Page 61 of Beautiful Losers

‘Seriously,’ I say. ‘I’m feeling too delicate to be teased. What happened after we got back here? Last thing Iremember is Leonard telling us something about Kirstie Alley being his childhood babysitter?’

‘That one might actually be true. Like our fantastic and fantastical friend, I believe Kirstie was also a Wichita native.’

He raises his head and plumps his pillow. The movement stirs up the smell of old sweat and clean bedlinen.

‘It was all very civilised,’ he says. ‘After putting Ari to bed, you insisted everyone stay for a nightcap. We discussed Donald Trump and inheritance tax. You said the former should be locked up and the latter set at 100 per cent. You then demanded I play Biggie’s ‘Hypnotize’, which was accompanied by quite the creative dance.’

‘Argggh!’ I say, raising the sheet to cover my face.

‘You also told me we were scar twins and showed me the mark on your left thigh from the time you got caught in a barbed wire fence. If memory serves me correctly, you were fleeing from the irate owner of a backyard donkey you were attempting to liberate.’

‘He was tied up to a lamppost all day long and had a really sad look on his face,’ I say, sheepishly.

‘At some stage, you decided that the party was over and marched me to my room.’

‘And then?’

‘And nothing. You passed out on the bed, I removed your shoes, you roused briefly to tell me I was hotter than the melting point of diamond.’

‘I wouldn’t get too excited. There are hotter things in the universe. The sun’s core, a lightning bolt, controlled nuclear fusion … You barely register on the heat scale.’

‘I have to admit,’ he continues, ‘it was a surprise to discover this wasn’t your first visit to my room.’

‘Well, no. Myriam and I take it in turns to make up your bed every day.’

‘And is rooting through the guests’ toiletries part of the service?’

‘I told you about that?’

I want to die. Death would be preferable to this moment.

‘I must say, you’re the most entertaining drunk I’ve met and I work in media. You encounter a lot of drunks.’

‘Stop talking! I can’t cope!’

Gently, he pulls the sheet away from my face, resting his hand above my chest and tracing my collarbone with his finger.

‘There’s nothing to be embarrassed about,’ he says softly. ‘I think you’re amazing.’

He brushes the hair back off my face and kisses me softly at first, and then more firmly, hungrily, and sweet baby Jesus and all the divine saints, I feel such a sense of transcendence, it’s enough to make me question my atheism.

My phone ringing brings me back to Earth.

‘Leave it,’ Jack mutters, his lips on my neck. ‘It’s Saturday. There’s no school. Myriam said she’d get up with Ari.’

I need no convincing. I can’t remember the last time I was this turned on. Can you die from arousal? Yes you can! Wasn’t there a woman who had a cardiac arrest while masturbating? It must have been some vibrator. Okay, Fiadh, focus. Enjoy the moment.

Man, this caller is persistent. I pull away from Jack.

‘Sorry, that ringing is doing my head in. Let me switch my phone off.’

The ringing stops. Where were we? Ah yes, Jack’s mouth moving further down my chest …

The ringing starts up again. This time, it’s Jack’s phone.

‘Oh for Christ’s sake,’ he says, pressing his forehead against mine.

‘Do you think it’s the same person?’ I say. A feeling of uncertainty creeps over me. A sense of impending doom, like the arse is about to fall out of the world.

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