I found Camille and Sandra chatting with the payroll people. Bob had disappeared, maybe still busy with the hyena.

Camille literally jumped when she saw me, making the silk flower on her dress wobble in excitement. "Damn, you danced with Thierry Thorne. We saw you! How was it? What did he say? Will you see him again? What—"

I held up a hand to stop her. "Just relax, woman. Yes, we danced. He's an excellent dancer... and I'm not. I won't tell you what we talked about. And I don't have another date with him."

A waiter passed with a tray of champagne flutes. I grabbed one and downed it in one go, hoping it would calm the wild gallop of my heart.

"And what did his sister say? She came to you after the dance, we saw her." Camille used my drinking to get in another question.

I shrugged. What did she say, actually? "She didn't talk to me. Came to fetch Thierry."

"And what did you tell him?" Camille couldn't stop.

"I've told him what a TCorpse is." I giggled.

"A TCorpse?" She smacked her forehead. "Are you out of your mind?"

The champagne had reached my system. Before more glasses followed and I lost complete control, I had to put an end to this. "Listen, Camille. Let's stop this talk about the Thornes now. I won't tell you anything else."

"But—"

"You heard her," Sandra said.

Camille crossed her arms and glowered at her.

"Don't pout." Sandra moved her head closer to Camille's. "I think the payroll guys are watching you."

Camile took a deep breath and relaxed.

Sandra took both our arms. "Let's find some food."

The three of us drifted through the hall, without aim and at a slow pace. We ate strange tidbits, drank liquids I didn't even know the names for, talked nonsense, viewed the performances, and watched the jungle's plant and animal life.

And I made sure I was in plain sight all the time, an easy find for anyone who might be looking for me. Such as Thierry. Not that I cared, though, of course.

Anyway, he didn't show up again.

As time went on, the scenes before me started to blur at the edges. But there was more food and more drinking, and somewhere along the way, we lost Camille to Jake from payroll. The alcohol was buzzing in my brain and made thinking hard, which left me at the mercy of Sandra. Yet I trusted her, so I didn't mind when she steered me towards a corner where a group of people stood laughing.

A man clad all in green ruled a small dais, holding a notepad. "Now to the next question..."

The audience watched him with rapt attention. A queasy feeling stirred in my stomach—I assumed it was my body's unspoken advice to stop today's intake of fat, carbs, and spirits.

Fuck caution.

The green man took up a glass from a table beside him. "How many peas can you fit into an empty glass?"

What peas? Large or small ones? The man was withholding information, and this felt like a trick question.

The audience shouted numbers, anything between 1 and 1000. I murmured an 86 without good reason.

Then I heard a familiar voice. "None." It was Lawrence Liang from IT support, still in his parrot color scheme.

"Oooh, who do we have here?" Sandra whispered into my ear.

"Why?" The guy in green asked.

"Because as soon as you put a pea in the glass, it's not empty anymore. So you can't place any peas in an empty glass." Lawrence smiled.

"Exactly!" The quizmaster beamed, retrieved a lollipop from a jar on the table, and handed it to parrot-man. "Congratulations."

Sandra's hand on my back pushed me towards Lawrence. "Let's congratulate him."

He smiled when he saw us. Strong incisors—like something cute and furry eating carrots.

"Smart man," Sandra said.

Lawrence bowed at her. Then he put a finger to his lips. "To be honest, I knew the question."

The green man clapped his hands. "The next question will come up in a minute. And it will be a real hard one, so stay around. But first, I need a refill." He reached for a mug of beer standing beside the jar of lollipops.

I turned my gaze away from the beer. Just looking at it made my stomach squirm.

Lawrence still had the lollipop in his hand, and I groped for something to say. "So... will you eat that lolly alone?"

Damn, what was I doing here? I was drunk, and that made me talk stupid.

He tilted his head as if pondering the question. Then he looked at the candy and twirled it between his fingers. "Don't know yet..."

Sandra squeezed my arm. "Hey, I'm going to check on Camille. Lawrence... can I leave Anne with you for a little while? I think she's a bit wasted and needs someone to watch over her."

"Sure," Lawrence replied. "I'll protect her with my life."

Sandra laughed, waved at us, and disappeared into the crowd.

I watched her go, like a duckling seeing its mother disappear among the reeds while it was left bobbing on the wild waters of the pond. Surrounded by carp and other fierce creatures—such as parrots.

And the pond was slowly spinning. Yes, the duckling was wasted, badly so—and felt like being sick.

"Are you well?" Lawrence asked.

"Yeah, sure." I lied.

"You look a little pale..."

"It's just that—"

"And now, our next question." The quizmaster had emptied his mug, still holding it in his hands.

I had a vision of him asking how many lollipops you could dissolve in a beer mug, and the thought of lollipopped beer made me uneasy.

"There was that lorry driver going down a one-way street... the wrong way," the quizmaster said. "He passed a police officer, who just smiled at him." He spread his hands, palms outward. "So, you tell me... why was the police officer just smiling at him?"

Was he blind—the police officer? No, that sounded daft.

I looked at Lawrence, finding his eyes on me.

"You know the answer?" he asked.

"No."

"The officer is his brother!" someone shouted.

"No, sorry," the quizmaster replied. "Any other ideas?"

Further answers were proffered, none of them the correct one. I didn't pay much attention, though, since my stomach cramped again.

"Lawrence..." I looked at him. "I think I should go home, sorry. I don't feel too well."

"I see. I'll give you a lift, you shouldn't drive in your state."

I shook my head. "It's okay, I'm here by bus."

"In that case, I'll definitely drive you. Come." He took me by the arm and led me towards one of the exits.

Should I object, insist on going by bus? But they were bound to be scarce at this time of the night, and waves of nausea urged me to get home quickly.

I was in a daze as we left the building and he guided me to the parking lot. The night air was cool, and I drank it in, hoping it would help me clear my head.

"I'm sorry," I murmured. "I think I've had too much drink tonight."

"It's okay." He stopped at a black, shiny car, opened a door and ushered me in.

The interior was immaculate. A gleaming dashboard, glittering instruments, soft leather seats, colorful, woven carpets to place your feet on.

He got in on the driver's side.

"Where to?"

I gave him my address. He nodded as he put on suede gloves and placed them on the polished-wood steering wheel.

A small, plyboard fir-tree dangled on a red ribbon from the rearview mirror. It gave off a foresty scent, but it failed to make me feel any better.

The hanging tree—wasn't there a song about it?

"Nice car," I said. It took an effort to keep up the conversation while the taste of bile was in my throat.

"It's a 1983 Audi Sport Quattro," he said as we pulled out of the parking lot. "I bought it when it was a ruin, and then I restored it."

"Oh." I would have been impressed, probably, if I had known something about cars and if it wasn't for the cramps that grew stronger and the sweat making my blouse cling to my skin. "I really don't feel too well, sorry for... being kind of quiet."

"It's okay, I'll hurry you home. Just relax."

We drove through the city in silence, its streets, lights, houses, and noises flowing around us like water in a stream.

I was relieved when we approached my neighborhood. "Next one left."

The car turned into my alley, the motion making my head spin.

I gagged.

And I barfed.

Right onto the beautiful carpet at my feet.

"Oops," he said.

"I'm..." I gagged. "I'm so sorry."

Any hint of a foresty scent was gone from the car.

I motioned at my building. "Stop here. I'll go upstairs and get something... to clean this." The carpet at my feet was covered with my vomit.

"It's okay, don't worry." He had stopped the car, got out and opened the door for me. "Can I help you inside?"

"No." I shook my head. "I think another one's coming. I'm so sorry." I tried to give him a smile and to insist on me cleaning his rug. But my insides cramped again, and I just waved at him and ran for the door between the Chinese takeaway and the tattoo shop.

~~~

The pale, sweaty woman in my bathroom's mirror was a disaster. Ruined mascara, smeared lips, vomit-scented blouse—all of it served her right.

She was a disaster on legs.

Tonight, she had met two fine men.

The first one was the most sought-after bachelor in town. A predator, yet charming, dashing, and rich beyond measure. He had invited me to a dance. I had stepped on his feet. He hadn't shown up again.

The second one was a regular guy with a sweet smile. A parrot in a good way, kind and gentle, even though a bit obsessed with his car. He had given me a lift home, and now he was ferrying my barf through the streets of this city.

I resolved to forget both of them. I didn't need more heartache anyway.

The woman in the mirror blurred in a veil of tears.

Good. I never wanted to set eyes on her again.