1991

1991 Part 22

"Do you think I got enough food?" Kirst is surveying the spread she's arranged on the table in her lounge. It's enough to feed four football teams for a week. 

"Yeah, you're good," I smile and walk into the kitchen where Kev is busily whipping up a jug of margaritas. 

"Perfecto! The famous Walker family secret recipe. I will share it with you because I love you sooo much my baby sister Sam," Kev slurs,  "it's 1% lime juice, 2% triple sec, 97% tequila!"

"Wow, chefs perks Kev? How many have you had?" I swear my eyes start to water just from the fumes from his breath.

"Only half of one, one, one and a half but s'fine. Three" 

"Don't breathe near any naked flames ok? This is supposed to be more of a coffee vibe." I pour Kev a very large mug of coffee and make him sit at the table to drink it. 

"I need you to eat some carbs Kev, to soak up some of the booze?" I push a plate of subs that Kirst has left on the kitchen table towards him.

"Not a problem, happy to oblige." Kev drunkenly begins devouring the giant sandwiches.

I look at the clock. Half and hour left. Half an hour until the band are supposed to arrive. I've not seen Eddie since band practice or any of the others. I'm still furious and hurt but I've agreed to be here for Becky. My plan is to suck it up for an hour or so and then go home and forget about the whole thing and all of those guys. I nervously smooth my top down. This afternoon I tried to convince myself that I didn't care how I looked and that I was going to throw on any old thing, three hours later I was finally ready. I wanted to look like I don't care, but also sexy. I tried my hardest, settling for a slim fit black v neck sweater that clings and some old black jeans rolled up at the ankles to accommodate my favourite vintage docs. I piled my hair up in a seriously messy pony and applied my regular cat-eye make-up. I added a little lip stain in red and that's it. Comfy but hopefully the tinged lips and bed head add a little. I'm still not sure why I've bothered, I guess the idea of Beth makes me competitive although I hate to admit it. 

"How you holding up Sammy?" Kirst comes in and collects a tray of glasses dressed in what looks like a cocktail dress, burgundy, skin tight and zipped up the back.

"Yeah, I'm good you know. I'm ok. Happy to help. Thanks again for having it here, I just couldn't have dealt with hosting certain people in my own home. I need to know that I can..." 

"That you can leave?" Kirst smiles, "I get it, totally understand. You can't disappear if they're in your house right?"

"Right." I look at Kirst gratefully, so happy that she understands. The doorbell buzzes loudly and makes me jump about a foot in the air. 

"Woah, calm sweetheart, it's just Stone. I asked him to come early." Kirst explains and leaves to answer it. I sit in the kitchen watching Kev eat his own body weight in bread. Kirst's muffled welcome to Stone at the door filters in.

"Hey, stranger," Scrunches stupidly handsome face appears in the kitchen doorway and gives me a smile. He's carrying a giant bouquet of flowers, a cardboard box from some fancy bakery and two bottles of wine.

"These are for you Kirst, for being the best host in town," he says placing everything on the table and giving K a peck on the cheek. It's like some kind of 50's housewife scene, totally weird and out of place for these two. What happened to the cynical, sarcastic Scrunch I met? What happened to my fabulous and fearless best friend K? Kirst blushes, then wriggles free to attend to her hors d' oeuvres. I look at the pair of them in disbelief, I'm half expecting Scrunch to whip out his sterling silver chafing dish and slip a cravat round his neck.