then leaves us, not giving me the chance to respond. Not that I would know what to say. Maybe he needs to start helping it before everything goes to shit.
Jess looks all gooey-eyed, while I’m feeling torn between maintaining my grievance and forgiving Theo for royally fucking up my career.
‘She’s so lovely.’ Jess sighs. ‘So motherly and loving.’
‘Or a lioness,’ I muse, imagining Judy turning into quite the formidable one herself should anyone cross her boy, no matter how big, dangerous, and capable of looking after himself he is. Judy lifts her hand in goodbye to Theo and Callum as she goes, and they both nod as an applause erupts. She looks across the club to the stage, and I follow her stare, seeing Penny thrusting her crotch in a patron’s face while his friends cheer her on. Judy’s lip is curled in disdain, and I recoil, interested. Oh, she really doesn’t like her. I barely have time to wonder why before Andy pulls his wife out of the club and I spot Theo and Callum wandering over, people clearing their path vigilantly.
Jess stiffens next to me. ‘Oh God, please don’t let me speak. If I try to speak, kick me. I’m drunk. I’ll only say something stupid and look like a twat.’
The expression of disbelief I aim at her isn’t noticed, because she’s staring down into her glass. ‘You’ve already made yourself look like a twat when you were sober. At least now you’ll have an excuse.’
‘Shut up. I can’t read him,’ she hisses at her wine. ‘It’s frustrating. Makes me behave out of the ordinary.’
I snort, most unladylike. ‘Whatever. He’s coming.’
‘Stop.’
‘He’s looking at you.’
‘I hate you.’
‘With take-me-to-bed eyes.’
Her head whips up, just as Theo and Callum come to a stop before us. Callum’s eyes aren’t take-me-to-bed eyes at all. They’re more like scrutinizing eyes. ‘Hi,’ Jess squeaks before throwing back more wine.
Callum watches, waiting until she’s downed the lot. ‘I’ll take you home,’ he says finally, and I grin, looking out the corner of my eye to see her increasing discomfort. I’m not sure what’s wrong with her. Alcohol usually makes her bolder, but she’s almost painfully awkward.
‘Jess.’ I nudge her when she makes no attempt to show her face. ‘Callum is ready to take you home.’
‘Okay.’ She slides her glass on to the bar and jumps down, kissing me quickly before grabbing her bag and scurrying away. ‘Speak tomorrow.’
Theo’s looking at his friend with a slightly lifted eyebrow, but Callum just shrugs, trudging on his way to catch up with Jess. ‘Take the rest of the night off,’ Theo calls, a wicked smile on his face.
I fall apart on the bar stool, watching my friend alternate between staggers and determined strides, until Callum is forced to help her out before she veers completely off course and lands in the Ladies’. ‘She’s steaming,’ I say with a chuckle, grinning into my glass as I sip.
Theo appears in my peripheral vision, and I turn towards him with my glass at my lips, finding him leaning against the bar, watching me. And I remember: I’m not talking to him.
I drop to my drunken feet, then spend a few moments concentrating on finding the stability I need to walk away with my dignity still intact. After a considerable amount of time, I give up and start my zigzagging meander across the club. I don’t need to worry about bumping into anyone. They’re all being rather helpful and moving from my path. ‘Thank you,’ I say politely to one man. ‘Good night,’ I say to another. ‘Thanks.’ I smile at a lady, who grins as she shifts out of my way. I feel more conspicuous than I’d like, everyone obviously concluding I need the space. Either that or they’re worried I might throw up on them.
