Page 101 of A Night with Damien Spur

‘Of course, sir. Where are you sitting?’

‘I’m staying here. Don’t you know it’s bad manners to interrupt a performance? You stand at the back and wait till it’s over.’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Well, what do you think?’

‘About what, sir?’

‘The couple dancing.’

The waiter paused. ‘I think they look in love,’ he said.

‘What the fuck? I didn’t ask you that. He’s the matador and she’s the bloody cape. I was asking you whether you thought they caught the spirit of the dance. The story. You’re from Spain, aren’t you?’

‘Yes, I’m from Cordoba.’

‘Well then, surely you should know the paso doble.’

‘Yes, but… I didn’t understand what you meant. I just think they look hot for each other.’

‘Do me a favour. Undo the button at the back of my neck.’

‘Sir…’

‘Do you want me to have a heart attack? Okay, okay, leave it.’ He tugged at the jabot and pulled it apart. ‘Anyway. Here’s the question. Do you know what’s missing?’ Damien crossed his arms, his flushed face dripping with sweat.

‘Where?’

‘In the dance, you fool. You don’t know shit. The bull… the bull. That’s what’s missing.’ The waiter drew breath to speak, but Damien pushed past him. ‘I’ve had it. Fuck the glass of wine.’

He made a swift beeline to the nearest table of guests. ‘Good evening,’ he said. ‘I apologise for the interruption, but do you have a couple of spare forks?’

‘That’s a strange request,’ said a woman with spiky blonde hair and large breasts.

Damien glanced beside her plate. ‘Look, here’s one. You only need to eat ice cream with a spoon, so there’s no problem.’ He took her fork, and scanned the table. ‘And I’ll take this one.’ He plucked another resting next to a piece of chocolate cake.

‘I haven’t finished yet,’ said a plump woman with a tiny mouth and curly dark hair.

‘Well, if I were you,’ Damien replied, ‘I would have chosen the strawberries instead.’

He blew her a kiss and swivelled round to address the other astonished guests.

‘These are my horns.’ He placed a fork on each side of his head, puffed out his chest and charged, deftly weaving his way through the tables to the edge of the dance floor.

Don’t,the Voice said.You crazy fool. No point in going any further. The bull alwaysloses.

‘Not me – you’ll see,’ Damien shouted.

Sophie, who had left her table to help her drunken mother find a cab, returned just in time to see Damien’s extraordinary behaviour.

‘What are you doing? Where have you been? You look terrible,’ she said.

He turned to her and wiggled the forks. ‘I’m feeling horny.’

‘Please, Damien, let me take you home. You’re not well. Your eyes, they’re so red! And you’re shaking. Please, let mehelp you.’ Sophie took his arm.

‘Leave me alone,’ he said, and pushed her aside.

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