Page 29 of Mr Best Friend's Brother Grump

Once outside the door, I pause for a second to digest the surreal moment with Ingrid. The dress, although the same design in a different size, looks completely unrelated to the one I’m wearing, on the tall, thin blond model/ YouTube personality. Her body carried the folds and pleats of the fabric without showing her shape, unlike me, where my body was the main event. She wore her long straight hair down and had accessorized with cowboy-inspired snake-skin ankle boots and black gothic-themed necklaces. She looked amazing, but her styling made the dress look totally different. And I was pleased with the way it looked on me when we were standing side by side in front of the mirror.

Shoulders back and beaming confidence, I walk back to where Alfie is chatting to Nathan in the bar area, which has filled with stylish media people.

“Everything alright?” asks Alfie, handing me a tall glass fizzing with bubbles. Nathan smiles at me as if we share a secret.

“Couldn’t be better,” I reply, lifting my glass. “Here’s to winning… Cheers.”

An efficient-looking man tells us to please move into the auditorium as the award ceremony is about to begin.

Chapter 24

Nathan

The awards were, as expected, a mix of predictably obvious and off-the-wall curve balls. I was more than happy with my award for Artistic Expression, which focused on the art installation of black and whites at the One Two One Gallery. The judges said the standard of entries for this category made their job almost impossible. But there was an outright winner who showed that photography can be more than a two-dimensional experience and that this photographer continues to push the boundaries of the medium. When my name was called, I was genuinely surprised and delighted.

It takes me a few moments to gather myself and walk to the podium amid thunderous applause. As I blink in the cone of the spotlight, obscuring the sea of faces, I accept the Big Apple trophy from the chief judge and spokesperson of this category, who shakes my hand and says something to me that I don’t hear. Eventually, the noise dies down. I take a moment to center myself. Clicks and camera flashes fill the expectant hush in the auditorium. I unfold a piece of paper: a short speech, just in case.

“I’m a bit overwhelmed,” I begin, which causes a ripple of laughter. I mention the people who have supported me over the years. It’s been a slow and steady journey to this point. “I’m definitely a tortoise and not a hare.” I wait for the crowd to settle before continuing. “… And thank you, fellow members of the media industry for continuing to place New York front and center on the world stage.” I look at the etched plastic hexagon bearing my name. A surge of emotion threatens to hijack my speech, so I wrap up quickly. “I have a great job and I’m so proud to be a part of this community. Thank you.”

People stop me to shake my hand and pat me on the back, as I make my way back to the table and my seat in between Alfie and Rosa. Alfie stands to hug me and Rosa’s eyes glint with gleeful happiness.

“Phew, that was intense,” I manage to say after a minute or two, although I’m still overwhelmed.

Alfie missed out on the categories for individual journalism, but the New York Times Magazine scooped up three. He excuses himself and leaves our table to congratulate his colleagues on their collective success. You can see he is as proud as Punch. Rosa and I are alone together: a quiet island in a sea of jubilation, as whooping and yelling media people mingle and celebrate noisily around us.

“What a wonderful night,” Rosa says, barely audible above the din. She looks around at the prize winners and their friends. “I had no idea that tonight would be this big… I feel as if I’m an imposter, a gatecrasher… With no business being here at all.”

“What do you mean? It was your article that inspired Alfie to write his piece, so you absolutely should be here…” I sit close to Rosa, in a bid to be heard. “And I’m so pleased that you are.” A fresh wave of noise and cheers washes over us as the final award is handed out. Excitement fills the air. After a few minutes, I say, “Would you like a change of scene? …Go somewhere else, perhaps?”

“Yes. That would be… nice. I’d like that. But…” Rosa’s gaze seeks out Alfie, who is in a knot of journalist mates all talking at once. “… we should go get Alfie.”

We stand to leave, and I catch Alfie’s eye. He comes over still laughing and sweaty. He mops his brow with a handkerchief.

“Not leaving already, are you?” Alfie says waving over to the mob he’s been talking with. He steadies himself on the back of a chair. “There are free drinks at the bar. Come on. Let’s go party!”

“Alfie, I think I’d like to go now,” says Rosa, gently. Her voice is almost lost.

“What?... Why?... The night’s just getting started.” Alfie says. His face plummets to the floor with disappointment. “Okay, then. Give me a minute. I’ll just say good night to the team.”

“No. You stay,” says Rosa. “You’re having a great time and you have something to celebrate, so…”

“Nah! Nah,” Alfie protests, reaching a hand out to Rosa. “I’ll make sure you get home safe.”

“Alfie,” I interject quietly. “I’ll make sure Rosa gets a cab. Don’t worry… Go and enjoy yourself. You deserve it.”

Alfie stops still. Something has dawned on him and he’s looking from me to Rosa and back again. He puts his arm around me and pulls me to one side.

“Give me one minute, Rosa,” Alfie says over his shoulder. “Do you mind? I’ll be one minute.” Then he turns his face to me and leans in close. “Nathan,” he says directly to my ear. “I have a question for you.”

“Sure. Okay. Fire away.”

“How long have you been in love with Rosa?”

“Ahhh, is it that obvious?”

“Yes. It’s glaring like an arc lamp, Nate.” Alfie hiccups and repositions himself in front of me. He holds my shoulders and looks at me with bleary serious intent. “I’m not going to stand in your way, hic, in case you were wondering… hic, I know she’s out of my league, hic.” He looks back at Rosa and jovially waves at her. She waves back. “And, hic, she is totally into you.” I open my mouth to refute his observation, but he stops my words with an authoritative forefinger. “So, my friend, if you don’t make your move tonight, hic, you are probably going to risk losing that wonderful woman, hic.” Alfie’s face crumples into a cry. He slaps my chest so hard it almost hurts. “Nate. Ol’ buddy, hic, ol’ pal,” he says, as he buries his face into my shirt, releasing a sob and a whine. Regaining his dignity, somewhat, he pats my chest again, steps back, and takes a full deep breath, swaying slightly from side to side. His hand darts up in a military-style salute. Alfie nods to me then walks over to Rosa where he grabs her in a bear hug, before disappearing into the crowd of revelers.

“Shall we?” I say, offering Rosa my arm.

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