In her hotel room, she showered and did her makeup. It took several changes of outfit before she decided on her Ralph Lauren jersey style dress. She stood in front of the mirror, turned sideways and shook her hips. Satisfied with her reflection, she smoothed out a few wrinkles in the metallic material and strapped on a matching pair of heels.
She pulled her phone from her handbag and frowned when she saw she had three missed calls from Connie. The damn phone was still on silent. Connie had left a text message too, and Alice groaned aloud as she read. Arrgh!! Truly sorry. Emergency client issue. Suicidal. But shh!! Go ahead and eat without me. Will call as soon as able!! Sorry xx.
For a moment Alice thought she should change into her jeans and mope with room service and a bottle of wine, but her determination won out, and she sent a reply to Connie. Meet you in the bar at the Petri. Hurry if you want me sober!!
An hour later, Alice finished a delicate pan-fried turbot accompanied by caviar and potato with a restrained glass of Chablis. She surveyed the restaurant from her table in the corner, watching couples and business people. She avoided eye contact with the single men, lest they consider it an invitation. As she drained her glass and signalled for the bill, she resolved not to take any crap from anyone. There had been several sneaky male glances in her direction already.
The bar was busy, and people occupied all the corner tables. She headed towards a vacant four seat table, and as she passed a middle-aged man reading a newspaper, he looked up and smiled at her, but she pretended not to notice and kept going. She sat with her back to the wall and draped her jacket a chair opposite her. A waiter took her order for a bottle of Chablis and two glasses and returned shortly after.
Alice swung her eyes around the bar and assessed the other customers. When she looked down to her glass, she surprised herself by letting a long breath out, as if unaware she had been holding it in. She took out her phone and checked it again for a text from Connie, but she had to assume that Connie was still dealing with her suicidal patient. It occurred to Alice that Connie could have her client committed to a suitable institution in a short time and then come to the Petri, but that thought sparked a guilty feeling. No, it was right that Connie’s suicidal patient’s welfare took preference over hers.
To occupy herself she tapped on her phone. The Twitter icon on her screen showed 47 notifications, but she swiped onto the next screen. She took a sip of wine and swiped back. 47 notifications? She went to nibble on her lip with her teeth but stopped. Connie said not to look. But that when I was in London. This is Copenhagen. One peek? She stared at the icon. It called to her. She took another sip of wine, then another, larger sip, that was more of a gulp.
She tapped the icon and read. Her eyes blinked at an increased rate. Her grip on the phone tightened. She forced herself to slow her breathing, alarmed at how the words cut through her resolve, palpable evidence as to just how flimsy her defences were. A guy with the username @StalkingAlice had posted several tweets. He, too, had put her real name alongside the now familiar hash tag of #ChampagneTerrorist and new tags of #guiltybitch and #AliceMadsenGuiltyBitch. Worse, people agreed with him and were including #lockherup in some. It was clear many thought she was guilty even though the police released her.
Alice kept reading despite Connie’s words thundering in her head. She brought her hand to her mouth and bit the skin on her knuckle as she scrolled through the #champagneterrorist tweets. Several tweets supported her, but the majority didn’t.
Has #champagneterrorist @TVGirlAlice been fired from her new show yet? Please update #lockherup #guiltybitch
#guiltybitch #alicemadsen needs to be raped with my throbbing cock #champagneterrorist
the #champagneterrorist girl from #SthKensington no longer a suspect #innocent.
Someone should drive van over #champagneterrorist #alicemadsen and kill her too #guiltybitch
#champagneterrorist looks hot!! I will fuck #alicemadsen before I #lockherup #guiltybitch
Hey! @TVGirlAlice is no longer the #champagneterrorist then? #eggonface.
#champagneterrorist innocent? Who cares? Guilty of something. Else wouldnt of been arrested!!!
She aint hot bro. She ugly slut #champagneterrorist #alicemadsen
LOL #alicemadsen will NEVER work in TV again after this!!! #lockherup #champagneterrorist
@TVGirlAlice Fuck off back to mecca u cunt! #champagneterrorist
She dropped her hand and stared at the phone with her mouth agape. Her feed flashed with a new tweet alert and she scrolled back to the top. @StalkingAlice had posted again.
Gonna slut choke #guiltybitch #alicemadsen and RAPE her til she cums #champagneterrorist
It was like he was talking to her. As if he could see her. It seemed all too real. Then someone replied.
@StalkingAlice U do it bro!! #guiltybitch @TVGirlAlice deserves ur cock!! LOLOLOL #champagneterrorist
She set the phone down on the table with a loud clunk that made people nearby look up. Her hands shook so much she was reluctant to lift her glass for fear it would spill. She tried to tell herself that Twitter wasn’t real. Then she beat herself up for ignoring Connie’s words. Why did she look? Would they really come after her? Were those idle threats? Or just keyboard warriors taking delight in terrorising women?
Alice grabbed the edge of the table and took several deep breaths. The man at the next table leaned over. “Are you okay?”
She nodded. “Y… Yes.”
“Sure?”
She waved a dismissive hand at him and he returned to his companion. She swallowed hard and flexed
