Chapter 17 Fuko had forgotten the first lesson, that she is to be powerful, beautiful, but so full of regret
Fuko had forgotten the first lesson, that she is to be powerful, beautiful, but so full of regret
On the day of the event, Fawzia, Toby, and I are taking the Tube.
I don’t know how luck addition works. If Toby has small luck as I suspect he does, and I have small misfortune as I know I do, do we cancel each other out?
Is Fawzia’s luck the determining factor in the outcome of today’s event?
I wish we had more time together to get to know each other better, Fawzia and I. I know too much of Toby, I fear.
The events team promised everything would be done by the time we arrive, but Fawzia’s erratic foot-tapping tells me that she is not so sure. She is not biting her nails yet, but her hand keeps moving closer and closer to her face.
My period is ending, the cramps now at bay. I look at Toby and feel only slight annoyance from him dumping my best friend. Not lingering or limerence, or whatever kids call it nowadays. Just two coworkers coworking.
We tap out at the gates and head to Judgement. It feels strange being paid overtime to go to a club. As we arrive, a delivery van stops outside.
‘I have a parcel for Fuck-oh Brewer.’
Ah, that old gem. I used to be called that a lot when I was in secondary. My face contorts into a dissatisfied grimace before I’m able to compose myself.
Two snickers erupt behind me. Fawzia is more polite about it, at least she is waving her hands around in silence as she walks away.
Toby looks as if he is going to be sick from holding his laughter in—completely red in the face, eyes shut as if he is trying to find zen within himself.
Some breathing technique is employed to calm himself down.
‘Thanks, that’s me.’ I sign his thick phone-looking thing with a rough signature. I wonder what is more secure: a hanko stamp from Japan, or a squiggly signature from the UK.
Boxes arrive, and Toby helps to get them up, snorting out a giggle every couple of steps.
‘Stop it,’ I hush him.
‘Sorry, it was not the mispronunciation that was funny, it was the face you made.’
‘Yeah, like that makes it any better.’
Ugh. How could I ever have thought that even one ounce of me fancied him? We open the boxes and pull out some old candlesticks to display around. The owner gives us a quick tour and explains fire doors.
‘This one is the staff door. You need a code to get in or out. I am just going to leave a box to prop it open for now as you decorate.’
He gives a code to Fawzia, who makes everyone take a picture of it on their phones. Just as she suspected, the events team haven’t done anything of use. They claim it’s due to bureaucracy—they had too many forms to fill.
‘You have done everything else? Say Wallahi.’ She points at Dan and Dan. ‘Where are Engle and Seana?’
‘With catering. We need more hands to create ambiance.’
Fawzia looks at me and Toby with a quivering, begging lip. ‘We got it.’
‘Thank you, thank you, thank you!’
We follow Dan and Dan’s instructions. They may seem as if they are a bit lacklustre, but they do know how to create an atmosphere. The rooms transform. They hand out costumes to the rest of the staff. ‘We need to immerse ourselves. Otherwise, what’s the fun?’
And in that moment, I recognised them as the biggest nerds in the world.
They love this stuff. They love dressing up; they like costume parties.
These two men look the happiest I have ever seen them.
They might not be organised in the corporate sense of the word, but things will get done, and they will look good.
I go to the toilets to change. I wish I were better at describing clothes and fashion.
Like this ruching, and this lace thing, and this bodice-with-empire-waist thing...
Who am I kidding—I look hot, okay? It looks like the whore’s dress in New Orleans, the one that Lestat kills.
It felt weird changing clothes in the cubicle of a club.
Don’t know whether that was a high or a low point of my life.
Toby is carrying the boxes into the storage cupboard. His embroidered waistcoat and flowy shirt look weirdly good on him. His pantaloons and tights however...
‘Nice trousers.’ I walk by.
‘I deserve them after laughing at Fuck-oh.’
Hey, he said it. But something in his smile makes me forgive him. Only a little.
Fawzia gathers us around. She is wearing an 1800s-style cloak and some gloves with a matching headscarf. She gives instructions to the staff. I will be head usher; Toby will help with the bar payments, as he is not trained to pour out alcohol, which is a thing, apparently.
The cameras come in. John’s one of the camera people. He proudly announces that he volunteered when he heard I was going to be here. What joy.
He tries to talk to me, but I grab Seana and ask her to help me turn the candles on. We were not allowed to bring real candles. Fire plus drunk people with costumes: bad combo.
I go downstairs with a guest list. My job is to stamp them in the neck with two dots, like vampire bites, but also to allow re-entry if they decide to go for a smoke or something. The bouncers help me check the bags as I tick off more and more people.
‘Fuko?’ Leon dives in for a hug. He also went for a waistcoat and a cravat-type thing under his neck. ‘Look whom I brought!’
Sashka is standing in a gorgeous red gown. It’s sort of like... The bustles are all... I give up. Why do I even try? She looks great. Better than me. Why did that thought even cross my mind? Of course she is going to look better than me.
‘Wow,’ I sing out. ‘I see how it is. We have favourites, huh, Leon?’
‘Shush you, I am only allowed one plus one, and you hate dress-up, which is a shame because you look great.’
Another thing to add into the pile of boring things that everyone thinks about me. People behind him start looking a bit impatient. Faint droplets begin to form in the air and misting down. Leon moans as I stamp his neck and gladly accepts a gentle slap on the shoulder.
Sashka is a bit more hesitant. ‘He is inside, isn’t he?’
I nod. She puffs out her chest and straightens her back as she accepts the vampire bite marks.
People keep flooding in. I had to stop a man who came in jeans, as the event has a dress code. He was not impressed with my actions one bit. Took a picture of me and said that I would regret it as the bouncers pulled him away.
I am just doing my job, man. Please allow me to.
I was waiting for the celebrity to show up, but apparently, she is already in and has started giving a speech, which is my cue to shut the doors. I check RSVPs on my phone, and the number of last-minute declines matches up with the people who didn’t come. Plus, the jeans man.
I walk to the bar and ask Toby to keep my phone, as I do not have pockets.
‘I saw Alexandra,’ he says, putting my phone away.
‘Did you guys talk?’
‘Not really. There is nothing to say. I feel bad, but it doesn’t change how I feel.’
I turn away. None of my business. He is a grown adult. He knows what’s best for him.
Someone shifts in the corner of my eye, and I feel a hand land on the small of my back.
‘Fuko-chan, douzo. I grabbed one for you.’ A paper cup with ice cream appears in front of me with a decadent silver spoon sticking out of it.
John’s smarmy face is in front of me. I never realised how much he leans on things. But he is leaning now, blocking the bar for others.
‘There is no need, John,’ I say, looking up at Toby.
Vague amusement. At least someone is having fun. Some classical music with dance bass beats starts playing.
‘It’s some vegan amaretto-and-cherry ice cream. You were a big fan of cherries, as I recall.’
Ew. We had sex once after I had cherries. That’s what he is insinuating. Slimy, gross, little...
Oh my god, his hand is stroking my ass. I pull away.
‘Are you being serious right now?’ Toby leans over the bar, looking John straight in the face, ignoring the woman beside him who is trying to pay for her glass of red.
‘Is there a problem?’ John smiles.
‘You bring her an amaretto ice cream? Did you ask about almonds?’
‘Oh, that, yeah, yeah, yeah... They usually don’t have actual almonds.’
Toby crosses into the actual bar and pulls out an amaretto bottle. He points at the ingredients: bitter almond. ‘Did you ask, or are you just fine with her going into anaphylaxis?’
He looks so angry, despite his voice being calm.
‘I would go back to your camera if I were you.’ Toby finally brings the card reader to the woman.
Sashka and Leon wave at me, signalling that they want to have a chat, most likely about my ex hovering too close to me, with his cologne permeating my clothes. But I can’t look away from Toby. He is not breaking eye contact either.
His lips open, and I realise I’m holding my breath. I can’t look away from him.
I need to get out. ‘I’m going to get more spoons.’
The staff room is still propped with a box.
I try to turn the lights on, but it seems the bulb is bust. I open the window on the other side of the room that looks out to the backstreet.
The pavement glistens when the streetlamps illuminate the hefty but silent raindrops.
The gentle breeze feels cool on my skin.
What is happening to me? Get it fucking together, Fuko. You are at a work event. Why is your personal life seeping in?
‘Fuko,’ a voice behind me. A low, quiet voice.
It’s Toby. Out of all the people here, how bad is my luck that it’s him to come after me?
‘Fuko, I need to say something.’
‘Please don’t. Whatever you want to say, just keep it to yourself.’ I shake my hands in front of me.
He takes a step forward. Behind him, a bouncer opens the main door to go for a cigarette break. It creates a wind tunnel and slides the box and the door. It shuts behind Toby.
Ha. Ha ha.
Ha ha ha ha ha.