When I emerge from the bathroom, the foyer is busy with people but Jake is there, coming to meet me.
“Do you think I could get back to the penthouse please?”
He shakes his head firmly. “No can do, only when Mr Stone says. He also requests you get back to your seat.”
Hollowed by the events, and in borrowed finery, missing my dignity and underwear, I am guided by Jake back to my seat. Matthew’s is empty and so is most of the table, so I feign interest in the dessert menu. I track Jake, who is by the exit we just came through, and he’s watching me, like I realise he’s probably been doing all night. “Shit.” I reach into my clutch, find a tissue and wedge it into the corner of my eyes.
“There you are.” Matthew returns to his seat. “What’s the matter?”
“Nothing.”
He laughs. “Liar. But for now, shelve it; you can deal with it later.”
“You’re an asshole, do you know that?” I hiss.
He laughs again, before someone comes over to congratulate him on securing the painting and that he’s simply going to re-gift it back to the charity along with his cheque.
And then, to my utter horror, I see my dad and his blonde twenty something heading over. “Oh God...” I whisper, watching as he bumps into people, tables and nearly careens into a waiter laden with a drinks tray. The lights are still low, but people are watching, whispering and talking about his dishevelled appearance.
“Stone!” He barks approaching our table. “Stone!”
Matthew doesn’t bat an eye. He gets to his feet, and for some reason, so do I. “Daniel.” He says smoothly.
“You’re a little shit do you know that!” My dad is slurring his words and the blonde by his side giggles, hanging onto him in that really un-cool way. She’s got a fancy necklace on that I know to be real diamonds as it’s the exact same one he gave to me this Christmas...but I’d left it at his house when I’d left.
“Daniel, it’s just a little painting.” Matthew stands firm, before making a great show of wrapping his arm around my waist bringing me tight against him.
“And you...” My dad focuses to me.
“Dad...”
His laugh is a really hollow, awful sound. “You’re such an ungrateful little bitch do you know that?” The barb hits home hard. “Shacking up with this guy, who is such a sore loser.”
“Dad, I think you should-”
He waves his hands, knocking over one of the vases in the middle of the table, which tips over, sloshing water to the carpeted floor; I grab it and get it upright. “This guy has no guts for business. So what if I got the better deal, you just need to man up and deal with it.”
It happens so fast, that I’m almost stunned that my reflexes match Matthew’s as I grab his arm before he can land a punch on my dad’s jaw. “You need to go home dad. Please.”
Something dark crosses his eyes. “And you.” He points. “I’m so fucking glad that you’re not mine, you’re such an ungrateful little bitch.” He sways worryingly, making the reed thin blonde work hard at keeping him upright.
“What...” I murmur.
“You heard me.” He wheezes.
It’s my turn to sway. “What are you saying?”
“Why don’t you ask your cheating whore of a mother.” He sighs with exaggerated force. “I’ve been waiting years to get that off my chest!”
Jake, presumably at Matthew’s gesture, is suddenly there, grabbing my dad by the arm and shoulder and manoeuvring him out of the ballroom. The drama isn’t that contained and hushed voices breakout and rather than looking at Matthew...everyone is looking at me.
Matthew has to hold my hair back as I puke in the alleyway adjacent to the hotel. When there is nothing more to expel, I get his tuxedo jacket around my shoulders and then we aim for the car. Jake hands a water bottle to Matthew, who uncaps it, and offers it to me. I take it, drink some, my throat burning.
“Are you alright?”
“I need to speak with my mom.”
“I can arrange that.”
“Okay.” I sit in a numb shock, hearing the engine start. “Okay.” And I say nothing more until we get back to the penthouse.
The call with my mother doesn’t go as expected. The minute I repeat what my father says, the line goes dead. When I redial, wondering if it had been a bad connection, it’s her partner that answers. He doesn’t make sense, just something about my mom unable to come to the phone. “Kenneth, I need to speak to my mom.” I hear something, like when the speaker is muffled by a hand, as I can roughly make out my mother’s hysterical tones. My heart falls. And this time, I hang up.
There is a soft knock to my door. I face Matthew. He’s traded his suit for sweats. I’m still in that dress and ache to strip it off me and bin it. I’d ripped off the heels when we’d arrived at the penthouse and I think they were by the front door.
“Did you speak to Veronica?”
I’m hurt that he knows my mother’s name, even though I had never mentioned it. “The call connected, we spoke, then...then she hung up and now I can’t get
