Robbie suddenly stops walking and looks down at Alice. He is frowning. “Lovable, huh? You could have fooled me. That’s not quite the impression I got when we were there.”
Alice laughs and pushes her body closer to Robbie’s. “Silly,” she says. “You obviously don’t understand me, then.”
Robbie doesn’t respond to Alice’s affection the way he usually does. Instead, he shakes his head in a gesture of irritation. “We’re here,” he says, unhooking his arm from Alice’s. He nods toward a bar that has the sign “Out of Africa” in front of it. “This is the place.”
He pulls open the door and steps aside so that Alice and I can go in ahead of him. I smile at him as I pass, and though his mouth curves upward the smile doesn’t reach his eyes. And I can tell by the stiff way he holds himself that he is upset or angry or both.
Inside it is very dark, lit only by small lamps on the walls and candles on the tables. It takes a moment for my eyes to adjust but when I do I see that the walls are a deep red and that there are brightly colored cushions on each of the chairs.
“I’ll go to the bar and get us some drinks,” Robbie says.
“What an excellent idea,” says Alice. “I’ll have a bottle of champagne.”
“A whole bottle?” Robbie stares at her. “Don’t you think that’s a bit—”
“No,” Alice interrupts. “I think it’s perfect. A bottle. Thank you.”
Robbie shakes his head and looks at me. “Katherine?”
“Lemon, lime, and soda, thanks.”
Alice rolls her eyes. “‘Lemon, lime, and soda, thanks.’” She imitates me in a high-pitched, mocking voice. “No alcohol for Miss Goody Two-shoes.”
“I can’t, Alice. I’m underage. I don’t have ID.”
“You don’t have to explain yourself, Katherine,” Robbie says. “I’m just going to have a soda. I’ve got soccer tomorrow. Alice can drink alone tonight.”
“Wow.” Alice sighs. “What a load of fun you two are. Lucky me.”
Robbie frowns down at her, his mouth set, his eyes cold, before turning away and heading toward the bar.
Alice watches him walk away. “I think he’s mad at me,” she says, shrugging. She looks around the room, staring openly at the other customers.
I turn to watch Robbie, who is standing at the bar, waiting for our drinks. He is staring straight ahead, his face blank. He looks miserable.
“What just happened?” I ask Alice. “Why is he suddenly so angry?”
“Oh, I think I reminded him of something when I talked about our ski trip. He got a bit upset when we were there. I spent some time with one of the ski instructors. Just one night. Robbie didn’t like it.”
“‘Some time’? ‘One night’? What do you mean?”
Alice doesn’t look at me. She is staring at a couple at a table to the side of us. “I mean exactly what I said.” She sighs and speaks in a clear, deliberate voice, as if I have difficulty hearing or understanding. “Just one night. With another man. In his room. I’m sure you don’t want the details. Robbie wasn’t happy. He seems to have some kind of misplaced proprietary feelings toward me.”
I’m so shocked by what Alice is admitting that I can think of nothing to say, and I sit there stupidly for a moment, my hand over my mouth. I knew that Alice had a fairly casual view of her relationship with Robbie, I knew that she was far less committed than he. But that she actually spent the night with another man while on a trip with Robbie is astounding. Either it was an act of deliberate cruelty or, just as shocking, it proved that Alice had some kind of bizarre inability to imagine how such behavior would affect Robbie.
Before I have the chance to gather my thoughts and make some kind of intelligent response, Alice jumps up from her seat and starts waving her arms.
“Ben!” she calls out as she leaves our table and approaches the couple that she’s been watching for the last few minutes. “Ben Dewberry! It is you. I thought I recognized you. I’ve been staring and staring, and then I heard your voice. I knew it was you, for sure, as soon as I heard you speak.”
Alice is so loud that there is a moment of silence in the bar as people stop talking to listen. Ben and the girl sitting opposite him—a tall girl with long, wild red hair and pale skin—stare at Alice as she approaches. Ben looks shocked, almost frightened.
“Alice.” He stands up and extends his hand as if to shake Alice’s, but she ignores it and steps close to embrace him. She kisses him, hard and for too long, on the lips. When she steps back, Ben’s cheeks are flushed and he looks uncertain and embarrassed. “Wow. What are you doing here?” He has an Australian accent.
“Having dinner, of course, silly. The same as you.” Alice takes hold of Ben’s hand and turns back to face our table just as Robbie arrives with the drinks. “Robbie, Katherine. This is Ben. Ben Dewberry, the first true love of my life.”
Ben looks over Alice’s shoulder at his companion and shrugs, starts to say something, but Alice, who has her back toward Ben’s friend, tugs on Ben’s arm.
“Come and sit with us,” she says. “Come on. We can all sit together.”
“Oh. I don’t think …” Ben looks at his friend. “Philippa and I …”
Alice spins on her heel and faces Philippa. “Hello there. I’m Alice.” She lets go of Ben and puts her arm out toward Philippa. They shake hands. Alice smiles and Philippa nods, smiles stiffly.
“You’ll come and join us, won’t you?” Alice says. “At least come over and sit with us for a while. Ben and I haven’t seen each other for years. We’ve got a lot of catching up to do.”
Philippa and Ben agree to join us, and as they gather their things, Robbie looks at me, his expression one of irritation and disbelief, and rolls his eyes. The waitress helps us pull a table over and join it to ours to make enough room for the five of us.
Except for Alice, who seems oblivious to everyone else’s discomfort and chats away happily, we are all very quiet and awkward as we sip our drinks. Alice talks about the summer when she went out with Ben. Ben seems uncomfortable and embarrassed, and smiles at Philippa apologetically every time Alice mentions how much she enjoyed having an Australian boyfriend and how she used to love listening to his accent.
“Let’s order some food,” Alice says suddenly. “I’m dying of starvation. You’ll order for us, won’t you, Robbs? You’ve been here before, you know what’s good?”
“Oh.” Philippa shakes her head and looks at Ben with a panicked expression. “No. We’d better go back to our own table now.”
“Don’t be silly.” Alice reaches over the table and puts her hand over Philippa’s. “We’re all enjoying your company so much. Please stay and eat with us. You know, the three of us were totally bored and irritable before you two joined us. We’re all bored out of our minds with each other, really.” Alice tips her head back and laughs. “We’ve spent so much time together lately that we can barely stand the sight of each other anymore.”
Alice continues laughing, but everyone else is silent. I stare down into my drink and try to hide my burning cheeks. I feel humiliated and upset. I’ve been enjoying Alice and Robbie’s company so much, feeling so happy to have such close friendships again, that Alice’s comment—her obvious disdain of something I’ve come to value so dearly—makes me feel ridiculous, injured.
I’m sure that Robbie feels equally upset—and for this reason I’m unable to look at him. To see my humiliation reflected in his eyes would be unbearable.
Ben says, “Sure, we’ll eat with you guys. We’re having a great time.” His voice is loud, overenthusiastic. “Aren’t we, Philippa?”
“Excellent. Thank God for that.” Alice slaps her hand on the table triumphantly. Her champagne bottle is empty and she looks slightly drunk—her cheeks glowing, her eyes brilliant—and she seems completely oblivious to the tension among us. “Let’s get some more drinks to this party,” she announces. “We’re dying of thirst here, Robbie. What do you recommend?”
Robbie clears his
throat. “I’m just going to have another Coke.” He smiles at Philippa and Ben in a forced way. “What do you guys want?”
“More water?” Philippa lifts an empty glass. “If that’s okay?”
“Ben’ll have a beer,” Alice decides, nudging him, grinning. “Won’t you, Ben? You’re not a party pooper.”
“Sure.” He nods. “Why not? A beer would be fine.”
“And more champagne,” Alice says, tossing a hundred-dollar bill toward Robbie. “Another bottle.”
“Could you come and give me a hand, Katherine?” Robbie asks as he takes the money. His voice is stiff and controlled. He looks furious.
“Sure.” I watch Alice as I get up. She’s been so weirdly belligerent since we arrived that I’m afraid that my going to the bar with Robbie will incite another snide remark. But she’s leaning toward Philippa and doesn’t even glance our way as we leave.
Robbie and I walk to the bar in silence. When we reach it, Robbie turns back to look at our table.
“Damn Alice,” he says. “She’s got some kind of agenda tonight. This is going to end in tears.”
“What do you mean?” I feel a knot of dread tighten my lower belly. I don’t want anything unpleasant to happen. I don’t want Alice to behave badly, to be cruel. I don’t want Robbie and Alice to break up, or for Alice to do something so horrible that I’m forced to question my friendship with her. The idea that this all could be over is too dreadful to contemplate, and I have to control a rising sense of panic at the thought of a future without my friendship with Robbie and Alice, a future far too lonely and dull and miserable to bear. “Let’s just have dinner and get her out of here. Get her home to bed.”
Robbie stares at me. “You haven’t seen her like this before, have you?”
“Like this? I don’t know. I haven’t seen her be so deliberately unkind before, if that’s what you mean.”
He shakes his head. “This is different. I’ve seen her like this a few times now. It’s really weird. And scary. Like she’s on a self-destruct mission. There’s no way we’ll be able to get through to her tonight. She won’t listen. And I’ll bet you a million dollars she’ll want to make a big night of it. And she’ll drag Philippa and Ben along for the ride, you watch.” He laughs bitterly. “She can be ruthless when she’s like this.”
I’m not sure what Robbie is so worried about—what he’s saying doesn’t make a lot of sense—but I’m frightened anyway. “So we’ll go out and have some fun. Go dancing or something. We can look after her, can’t we? We can make sure nothing bad happens.”
“If I were you, I’d bail now, while I could. I’d go home myself, but someone’s got to make sure she makes it home alive.” He looks over at the table again.
Alice is talking animatedly to Philippa. Philippa has her arms crossed defensively over her chest and is leaning back, away from Alice. She isn’t smiling.
We collect the drinks, and as we are walking back to the table, Philippa jumps up. She walks quickly, her head down, toward the ladies’ room
“Is Philippa okay?” I ask Ben as we put the drinks down.
“I …” He looks at Alice. “I think she might be …”
“She’s pissed off because I told her something about Ben and me.” Alice laughs. “Jesus, Ben. You picked an uptight one this time. If you wanted to find someone totally different from me, you sure succeeded.”
Ben laughs uncertainly. I can’t believe that he is just sitting there, and I’m about to ask if he wants me to go and check on Philippa when Robbie stands up.
“I forgot the water,” he says abruptly, and heads back to the bar.
And then I see why Ben is not in any hurry to chase after Philippa. As Robbie turns away, Alice puts her hand beneath the table. She puts it on Ben’s thigh, high on his thigh, and then moves it so that her hand is directly over his crotch.
I stand up immediately. Alice is smiling at me, a smile stripped of any warmth, and I’m certain that she knows what I’ve just seen, and that she’s glad.
“I’m just going to the bathroom.” I maneuver myself between the table and my chair so clumsily that the chair tips backward. “Shit,” I mutter as I grab the back of the chair before it falls. “Shit.”
“Calm down, Katherine,” Alice says. “What’s the matter with you? You look like you’ve just seen a ghost.”
I pull myself upright and glare down at her, and then I look at Ben, who at least has the decency to look embarrassed. “I’m going to the bathroom,” I say as coldly and as calmly as I can. “To see if Philippa is okay.”
Alice lifts her shoulders dismissively, and I turn and walk away. I wonder if Robbie will return to the table and see what I’ve just seen, or if he doesn’t see it, at least sense that something very odd is going on. I don’t particularly want Robbie to see Alice’s hand between Ben’s legs; it pains me to imagine his hurt and humiliation, and I don’t want the evening to end in drama and tears and painful recriminations. But Alice is humiliating Robbie and he deserves better, and there’s a definite part of me that wants Alice to be punished for it, a part of me that wants to see Robbie slap her face and dump her for good. And yet I still have a small and ridiculous (but persistent) hope that everything will miraculously turn out all right—that Alice will stop acting so crazy, apologize, so the three of us will be able to go home happy and laughing, return to normal.
But even if Robbie does see Alice touching Ben, it may not be the end of their relationship. After all, I’ve just learned that Alice had sex with someone else while they were on vacation and Robbie still wants to be with her. I’ve really no idea how much Robbie would put up with from Alice, but I’m concerned and quite sad to think that my friendship with Alice may have just changed irrevocably. She has been so unkind tonight, so deliberately cruel to both me and Robbie—and to Philippa—that I don’t think I’ll be able to trust her again. At least not so blindly. Right now, I’m not even sure that I like her anymore.
In the bathroom one cubicle door is closed, and I assume that Philippa is hiding inside.
“Philippa?” I tap gently on the door.
There’s no answer, but I sense her become stiller, quieter.
“Philippa. It’s me, Katherine. I just wanted to see if you were okay.”
“Katherine?” I see her shadow move beneath the door and then she unlatches and opens it. “Thank goodness it’s you,” she says. “I thought you might be Alice.”
Her eyes are bloodshot and her cheeks have bright red stains of color on them. She looks as though she’s been crying.
“Are you all right?” I say.
“Yes.” She puts her hand over her mouth and looks down. When she has composed herself, she looks up again and smiles. “I’m fine. Thanks.”
She goes to the sink and washes her hands, catches my eye in the mirror.
“So what are they doing out there?” she asks.
“Oh.” I look away from her reflection. “Just talking, waiting for the food, you know.” I’m not sure what she’s seen, don’t know how upset she is.
“So Alice and Ben aren’t screwing on the table yet?”
“What?” I say.
She laughs curtly, checks her face in the mirror, touches her hair. “I don’t care if they are, you know. I couldn’t care less. Ben’s a creep. I hardly know him. This is only the second time we’ve been out together.”
“Really?” I stare at her. “So he’s not your boyfriend?”
“No way.” She shakes her head. “God, no. Give me a little more credit than that.”
I am smiling now, with relief and amusement.
She grins back at me and then tips her head and laughs delightedly at the ceiling. She laughs loudly and happily, as if she’s been holding it in, and I realize that she hasn’t been in the stall crying at all. “Alice had her hand on Ben’s thigh. He thought I couldn’t see. She knew I could. I can’t tell you how truly embarrassing it was sitting there like that, playing her weird, psycho little game. Completely
surreal … I wish I’d said something. But I’m never quick enough, I can never think of something witty or intelligent to say when I’m in a situation like that.” She pauses for a moment, then looks at me more seriously. “What is it with her? With Alice? I’m sorry, I know she’s your friend, but why does she have her hand on the leg of some creepy guy who is out to dinner with another girl? And why on earth would she do something like that when she has someone as lovely as Robbie with her? They are together, aren’t they? It’s hard to tell. Especially when she’s so busy flirting with Ben. But he seems really nice. Robbie, I mean, not Ben. Ben’s about as nice as a bathful of slimy toads.”
“Robbie is nice. He’s lovely,” I agree quickly. “And I don’t know. I don’t know what’s wrong with Alice tonight. But, honestly, she’s not usually like this. She’s not usually so horrible.” But as I say it I realize that my words feel hollow and untrue. I haven’t seen Alice behave quite this badly before but, in some way, it seems that she’s been getting progressively worse and worse since I’ve met her. The more I see of her, I suddenly realize, the more I see that I don’t like. I shrug. “I’m sorry. She’s been really unpleasant. There’s no excuse.”
“‘Unpleasant’?” Philippa stares at me incredulously. “Unpleasant? Sorry, but that’s not unpleasant. Unpleasant is a sticky summer day, or someone in a bad mood. I wouldn’t exactly use that word to describe your friend. A better word would be cruel. Or spiteful. Or vicious. Or all three.”
And though I’m starting to wonder if Philippa might not be right, I also feel a prick of indignation. Alice is my friend, after all. It’s not fair of Philippa to judge her so harshly, so quickly.
“She’s not that bad,” I say. “She’s got some fantastic qualities. She can be incredibly generous and charming when she wants to. She can be a lot of fun.”
“So could Adolf Hitler,” she retorts. “Look, I don’t want to offend you. And I shouldn’t say this stuff, I know, I get myself in trouble all the time for opening my mouth like this. You’ve heard of bigfoot? Well, I’m bigmouth. I can’t stop myself. Anyway. Your friend is a total bitch. And I don’t think it’s curable.”
Beautiful Malice: A Novel Page 8
