Chasing Daisy

competitive son of a bitch.
    I suddenly see Nonna with her pots and pans, trying to catch the water coming through the walls. Why haven’t my parents seen her right? How much money would it take? It’s less than a drop in the ocean to them.
    ‘Daisy! It’s so good to see you!’
    I turn my attention to my friends. ‘Hello!’
    ‘Wow, what are you wearing? And is that the latest Dolce bag?’ They don’t wait for me to answer before moving onto their next question. ‘Where have you been? Come on, come on, let’s go in!’
    The queue to the club is already snaking around the building, but I follow the girls to the front. The doormen unclip the red rope and stand back to let us pass. Cindy, Donna and Lisa barely acknowledge them, but I smile and say thank you, and immediately wish I hadn’t because I don’t get anything other than a scowl in return.
    Buff men in black-tie suits offer us cocktails on silver trays as we reach the bottom of the plush red-carpeted stairs. The latest new bar to see and be seen in stretches out in front of us. Everything is silver and white. The tables are mirrored cubes, the chairs are glossy white, the floor is polished chrome, and white velvet drapes hang from the walls. I feel like I’m standing inside an icicle and I shiver even though it’s the middle of summer.
    Donna manages to sweet-talk two men in their fifties into giving up their seats in a silver leatherette booth and the four of us slide in and make ourselves comfortable. Only I don’t feel comfortable. Not like I used to. Everything is different, now. The deep ache inside that has been bothering me recently is throbbing away now. I reach for my cocktail and take a large gulp, before motioning for one of the suited waiters to bring me another. The girls collapse into giggles.
    ‘That’s the Daisy we know!’ Lisa squeals.
    I ignore her and take another large mouthful and as alcohol infuses my body, I start to relax.
    ‘So tell us what you’ve been up to?’ Cindy says.
    ‘I want to hear about Johnny Jefferson!’ Lisa interrupts.
    ‘Is he really as hot as he looks?’ Donna chips in.
    I don’t want to talk about Johnny, but it’s preferable to talking about . . . you know. So I divulge trivial details that the girls could just read about in magazines without going into any depth. It seems to satisfy them.
    ‘What’s been going on here?’ I ask eventually.
    ‘Oh my God, did you hear about Portia Levistone?’ Donna’s eyes are wide with the anticipation of telling me a story about one of our old school friends.
    ‘No,’ I reply.
    ‘Oh. My. God,’ she says again, glancing at Lisa and Cindy.
    I go along with it. ‘Tell me,’ I urge, although I couldn’t really care less what Portia has been getting up to.
    ‘You know how she married that banker?’
    ‘I didn’t, but . . .’
    ‘Ew! He’s, like, totally disgusting. Fat and old, but really, really rich. And you know how Portia’s daddy lost all his money on the stock market?’
    ‘Did he?’
    ‘Yes! Daisy, you’ve been living in a bubble for three years!’
    Er, no, I just haven’t given a damn about any of this stuff . . .
    ‘Never mind,’ Donna continues. ‘Portia’s daddy introduced her to this old guy, like really old – forty or something like that – and they got married!’
    ‘Oh, right.’
    ‘Yes! But that’s not it. She’s PREGNANT! They’ve only been married, like, a couple of months or something.’
    Lisa turns her nose up. ‘I can’t believe she had sex with him!’
    Loud chorus of ‘EWs’ all around.
    Jesus, they still sound like they’re sixteen.
    ‘Maybe it’s not his?’ Cindy looks at the others, wide-eyed.
    ‘Oh my God, maybe it’s not!’ Donna screeches. ‘She was totally into that bartender at her hen party!’
    This is how rumours start, I think to myself indifferently. And then a thought slams into me.
    What if I’m pregnant?
    ‘So tell me about Fifi,’ Cindy turns to Lisa. ‘Did you manage to get that diamond-encrusted coat in her size?’
    I stare ahead in shock. Will and I didn’t use contraception . . .
    ‘Oh, no, I couldn’t,’ Lisa replies sadly. ‘They’re going to order it in for me.’
    My hand instinctively goes to my stomach.
    ‘Fifi is Lisa’s new chihuahua,’ Donna explains to me, but I’m already on my feet. ‘Where are you going?’ she asks, taken aback by my sudden movement.
    ‘I’m not feeling well. I’m going to head home.’
    ‘Oh.’ One, two, three put-out