Free Fry by Lorna Dounaeva

glimpse of the ballroom, with its five piece orchestra and elegant tables laid for lobster and champagne.
    Then the taxi runs me half a mile up the road, coming to a halt outside Stu’s seedy bachelor pad. I am tempted to ask the driver to take me home again, but Stu’s spotted me from the window. He comes running out of the house.
    “Isabel! I knew you wouldn’t be able to resist a party!”
    The smell of cheap aftershave almost knocks me off my feet as he steps forward to hug me, pressing his sweaty body against me for slightly longer than is strictly necessary. He is wearing tight leather trousers with a revolting electric-blue shirt, unbuttoned practically to the waist to display his hairy tangerine chest to full effect.
    Against my better judgement, I follow him inside. There are a few curly sandwiches laid out but I’m not particularly hungry. I feel as though a ship has dropped anchor in my stomach. I accept a glass of eggnog despite the fact I’ve always hated the stuff, and swig it back in one determined gulp.
    Sonya is in the kitchen, wearing a snowman jumper, paired with a voluminous skirt, which does nothing for her figure. I make a note to myself to take her shopping for some decent clothes in the January sales.
    “Stu’s a real pig, isn’t he?” she says, by way of greeting.
    “I never doubted it.”
    I rifle though the cupboards.
    “What are you looking for?”
    “Drink.”
    “Try the fridge.”
    I open it, but there is nothing but row upon row of jellies.
    I find a spoon and taste one.
    “What’s in it?”
    “Vodka.”
    We fight our way back into the living room, armed with jelly shots. The only people I recognise are the blokes from the warehouse. They sit in a dark damp corner, surrounded by beer cans, making the same lude jokes they do at work.
    Sonya is telling me how Stu screwed up her computer, but I’m not really listening. My treacherous mind drifts back to the ball and I picture Deacon dancing with Alicia, her delicate arms wrapped around his neck. Why can’t he see through her? He’s a doctor for goodness’ sake – he’s supposed to be clever.
    When I can’t take it any longer, I pull out my mobile and dial Kate’s number.
    The phone goes straight through to voicemail. 
    Oh well, it’s probably for the best. I don’t want her to think I’m checking up on them.
    “Wanna dance?” Stu looms over me, trying to look sexy.
    “Um, no thanks.”
    “Oh come on, it’s Phil Collins.”
    With the most impeccable timing, my phone starts to ring.
    “Sorry, I have to get this.”
    I turn my back on him. “Kate? Call you? Er, no – I must have been butt dialling.”
    I’m a terrible liar – I don’t know why I even try.
    “So are you having a good time?” I ask, trying to keep my tone casual.
    “Yeah - you won’t believe this but Lenny Lopez is sitting at our table!”
    “What? Didn’t he used to be on Neighbours?”
    “Yup – apparently his sister works at the hospital. Anyway, I got him to autograph my napkin for you.”
    “Thanks.”
    But really, what good is a signed napkin? This is just so unfair. If it weren’t for Alicia, I would be meeting Lenny for myself.
    “So how’s your party?”
    “Great,” I lie. “You wouldn’t believe the cocktails.” I glance down at the tray of quivering jelly shots and shudder. “So, er..What about Deacon and Alicia? Are they having fun?”
    “Oh, they’ve been on the dance floor for ages! You know how Alicia loves to dance.”
    I didn’t, but I suppose I don’t really know much about her at all.
    “So how’s it going between them?” I hate myself for asking.
    “Great. I mean, they seem to be getting on well. You don’t mind do you?”
    “Mind? Why would I mind?”
    “Well, you know, you and Deacon have always been close.”
    “Oh, don’t be silly! I was just curious, that’s all.”
    “OK.”
    “Really. Now I’m going to get back to my party. You have a great night!”
    “Yeah, you too.”
    I turn the