Beautiful Malice (8 page)

“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.”

“What?” I sound a lot more surprised and offended than I feel.

“Yep. And I absolutely know what I’m talking about. I’m studying psychology.” She shrugs. “I’m practically a psychologist, so I’m totally qualified to make a diagnosis—Alice is a bitch. In fact, I think she’s probably got mental problems. And you seem not to have figured that out yet.”

I just stand there, silent, bewildered.

Philippa watches my face, then bursts out laughing. “Okay. Sorry. That was just a bad joke. I mean, Alice is definitely a bitch, and I
am
studying psychology, but I was just kidding about being qualified to diagnose it. I mean, anyone could see that she’s not a good person. I was just trying to say it in a funny way. To cheer you up. You look so serious and upset.”

I turn away and occupy myself looking in the mirror, fixing my hair. I
am
upset, Philippa is right, but I don’t want her to know how bad I feel, and I certainly don’t want to cry in front of her. I should be angry, offended, on Alice’s behalf, but Alice has behaved so horribly tonight that I can hardly blame Philippa for thinking as she does.

“I doubt very much that you can have any kind of real understanding of a person after knowing them for just half an hour,” I say unconvincingly. “She’s just having a bad day.”

“I’ve known her for almost an hour and a half, actually.” She leans into the mirror right next to me, forcing me to meet her eyes. “And I don’t know about you, but I’ve had lots of bad days and I’ve never behaved like that. And I’ll bet you ten million bucks that you haven’t, either.”

I’m about to argue, to tell Philippa that she’s being ridiculous, that Alice may be eccentric and a little self-centered, but she’s not a terrible person, she isn’t
sick
. And Robbie and I are not a pair of gullible idiots. But then we hear the creak of the door as it swings open, and suddenly Alice is standing there in front of us.

“What are you two doing?” she says as she walks into a stall. She leaves the door open as she pulls her skirt up, lowers her underpants, sits on the toilet, and starts to pee noisily. “Our food has started to arrive. And it’s so divine that if you don’t hurry it’ll all be eaten before you even get back to the table.” She stands up and flushes, walks to the basin to wash her hands and looks first at Philippa and then at me in the mirror. “And guess what? We’re all going back to my place after this. To make margaritas. And we’re all gonna have one. Even you, Katherine. It’s all been decided.”

We return to the table and eat our dinner, which is, as Alice said, delicious. Alice gives all her attention to Philippa and is suddenly intent on asking her all about herself. Philippa is polite and answers Alice’s questions as briefly as possible, but she glances surreptitiously at me every now and again, a bemused look on her face.

Apart from the obvious coldness with which Philippa treats Ben, the dinner passes smoothly and without further incident, and when we leave the restaurant and start walking up the road toward Alice’s, I’m surprised to find that my anxiety is gone. In fact I’m feeling quite relaxed, am almost enjoying myself. There are a lot of people on the streets, laughing and talking as they walk, and there’s a contagious vibe of excitement. It’s Friday night, and everyone is buzzing with anticipation and enthusiasm; there are happy-looking people everywhere, funky clothes, noise and laughter. So Alice is drunk and has been a bit of a bitch. So what? Worse things have happened. It’s hardly the end of the world.

We stop at a liquor store on the way and buy tequila for the margaritas. We buy handfuls of lemons from the small grocery store on the corner of Alice’s street. And when we get to Alice’s we are all happily occupied, finding enough cocktail glasses, squeezing lemons, blending the bittersweet mixture. Alice puts on some music and we sing loudly as we move around her hot, crowded kitchen. And we’re all enjoying ourselves, and one another’s company, and for a time I forget about Alice’s earlier behavior, forget my fears that the night was going to end in disaster.

“Let’s play a game,” Alice says when we’ve each got an enormous icy cocktail in our hand. I don’t intend to drink mine, but I’ll sip on it just to keep Alice happy and dump it out when she’s not looking. I’m going to remain stone-cold sober. Vigilant.

“Yes,” I agree and I look at Robbie and smile, and it’s a smile that says,
See? Everything is going to be fine. We’re all having a great time
.

And Robbie smiles back tentatively, still uncertain.

“Truth or dare.” Alice rubs her hands together excitedly and heads into the living room. “Come on. I
love
this game. It’s the best way to get to know people.”

We all follow her and sit cross-legged on the floor around her coffee table. Someone turns the music down.

“Me first?” Alice pokes her tongue out at Robbie. “And you can ask me. Since you think you know me so well. You might find out something surprising.”

“Truth or dare?” Robbie says.

“Truth.”

“Okay, then.” Robbie takes a sip of his drink and looks thoughtful for a moment. Then he looks at Alice seriously. “Do you ever regret things? Things that you’ve said or done?”

Alice stares at him for a moment. Then she rolls her eyes. “God, Robbie. This is meant to be fun.” She sighs. “Regret things … um, let me think for a moment.” She shakes her head firmly. “Nope. I don’t. I regret nothing. Regret is for the incompetent and the unconfident. And I am neither of those. Okay, thanks for that boring contribution, Robbie.” She looks around at everyone, smiling. “Who should I pick next?” Then she looks pointedly at Ben. “Young Ben. Help me keep this game on track. Keep it dirty and fun, the way it’s supposed to be. Truth or dare? And answer quickly, before I fall asleep.”

“Truth.”

“Good. Just what I hoped you’d say. And I have a question all ready for you.” Alice raises her eyebrows and leans forward. “So, young Ben, where was the most interesting place you’ve ever had sex? And you have to answer, or I get to give you a dare. And it won’t be nice.”

Ben laughs nervously and looks down at his drink. “Um, well, I guess it was once … well, it was a couple of years ago. When I first came to the States. There was this very wild girl I met. And she wouldn’t take no for an answer. No way. Not this girl. And, my God, her body was awesome, so I wasn’t about to say no myself. And anyway, this one night, we were at a friend’s house and this girl, she drags me into the parents’ bedroom. And, you know, we’re making out on their bed and then the parents come in so we scuttle into the closet, this huge walk-in thing, and, well, it’s nice and dark in there and cozy, and so, you know, we just continue with what we were doing before.” He stops talking and looks at Alice and grins. Alice looks back at him, smiling, encouraging, and all at once it’s very obvious that the girl he’s talking about is Alice. And Robbie is staring at Ben, his face blank, but I notice that his fist is clenched tightly in his lap. And again I feel that sense of panic, an overwhelming desire for everything to just stop. Rewind. Go back to the beginning. The night is going to end horribly after all. Robbie was right.