Page 46 of Going Solo

“Sunny used to work forThe Bulletin,” Nick reminded me. How could I forget? Reporters fromThe Bulletinhad been hounding me for a decade. So, when your best friend’s boyfriend’s best friend works for your tormentor, you tend to remember it. Not that Sunny had ever been on the hound-Toby-until-he-cracks beat. And he worked for the BBC now, anyway. As I reached for the antiseptic, I noticed Ludo typing a text into his phone.

“You can either pretend to be on an important call,” Sunny said, “and keep marching through, completely ignoring the press pack. Or, better yet, you can smile and be friendly and apologetic, in a sorry-I-have-to-take-this kind of way. But whatever you do, keep on walking until you get into your car or whatever. Then speed off.”

The antiseptic stung my palms. “They’re all on mopeds. They follow you.”

“Most of the time they just want their pics so they can make their money,” Sunny said. “Give them something to photograph and they’ll go away.”

“Like what?”

“I mean, if you’re a woman in a skirt, you might get into the car at a slightly risqué angle.”

“Helpful. Thanks.”

“Lift your T-shirt to scratch at your washboard stomach,” Sunny said. “You can do anything. Be inventive. It has to be something they can write up, which is why ‘accidentally sexy’ is always a good option. You want it to be proper gossip fodder but still spin positively, so you don’t hurt your brand. Worst-case scenario, go for relatable and goofy. Pretend to trip over your feet and laugh at your own clumsiness when you hit the deck. Something like that.”

Sandy appeared at the end of the table again with a face like thunder. She leaned over to Ludo. “Which one is it, my dear?”

Ludo pointed, discreetly, and I turned my head to try to see what he was pointing at. “Shaved head.”

“With the moustache and pink neck kerchief?”

Ludo nodded.

“Right you are, my darling.” Sandy was off again.

“What’s going on?” I asked.

Ludo put his elbows on the table and leaned forward. The four of us bent towards him like flowers towards the sun.

“The guy in the pink hanky was taking photographs.”

“Of us?” Dav said.

“Of me?” I asked.

“I’m pretty certain you were the target, yeah,” Ludo said.

There was a kerfuffle behind us as a group of drunk homosexuals was unceremoniously hauled from their table by a variety of staff members, including Sandy—who, it turned out, had a remarkably powerful full nelson.

“This is beautiful to watch,” Dav said.

“Absolutely,” Sunny added. “Drag queens doing what nature intended, keeping the gays in line.”

“Isn’t nature spectacular?”

“Notice how the female impersonator drags the sad little piece of shit towards the exit,” Sunny said, mimicking David Attenborough’s hushed, authoritative tones. “She is confident. She is strong. She is in six-inch bloody heels. He is powerless against her.”

Dav joined in. “When she has finished playing with him, she will eat him. Then shit him out. And so, the circle of life is complete.”

The boys laughed at themselves, and as the bell on Miss Timmy’s door tinkled, announcing the eviction of my pursuer and his friends, the entire restaurant erupted into whoops of applause. Sandy reappeared at the end of the table, barely a sequin out of place.

“Sorry about that, boys,” she said. “He took a few pictures, but they weren’t much chop, and he hadn’t posted them anywhere. I made him delete them, and he and his mates have all been barred for six months.” She waved a perfectly manicured hand over the table. “And it’s all on us today, OK? Order anything you like. But don’t overdo it, because my OnlyFans is tanking, and if this place closes down, I’m all out of options.”

She winked, and before I could thank her, she’d spun on her heel and was gone. I turned to Ludo. “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.”

As I brought my champagne glass to my lips, I realised my hands were shaking.

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