The Love of My Afterlife(72)

“Hey, idiots,” I say to the two older kids. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Their mouths drop open like I’m Beyoncé or something. I do look pretty good tonight, to be fair. “Whoa,” the boy says.

“Are you okay?” I say to the younger girl. She nods forcefully but it’s clear that she’s not.

“You’re a loser,” I say, pointing to the older girl. “And you’re a loser,” I say to the older boy. “And you know what? You’re always going to be losers. Making other people feel bad because of your own lack of talent or personality or charisma might feel good now, but it’s a trap.”

The older girl sniggers.

“Oi!” the younger girl says, her voice shaking. “They’re my friends. They were just having a laugh.”

“They’re not your friends,” I say to her, chest aching at her attempt to downplay what’s going on, a move I’m horribly familiar with. “They’re a couple of lowlifes who are bullying you for kicks. Stand up for yourself, for fuck’s sake!”

Her chin wobbles a bit. “Don’t shout at me.”

“Hey! Delphie! Hi!” I whirl around to see Cooper waving at me from outside the restaurant on the other side of the road. “You okay?”

I blink and swallow down my anger. “Just a sec,” I call back. “I’m sorry for shouting,” I say to the girl, pointing to the gum in her hair. “Olive oil will get it out. You don’t have to cut it.”

My own chin wobbles.

The younger girl just stares at me slightly horrified. The older two giggle, but they sound nervous.

“Try to be kinder,” I say to them with a sigh. “Bullying people is just…it’s pathetic.”

With one last hard stare, I turn on my heel and go to meet Cooper for our date.



* * *





Before I can even process what just happened and how I feel about it, Cooper and I are met at the restaurant front desk by a man with a curled-up moustache, wearing a full velvet jumpsuit in neon green. He looks, somehow, glorious.

“Guys, I’m Sullivan, and I’m the ma?tre d’. Welcome to Concept and Caramel—‘the Experience.’?”

I side-eye Cooper, who does a sort of nervous gulp as we are led through a corridor to a large white room where groups of cool-looking people sit at large white tables, some of them licking their plates, some of them eating with their fingers, most of them laughing and shrieking. The other waiters are all in velvet jumpsuits of varying neon colours. This is what restaurants are like these days? This is not the impression that TV and film have given me.

We are led to a table in the far left corner where the ma?tre d’ wishes us a magical evening before melting away into the fray. He is replaced by a waitress in pink who asks us what we would like to drink. She’s wearing contact lenses that make her eyes look the same colour as her jumpsuit. I don’t realise I’m staring until Cooper clears his throat. “Delphie? Drink?”

“Hmm…” I say dazedly. “Do you do Liza cocktails?”

The waitress screws up her face.

I think back to The Orchestra Pit and the sequinned barman. “It’s vodka, I think with apple sours and something else that I can’t remember.”

“We don’t do that specifically, but I have something similar. It’s vodka and apple based.”

“Okay, yes. That would be lovely, thanks.”

“And you, my dude?” she asks Cooper, who I don’t believe has ever been referred to as “my dude” in his life.

“Bourbon, rocks,” he says.

“We do a bourbon-based hard seltzer with a chocolate and truffle foam top?” she suggests.

He shakes his head. “Just the bourbon, thank you.”

She nods, looking disappointed before handing us two menus and disappearing to the bar. I look around in astonishment, noticing that the couple at the next table appear to be licking some sort of sugary goo off each other’s fingers.

“I’m so sorry,” Cooper says in a strangled voice. “I googled ‘restaurants with an arty vibe,’ and this came at the top. When I saw it had Caramel in the name I just reserved because I know how much you like sugar.”

“It’s cool,” I say with a nonchalant shrug.

“It’s kind of terrible, though…”

“Yeah. Truly awful.” I laugh, which makes Cooper laugh until we’re both looking around us and laughing at how weird this all is.

The waitress brings our drinks, mine incredibly delicious,and we order a couple of starters—Cooper the miso cod and me the mushroom paté.

“So,” Cooper says when the waitress has disappeared again. “What was that outside?”

My cheeks turn pink. “Uh…I just saw this kid getting bullied and…you know. It sort of set me off. At school, I…”

He grimaces. “The woman from the gala.”

I meet his eyes. “Yeah. She made my life a misery. Her and her boyfriend. Husband now…”

“The idiot in the baseball kit?”

I nod.

“I’m sorry. Jesus. I got some ribbings at school but nothing so bad that I still remember it. I can’t begin to imagine…”