Louise

“Where do I put the oysters?” Kassidy asked, hefting the polystyrene box into the kitchen.

“Directly in the toilet?” Harry quipped, his mouth full of crisps, barely glancing up.

He shovelled a handful into his mouth. His friend, still standing with her package and coat, began to get exasperated when no one responded. They looked at each other, as though staring might somehow solve the problem.

“When you said you were bringing a succulent starter, I was expecting something edible,” he retorted.

“Stop being a child and find me a place,” she complained, bouncing impatiently on her heels.

“I may be charismatic and gorgeous, but I’m not the host here.”

Harry, ever the helpful companion, barely glanced around the small kitchen. There was nowhere to put it. He looked at her, looked at the kitchen, looked at her.

“Yep, I don’t know,” he concluded.

“You know what, Mister Universe? Shove your tongue where your crisps will exit and work your muscles for once!” she snapped, thrusting the cold box into his arms before he could make another constructive comment. “Take it. I have a cake too to grab.”

“Whose?”

“Haha, if only!” she said, leaving him behind. She proceeded towards the door, her high heels clicking sharply against the floor.

“Where do I put it now, Joe?” he asked loudly to reach the rest of the group in the other room.

He was expecting his host to respond but only George emerged from the living room.

“We need two more forks,” he simply explained in answer to Harry’s accusatory glare.

“Superb news, we need to alert The Times right now!” he cracked before asking the real question. “Where is Joe?”

“He went to grab two chairs in his office upstairs, why?”

“I want to invite him for a jig before Louise arrives, but my hands are full.”

“What?” George asked the joke flying so far over his head it nearly clipped a satellite.

As the small man opened the drawer to finish his quest, they heard the familiar sound of footsteps descending the stairs.

“Forget it,” Harry stated before leaving the kitchen.

He arrived in the large living room at the same time as Joe, Simon and their chairs. Even with a large table in the centre and two sofas in the corner, there was still enough space for two people to pass each other comfortably. The décor was simple, bordering on sparse, save for the dozens of plants Louise had nurtured and the framed photos of the group.

“Hey, Joe, where can I drop off Santa’s box?”

“In the kitchen,” Joe responded, pointing to the room Harry just left.

“Negative, there’s no space in there.”

Joe unfolded a black chair at one end of the table. Simon was doing the same across from him, the worn chair covers scratched their fingers. The host was thinking. He hadn’t been fully present with them per se since the beginning of the evening.

“I’ll make some space next to the microwave,” Joe stated as he passed Harry and his box.

“Why don’t you put it in the fridge?” George asked, putting the last two forks where they should be.

“Not with Simon’s masterpiece in there,” Joe called from the other room.

“What is it?” Harry asked in the hope he could eat something good tonight.

“A vegetable Wellington and a turkey,” the host announced from the kitchen.

The promise of flaky pastry and roasted vegetables lingered in the air, making Harry’s stomach growl despite his crisp-based snacking. Surprised, he turned back to Simon, who was swiping on his phone.

“Still no catch?” the box man asked, nodding toward Simon’s dating app.

“Some messages but no more. I should probably take pictures with a better camera.”

“I know high definition makes everything look better, but only when the subject’s worth it.”

“Go eat my shorts,” Simon retorted with a playful pout.  

“Simon, tell me you know we are only 7 tonight, not a full army. What is the meaning of all that food?”

“We’re only six. Louise isn’t joining us tonight,” Simon corrected him, not looking up from his phone. “She’s not here? Why?”

“Don’t ask me. I’m not her boyfriend.”

“Me neither,” Harry instantaneously responded before shouting in the direction of the kitchen. “Joe?”

“Yeah,” he answered, half convincing. “She went to eat with her parents.”

“We will talk about that,” Harry let go with the eyes half closed in a cartoonish suspecting look.

“After. You can drop that next to the microwave now, since it apparently required an engineer to move two spice jars and a bottle.”

“Not my place, not my duty,” Harry commented, finally leaving for the kitchen.

Joe opened the cabinet to add wine glasses to the table when the doorbell rang. Joe glanced at his friends. On the sofa, Simon and George exchanged looks. The bell rang again.

“OK, I’m going.” Simon accepted. “It’s probably Kassidy, she had left the cake in her car.”

He left through the corridor when Harry came back from the kitchen. He looked around for the unsuccessful bachelor, not finding him he simply asked the rest of the audience.

“How did Simon find the time to cook all of that? Didn’t he have a big project or something going on?”

Both Joe and George stayed silent and only responded with an ignoring shoulder shrug.

“And on top of that, Simon prepared the mains, Kassidy handled dessert, George brought wine, and I, naturally, graced the table with my stunning self. What’s your contribution, Joe?”

“I brought the table itself.”

“Fair,” Harry admitted. “So, no delicious home cooking this time.”

“Not without Louise, no,” George laughed on the sofa.

“What, she was the one cooking every time?” Harry asked, truly surprised.

The wine glasses clattered slightly as Joe shoved plates aside to make room on the table.

“Yes, and that was a good thing for us,” Kassidy commented when she entered, coat off, but carrying a box. It was presumably the chocolate cake as the smell betrayed. Initially, all eyes went to the box, impatient to taste it. The group’s attention, however, quickly drifted to her new green dress, snug and striking.

“The peep show is a present from Peter for our anniversary last week. So, if you Neanderthals are done staring, where do I put the cake?”

“The buffet should be fine,” Joe responded.

“Why is Joe not cooking a good thing?” George asked to distract everyone from where their eyes had gravitated.

“I was Joe’s flatmate for a year. I’ve earned the right to call it traumatic,” the lady of the room replied.

“It was not that bad!” Joe defended himself.

“Let’s just say, once Louise came into the picture, the dishes stopped opening portals to Hell.” Kassidy quipped, setting the cake down. “Speaking of her, she’s not eating with us?”

“No, she’s at her parents’”, Joe simply responded.

“She’s dodging us now?” Harry teased, but his grin faded when Joe’s expression didn’t shift.

“I wasn’t planning to bring it up tonight,” Joe began, his voice measured, “but if you must know…”

 The group didn’t know what to expect. There were plenty of snacks waiting for them but they couldn’t care less.

“I don’t want it to be the main topic tonight. To put it plainly, Louise and I… are not boyfriend and girlfriend anymore.” Joe admitted plainly.

The bomb dropped and so did the temperature. Pandora’s box had been opened, and no one was ready for what spilled out. How could Joe expect a breakup not to become the centre of the conversation now?

Simon looked at George, George at Simon, Simon at Harry. Harry’s frivolous nature urged him to say a million things, but his conscience wisely held him back. Kassidy was switching between faces at the same speed that thoughts and questions popped in her head.

“You’re kidding?” Harry hoped.

He grabbed the red wine on the table and the corkscrew in the drawer trying to persuade himself it was not true. Joe had a twisted sense of humour, that could be it. That should be. That was what most of the group were thinking, except George who was still processing the simple words. But wishes are wishes and Joe didn’t crack back into joy. Joe remained as serious as a corpse on his last bed.

“She made the first step, and I accepted it.”

Harry popped the cork and raised his eyes to heaven trying to reach any superior authority and get an explanation.

“Holy godly guacamoly shit!” George blurted, breaking the silence.

“What she did,” Kassidy chimed in, her tone sharp, “was step all over you, and you just let her.”

“Let’s not make a fuss about it. Joe wanted to avoid the subject,” Harry suggested.

“Getting sent back to masturbation-only jail isn’t the kind of thing you bring up at a party unless you want it to become the main event. I’m not throwing away my ticket.”

She pointed at Joe like the situation was universal evidence. George was so engrossed he had left the sofa to pace in thought. It took nothing more than one second for Harry to stop trying the group’s nose to point into Joe’s privacy. In truth, Joe was just as curious. He didn’t fight more than the etiquette required; at least someone had to suggest avoiding the subject.
As the news sank in, Joe poured a glass of wine for everyone.

“No wine for me, thanks,” Simon shyly protested.

“Nah, nah, nah, today you drink,” Harry declared, brushing off Simon’s protest and sliding a glass of the red alcohol next to his soda. “We didn’t hear a lot from you so far, Simon, no comments?”

“I’m not the most qualified to answer. It’s not like I’ve had a lot of breakups.”

“I’m not asking if you’re Don Juan or Taylor Swift. I’m just curious about what your non-alcohol-oiled little grey cells will formulate as an opinion?”

“They’ve processed that I don’t know what to say,” Simon recognised.

“At least it’s a thought,” Kassidy taunted, heading to the kitchen.

George, who was walking to evacuate the discomfort, finally turned over and faced his crushed friend.

“It’s been what? 10 years?” he asked Joe.

“It would’ve been 9 years next month.”

“And she threw all of that away on a whim. I’ll never understand women.”

Harry looked at Kassidy coming back from the kitchen with the oysters and another bag of crisps. They caught each other’s eye and laughed, both holding back the easy joke: ‘That’s not the only thing you don’t get.

“Hopefully, you’ve decided to swing the other way,” Kassidy joked as she set the starters on the coffee table.

“And the other way does not complain,” George retorted.

“Nice. Snacks and rocks, my favourites!” Harry attacked, eyeing the oysters.

Kassidy and the rest of the group ignored him and started enjoying the molluscs with lemon and held thoughts. Harry slumped back into the sofa with a fresh bag of crisps. After an unbelievable 3 seconds of silence, he turned to Joe.

“So, how do you feel?”

“It’s… complicated,” Joe hesitated.

“It’s easy,” Harry interjected with crisps all over his mouth, “I mean, it’s easy to say it’s complicated. But you’re not Simon, you can articulate it.”

“It’s complicated because it’s a mix,” Kassidy cut in, “Sometimes I think about all the little and big things that would change if Peter and I broke up. That’s a lot. I really don’t want that.”

“Hard to say, my guys don’t usually stick around. You should do the same.” George commented, grabbing an oyster.

“I don’t know if they stick but you stink. Did you just come straight from the gym?” Harry asked the friend sitting next to him, though he knew that wasn’t the case. “Oh. Don’t mind, it’s the oyster,” Harry griped before plunging back on the sofa.

“If the grumpy kid decided to break my foot again just because he doesn’t like one dish on the menu, he will realise that shells are not the most pleasant suppositories but that with conviction we can make them fit in,” Kassidy informed him with one of the oysters of the discord in her hand moving in an explicit way.

“Yes, but sorry for arriving on time, happy and hungry,” he grumbled, sinking deeper into the sofa.

“What I meant is, you probably want to get over it and do better with the next one,” George explained.

Everyone paused to reflect, quietly nibbling on their favourites, in a chaotic opera of bowls and glasses jingling against each other. Then, Simon froze. His eyes were looking in Joe’s direction, but his mind was elsewhere. He calmly let his mind drift.

“When you lose something, you’re mostly sad, but there’s anger too. You wonder what more you could have done,” he said.

Harry stared at him with big eyes of surprise. He was impressed. Simon saw that and didn’t know how to react. Harry just nodded to confirm he agreed.
“You’ll probably feel lonely in the days ahead. If that happens, we’ll be here for you, even me, as long as you keep serving up delicacies like this to soak up the booze,” Harry concluded.

George stood and headed to the kitchen. A moment later he returned with salmon canapés. The smell nearly made them forget the oysters. But George stopped before reaching the sofas.

“So, why are there 6 covers when there are only five of us?” he asked, setting the tray on the coffee table.

Before anybody could respond, he had already gulped one of the canapés and seized another.

“The last one is obviously not for her,” Kassidy hinted.

“So, who’s it for?” he asked again.

“Ash,” Simon replied, as if it were obvious, because truly, it was.

Changes to the guest list were rare. Maybe tonight could have been an exception. And, right on cue, the doorbell rang.

“Speak of the devil,” Harry commented, standing up.

“Ash or Louise?” Kassidy joked to his friend walked towards the main door.

“Ha-ha,” Harry replied, “but maybe it’s a little too soon.”

Kassidy pulled a face, clearly disagreeing. George, still confused, leaned forward to peer down the corridor.

“Wait! Who’s at the door, Louise or Ash?” he asked.

“Ash!” Harry shouted to The Explorer, rolling his eyes.

Kassidy glanced at Joe, who was still lounging on the sofa. He stood, half present, half elsewhere. He was listening. Maybe it was the wine, maybe it was the warm atmospheres, but she dropped it.

“She was a slut.”

The bomb stayed there. Even Joe woke up from his lethargy.

“Come on! Louise! She is called Louise! As in Louise-always-on-her-knees. She didn’t seduce you with her mind, let’s be honest. I won’t blame you; I’ve known boiling furnaces colder than her. But…” Kassidy let float, as if the point was obvious, and a good argument.

“Whom are we talking about?” Ash questioned appearing in his biker jacket behind Harry.

“The subject that wasn’t supposed to be the centre of attention,” responded Harry, sitting back.

The last guess limped to a chair, put his jacket on it and dropped his helmet in the corner of the room. He saluted everyone and got a round of greeting back. He looked at the funeral faces of the group oblivious of the situation. Then he noticed the empty basket of oysters and the rest of the table.

“You started without me!”

“If we waited for you to start eating every time, the concept of fresh or warm food would be a dream as fabulous as an honest politician,” Harry retorted.

“Microwaves exist,” Ash added, sitting next to him and pushing him aside in the same move.

“And two chefs went through seppuku just hearing your culinary proposition.”

Harry mimed an imaginary blade plunging into his stomach. Ash patted his shoulder to move on.

“So, whom were we talking about?” he questioned again.

“Louise,” George responded with a tone that didn’t leave room for good news, “She broke up with Joe.”

“And is that a bad thing or a good thing?” Ash asked, as if it were nothing.

“Please!” Simon to try to keep a little of decency. “That’s a breakup we are talking about.”

“You’re joking. For example, George,” he continued, turning to the designated friend with open hands, “that not if it was a secret: you hated her”.

“What?” George sputtered, a piece of toast still in his mouth.

“You always complained when they moved together,” Ash completed.

“I didn’t hate her. I had my reserve at first, she had lesbian vibes.”

“Funny thing to say, coming from a gay guy like you,” Harry chuckled.

“What do you mean by gay like you?” George questioned, offended.

“Nothing. Just a gay guy saying a lesbian’s a problem. You’ve got to see the irony.” Harry deflected.

“I don’t say that.” George tried to explain. “I mean, she seemed to eat bushes so I was surprised she preferred straight branches.”

“I could see that,” Kassidy added. “And speaking of which, be careful the orchard gate is open,” she teased, pointing to her friend’s revealing trousers.

“Oh,” George muttered, quickly zipping up what should’ve stayed closed in public.

“They lashed out, and you just let them,” Simon shouted at Joe, too passive for his tastes.

“I listen, and I learn new things.” Joe replied, more bothered than he let on but stupidly curious about what they really thought.

“Anyway, I wasn’t the closest to her, and we all know what Kassidy thinks of her,” Ash said.

George, still on the sofa, glanced around for support before placing a hand on Joe’s shoulder and meeting his gaze with a serious look.

“I promise you, I didn’t hate her.” George said earnestly.

“That’s not what matters. Let’s just eat,” Joe stated.

Everyone stood together. The ballet of squeaking chairs began and concluded after a few shuffles. The forgotten salt and pepper shakers found their way from the kitchen, followed by Simon’s Wellington and turkey. The smell of it filled the room, making mouths water. They had been reheated in the oven, crisping the bird’s skin. The cook served each guest and the host. The Wellington revealed not meat, but vegetables, that were more than welcome. A creamy sauce joined the party. Obviously, a bottle of each colour was opened. Taste buds sang with joy. For a good five minutes, Louise was not the subject of the discussion even if she was in everybody’s mind.

“So why did she decide to break up?” Ash broke in,” Monotony? Children? Money?”

“She thought it was time. We were ready to change, and discover new things,” Joe casually explained moving his fork like a magical wand.

“People who want to discover new things go to BDSM clubs or crazy holidays; they don’t break up!” Kassidy spat out, surprised by the stupidity of her friend’s ex, and of her friend after all.

“You got some recommendations?” Simon tried to joke.

“Egypt’s great for holidays, and you’re welcome to join us at the Wing for clubs. Peter and I are performing next Saturday,” she declared matter-of-factly to her friend, who was too prude to look back at her or assume his own joke.

“What time is it?” George asked, completely oblivious to the mockery that had just taken place.

The question still remained and Kassidy was more than happy to have some friends attending her performance.

“10:30 p.m. but be aware of the dress code.”

“I will find something to wear and someone to bring, don’t worry.”

“In such a short notice?” Kassidy asked, quite curious.

“Yes, I’ve had the clothes since last year, when Harry and I came to see you. And for my companion, let’s just say I know people,” George replied before swallowing a huge piece of turkey. “You see that the advantage of not having any attachments, I can choose when I want to have them. And the rest of the time it’s simple: No boyfriend, no drama!” George declared with a grin.

“We must admit, Louise was not really a drama queen. It’s just you who hates competition,” Harry let go, not looking up from his nearly empty plate.

 “I don’t hate her!” George protested.

Kassidy moved up to the turkey and began carving what was left. Generous as it was, the meal seemed barely enough for the six voracious souls at the table. The sauce was nearly gone, and the turkey was reduced to a clean carcass.

“We trust you, my dear,” she mocked in a dramatic tone. “Do you want more turkey?”

“I assure you I don’t!”

“Perfect more for the others.”

“No, I don’t like, damn, hate Louise,” George stammered, prompting restrained laughter from his friends. “Oh, you know what I mean. Stop laughing and just give me more meat.”

“Perfect. Who else?” Kassidy asked, but before she could finish, five plates were already in front of her.

“You see, you and Louise are like Simon and this turkey,” Kassidy began, serving slices as she spoke.

“This is going to be a lecture we’ll remember, I’m sure of it. From now on, your words could lead to the most remarkable or disastrous outcomes, be careful!” Harry commented as he grabbed the rest of the sauce.

Kassidy was sure of her, Joe was not so much. Simon looked concerned, clearly uncomfortable about being dragged into something he couldn’t control. Anyway, she pursued.

“You both could have found one with a bit more cushion where it counts.”

“First, this turkey was supposed to be for 10,” Simon immediately responded.

“Probably for kids,” Harry muttered through a mouthful of sauce, meat, and wine.

“Second,” Simon cut back in, “easy to say when your ballistics could compete with North Korea. You’re what, a D?”

“E, you want to try?” she offered, looking Simon in the eyes.

“Seriously?” Simon blurted, unsure whether she was mocking him or if this situation might even somehow come up again someday.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you, Simon,” Joe warned.

“Why? She offered,” the boy replied, completely lost in the possibility.

“She’s got a big knife,” Joe said calmly, glass in hand, “Trust me, it won’t be her balloons she’s popping if you get too close. And don’t forget, the ‘S’ in BDSM can stand for ‘sadism.’

The boy came back down to earth and abandoned the idea, saddened by the realisation she had never been serious at all.

“That’s why she pisses me off,” Kassidy admitted with a sigh. “At least when Louise was around, she kept everyone’s urges in check.”

“Simon’s urge,” Harry corrected.

“Nah, nah, nah, I’ve got eyes and can see where you stroll,” she protested. “The raunchiness of the group is high enough to challenge George’s hatred of Louise.”

“Hey, I don’t,” George protested, ignored by the others.

“You’re joking! You are the one who always comes out with the dirtiest jokes,” Harry argued, grabbing another bottle from the reserve.

“The sheep has to disguise itself to blend in with the wolves.”

“And the sheep often makes the wolves blush. Maybe she put on the suit of a horny nymph,” Harry countered.

“Horny enough to cheat on her husband,” Simon blurted out without thinking, still swiping on his phone.

He realised a little bit too late the bomb he had dropped. The room fell silent. Forks paused mid-air, and all eyes turned to Simon. Kassidy was redder than her wine glass. A drop of sweat formed on his forehead. He tried to find help in the eyes of his male friends, but nobody could save him now.

“What exactly is the mismatched-loser-swapping-addict accusing me of?”

“Wooo, slow on the bird names,” Joe intervened to be shut down immediately by Kassidy, which wasn’t done with her confronter.

“We’ll circle back to your bitch right after this brief intermission,” Kassidy cut him off, waving her hand dismissively. “Now, Simon, enlighten us. Careful. The place is dark, slippery and there are traces of blood on the floor,” she warned, her fingers drumming a tense rhythm on the table.

“I, I, I, …” Simon stammered, rubbing the back of his neck as if searching for words in the air.

“Eye doctor, iPod, I’m a dumbass?” Kassidy snapped, her fingers drumming a sharp rhythm on the table.

“Well, go to hell.” Simon snapped. He pointed at his female friend with the conviction of a lawyer. “I saw you with another guy while I was shopping. You were close enough to be inspecting each other’s tonsils.”  

“No, you didn’t!” she insisted, trying to shut him up.

“Yes, I did!” he shouted, punching the table.

“When?”

“Three days ago, in the midafternoon.”

“I was sick on Tuesday, at home, with Peter looking after my feverish, half-dead body.”

Kassidy looked up at Simon, gauging his reaction

“Say what you want, I know what I saw,” Simon ended, crossing his arms.

He was pissed to be accused like a victim when he was just the witness. After all, he couldn’t care less if she was cheating or not. He knew what he saw, and that was all.

Kassidy gripped the edge of the table, grounding herself with something solid. The audience stayed silent. They were more concerned for their friends than judgmental about a hypothetical affair. Kassidy breathed deeply. Three long breaths to calm herself. Once her heartbeat back to a more manageable rate, she slowly placed her hands flat on either side of her plate.

“That wasn’t me. That was Alicia, my twin sister.”

She didn’t want to talk about it. It was obvious. But most of the time friends know to ignore the obvious.

“That was quite intense,” Harry pointed out with hand gestures of a surprise mister loyal.

People tend to misinterpret a lot once they know you’re involved in BDSM gigs. They lump a lot of things, and not in the kindest way,” Kassidy explained, avoiding her friend’s eyes.

“Stupid people at work?” Harry questioned back into a more serious tone.

“Yes,” Kassidy replied simply, picking at the cold remnants on her plate.

“Sad”

“Yes”

“Yes, yes, yes. But that doesn’t explain the twin sister!” Harry exclaimed, throwing his hands up. “You escape from a telenovela or we can get any form of explanation!”

“There is no big reveal here.”

“Except the existence of your twin sister,” Simon commented, still irritated about being contradicted.

“I never talked about her because we don’t get along. We are like cats and dogs but if the cat was an oil democrat fire and the dog a watery republican ice, and it was always the election period, and we were at war.”

“So you two hate each other, at least as much as George and Louise,” Joe said.

“Yes,” Kassidy replied.

“I don’t hate her!” George inserted in.

“You could have said that immediately,” Simon argued, gesturing sharply towards Kassidy..

His hand gesture got accompanied by a rain of red drops on the tablecloth.

“Fuck!” Simon let go, staring at his hand..

“You’re bleeding,” George noticed.

“Thanks for the keen observation, Explorer.” Harry retorted sarcastically before using his napkin to cover the wound. “Can someone get him a bandage! Let me look.”

“I think I cut myself on my knife when I slammed the table,” the injured man elucidated.

“All of that, and you didn’t even touch Kassidy’s boobs,” Harry remarked.

Joe went to the bathroom and returned in a matter of seconds with an old red suitcase. Inside was everything required for small injuries. The wound wasn’t that deep. Harry disinfected it with a chemically smelly antiseptic. Simon winced. The first aid kit had mundane bandages, but Harry, of course, chose the child’s one with The Flash on it.

Simon opened his mouth to protest but, in front of his stupid friend with a satisfied smile, he said nothing. He was too jaded to argue on stupid bandages.

“Sooo, that’s done,” said Harry, grabbing the pitcher of water for the first time tonight.

Ash hobbled around the table to pick up the dishes. Next to Joe he half-innocently asked.

“Back to Louise, or past her, what are your plans next?”

“What do you mean?” Joe asked, standing up to pick up the covers.

“Do you have anyone in mind?”

“A little early for that. Don’t you think, Ash?”

“The earlier, the merrier,” Ash argued.

“Never too soon,” Kassidy added.

“Plenty of fish in the sea!” Harry nearly shouted, following the trend.

Kassidy nodded in agreement. Simon, however, looked less certain. Harry turned to him, and mimed a relay handover. Simon, bandaged hand and all, didn’t get it and simply ignored him.

“I can introduce you to some of Alex’s friends.” Ash offered as it was his intention from the start.

“I’ll pass,” Joe replied firmly. Then he dropped the cutlery onto the pile of dishes his friend was gathering.

“Shotgun, I don’t!” Harry interjected.

“Monday 7 p.m. I’ll pick you up at your place.”

“Wait, this is going too fast. Is this a trap?” he suspected.

“Yes,” the matchmaker admitted, setting the pile of dirty dishes in front of Harry. Not in a particularly helpful mood, the child-man passed it too in front of George.

“Good! I prefer to know,” Harry playfully responded to Ash leaving the room. “Where are you going?”

“Pee!” his friend shouted from the dark corridor.

“Arg!”

George grumbled but complied with the explicit request induced by the burden in front of him. And on his turn, he vanished in the kitchen.

Kassidy pointed at Joe with her glass.

“You can try the sister. Unlike Alex’s friends, you already know her. Plus, she’s younger and fresher than Louise.”

Kassidy genuinely believed in the idea. She weighed the possibility, then offered what she thought was a serious suggestion. Joe had half a smile. Simon thought she was joking. Harry pointed at her with two gun-hands.

“It’s stronger than you, isn’t it, Sheepy?” he teased.

“Fuck you. Amicably!” Kassidy shot back before taking a sip of her drink.

George returned from the kitchen with the scent of chocolate. He was holding the cake box and a clean knife triumphantly.

“Look what I found!”

The reception was split. Everyone loved cake, but most were already too full. And one of them had other plans before dessert could be served.

“No, the better would be a bar or a party like last weekend,” Harry suggested as an alternative to Joe.

“You could even use Simon as a wingman. He finally seems to have some free time these days.”

“Nah, I’m fine,” Simon replied, more interested in the box beside him.

“Why not? Still busy at work?” Harry pressed, putting his hand on the box to stop him.

“Yes, quite a lot”

Simon tried to open the box, but his friend’s hand kept it shut.

“A work that you’re not at on a Tuesday afternoon? So busy you have cooked a turkey and a Wellington on a Friday?”

George glanced at Kassidy, intrigued. She shook her head, signalling both ignorance and curiosity. “What’s your deal? Am I under investigation now?” Simon enquired.

“Why do you keep avoiding us?” Harry demanded.

“I don’t”

“You haven’t been to any of our parties or gatherings, except for our Friday ones, for like the past 6 to 8 months.”

“That long?” Simon asked, surprised, admitting it de facto.

“Yes, that long!”

“I’m busy.”

“But not at work, apparently.”

“Yes, at work! Just not the one you know about,” Simon replied curtly, shutting Harry up.

And that worked. He removed his hand from the cake box. He was baffled. The usually talkative Harry found his words escaping him faster than his temper could slip away. He ended up with his hands in a praying gesture against his lips.

“What? You changed jobs?” Joe asked.

“I started my own cybersecurity company.”

“Since when?” Harry asked, outwardly calm despite seething underneath.

“9 months.”

“And you’ve got clients?” Joe asked genuinely as he opened the cake box, releasing a rich, dark chocolate aroma.

“A lot. So much that I hired two employees last month to cope. I’m earning much more now and manage my own schedule,” Simon confessed proudly.

“And you still chose to let us down,” Harry groused, arms crossed.

At that moment, Ash returned from his detour. His nose caught the scent that his eyes immediately sought out. With the dessert in mind, he negligently enquired.

“What did I miss?”

“A lot, Jefferson. But what’s new? You’ll be on time when time itself stops moving faster than you,” Harry shot back in rapid-fire tit-for-tat.

“OK, seriously, what did I miss? Who shoved a baobab up his ass?”

“Everyone, because everyone has decided we are not good enough for them,” Harry snapped, pushing his chair back with a screech that cut through the room. He stood, his fists clenched tight at his sides. His face flushed crimson as he paced in short, agitated steps, the tendons in his neck taut. He pointed an accusing finger at each of them, his voice trembling with frustration.

“Louise and Joe’s drama, Kassidy’s hidden twin sister, and now Simon admits he left his job nine months ago without bothering to mention it until today. So go eat your damn cake and ignore all the lies floating around.”

He pushed his seat back in place. He made a few steps back and forth. Then finally turned toward George who didn’t see him coming. He bent next to him in a patronising way.

“And you, Explorer, nothing to add? No hidden murderer past? No secret to reveal?”

Surpassing Harry’s presence over him, and surprising the audience George stood up, literally and figuratively.

“You know what, mister? I do!” George declared firmly, standing face-to-face with a disarmed Harry. “I know what you guys call me, the Explorer! I’ll plant my fist in your noisy face!”

“You know?”

“Yes, I know. I’m a bit slow to catch on sometimes, according to your standards. And that reminds you of Internet Explorer. I know the meme, that it’s slow as fuck. The same fuck you deserve right now.”

And joining the action to the word, he presented the middle finger to his friend.

“Simon told me,” George explained as he sat back, satisfied.

Before any other reflection that will have come anyway, Simon explained with the same aplomb.

“Yes, I told him. That’s like calling Kassidy ‘dirty uncle’, Joe ‘Stoic the Viking’, or you ‘comic relief number 506’. A funny nickname, yes. An insult, no!”

Each designated member oscillated between the guilt of using the Explorer surname and the vexation of Simon’s examples a little too close to reality.

Harry, twice defeated, slowly came back to his place. Looks went from one to another.

“What was that, Harry?” Ash asked.

“Sorry. I’ve been stressed lately. I just learned I have cancer.”

The room fell deathly silent. The faint hum of the ventilation was the only sound, underscoring the sudden stillness. George froze mid-motion, the fork he was holding slipping from his hand and clattering against the plate. Kassidy stared at Harry, her eyes wide, her lips parted as though she wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words.

“Fuck.” George finally muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. “What a night.”

Even Ash, usually quick with a joke, said nothing. The air felt heavy, oppressive, as if the weight of Harry’s revelation had seeped into their very bones. No one dared to meet his eyes for fear of seeing something they weren’t ready to face. But, by force of his own nature, Harry was the one deflecting it.

“At least, you nemesis Louise isn’t here,” he said to George.

“I do not hate her. Seriously!” the accused mumbled.

Silence reigned in the room, which felt both too small and too big at the same time. Even the fly stayed hushed. The faint smell of chocolate lingered, but no one could bring themselves to reach for the cake.

“Did you hear about Miss Castora? She died last year,” George said, attempting to cut through the awkward tension.

“Cancer?” Kassidy asked. Her bluntness cut through the tension like a knife.
“Nope. Truck,” George deadpanned, eliciting groans around the table.

“And what’s the point?”

“I thought I’d talk about something to lighten the mood,” George said.

“And you mention death?” Harry asked, playing with his spoon.

“That’s more she was Joe’s ex.”

“WHAT?” Harry blew up, more amused by the incongruity of this secret than pissed by it for once. “Miss Castora, the art teacher from high school? When?”

“At uni,” Joe admitted. “But it didn’t last long at all.”

“You’re kidding! Your mommy syndrome started when you left home? That’s cute and concerning.”

Harry was so entertained that it was as if nothing happened before that tonight.

“No, I’m not kidding. She even came to one of our parties, and she was barely seven years older than us,” Joe argued, as if it would make a difference.

“Wait, the redhead one? At the welcome party?” Ash asked as some distant memories found their way back in his mind.

“Yes,” Joe responded. 

“I remember her. She was… special,” Ash said.

“She was crazy,” George reinforced.

“But I thought she was into George,” Ash remembered.

“Ho-o-o-o, she was, but not in the way you thought,” George explained, still disturbed by his shadow past. “She asked me 100 times if she could paint me naked. First, I would have hoped 100 times was a hyperbole. Second, she made it ambiguous who would be naked. During this party she even sketched me, twice. Wait! Maybe she was into me,” he realised.

His face twisting into a grimace as if he could still feel her eyes on him

“Lucky you, you swing the other way. You probably dodge a massive bullet,” Joe laughed.

“I did. That is not the case of Harry! What was her name Cara?”

“Carmen!” Harry spitted.

The memory hit him like an unwanted recollection. A dirty secret he wasn’t proud of. Harry’s face flushed red. He banged his head on the table.

“Please, please, describe your forest escapade,” George requested.

“Okay, Okay. We were into pranking each other, hardcore.”

“Surprising, monkey king,” Kassidy noted.

“Yes, I know. But I knew when to stop. It was after the uni farewell party, no need to say I was wasted. She kindly offered to drive me home, but I was too naïve to suspect anything. As a prank, she drove me 10 miles away from my place, and dropped me in the forest, without my phone in the middle of the night.”

Joe shifted uncomfortably in his chair, his eyes darting between his friends, who seemed far too entertained by his misery. He still continued.

“It was pitch black, and I could hear the sound of leaves crunching under my feet. Every rustle made me think I’d stumbled into a horror film. It took me hours to find civilisation again. Without a phone or money, I tried asking some cops for help. But they didn’t believe me.”

“You ended up in a cell?”

“Yes, I tried to run, but fell immediately. They put me in a cell for intoxication in a public place. They kept me for an entire day!”

“I was in this cell too,” Joe added.

“Ho, yeah, it’s true. We were together in this. I stumbled on you and that is why we didn’t escape!”

“You were both fuller than barrels,” Kassidy guessed.

“More than that,” Harry commented. “No need to say I avoid her after that.”

“No, the ultimate bitch was Johanna!” Kassidy realised punching the table as she remembered her.

“Who?” Simon asked.

“Another of Joe’s great exes. That was when you were in Spain, before Louise,” Harry explained while reaching for another glass of red.

“And what was her deal? Another prank?”

“She was a whole bundle,” George explained. “Stop me if I’m wrong,” he offered to his host, who nodded in agreement. “She stole a license plate because she thought it was beautiful. She called him every day, even when they’d spent the whole day together. She dug up Joe’s dead cat to try on taxidermy, but it was fine because it was supposed to be a valentine’s gift.”

“Her picture is on the crazy-hot scale article, not as an example, but as a warning, like the ones on Egyptian tombs. She was hotter than hell and crazier than that,” Kassidy added, completely engaged in the subject.

“You knew her?” Simon questioned, surprised as he didn’t know Kassidy back then.

“Let’s say I met Joe thanks to her.”

“Because the cherry on top of this massive cake. She was extremely jealous and volatile!” Harry laughed, nearly losing it.

It was not the most comfortable discussion for Joe, not really fun per se. But his friend continued.

“We discovered she cheated with an average of one other guy per day during the three months her and Joe were together,”

“My ex was one of them,” Kassidy explained. “That is how I met Joe, Harry then you guys. That is how I resolved my flat mate problem and how Joe found a new place.”

“She was the ultimate slut! My only regret is that centrally to Louise she didn’t cheat on with me!” Harry burst out laughing, carried away by the excitement.

Joe’s mood flipped 180 degrees, and without thinking, he slammed his fist into Harry’s face.

It looked like those movies where the time stopped, but everyone was aware of it. Simon, who had been trying to open the cake box, jumped to avoid the hit. Kassidy just in front of the assault. Ash hesitated, torn between covering his mouth in shock or stepping in to stop his friends. George reached out in vain, trying to grab Harry’s chair before it toppled over. Joe stood there, infuriated, while Harry fell back into his chair, blood dripping from his nose.

“That is my fiancée you’re talking about!” Joe roared, his fists trembling at his sides.

Kassidy sprang forward, grabbing Joe to stop him from throwing another punch.

“We know, we know,” she explained, worried. “That was a stupid prank!”

“What?” their host asked, confused and still fuming.

“You went too far with this one, Harry,” George stated, handing the punched guy a napkin.

“Yeanh, I feel it,” Harry replied, his voice nasal from the blow. “To be clear I didn’t sleep with Louise, that was part of the prank. Sorry. But it took you time too to drop the act.”

“You knew?” Joe questioned, embarrassed enough to help his friend to get back up.

“Even I saw clear in your prank as soon as you avoided saying you broke up,” George enlightened.

“Plus, Louise bet with us you will propose before the end of the month. She is more lucid than you’re discreet. We knew she would not break up with you,” Kassidy clarified. “So, when you started tonight, we played along.”

“Everything was fake? The twin sister, Simon, new company, Harry’s tantrum?”

“No, no, no. They were real discoveries,” Ash explained as everybody confirmed. “Everything except the insults and mockery about Louise were true. We loved her, don’t doubt that, except maybe George.”

“I truly don’t hate her, damn it!” George added.

“But you still can find one with bigger advantages if you want,” Kassidy complemented, pointing to her own advantages for clarification.

“And so, you really have cancer, Harry?” Joe asked, concerned.

“Half-truth,” Harry admitted, “I got some two small cysts in my lower back. They are benign but I got them removed tomorrow.”

“Pranking about cancer? That’s messed up, even for our group, you dumbass,” Simon said.

“Is your nose better?” George asked.

“Yeah, I think it stopped bleeding,” he responded to George before bowing down, “That just that I was pissed everybody is doing so much fun stuff but me. And sorry for what I told you, Simon, I’m sure your company will skyrocket.”

“Thanks”

“You made us laugh and that already a lot. Let’s forget our stupidity with cake now,” Joe suggested.

And as fast as they went into a fight, they went back around the table with delicious chocolate cake, that wasn’t a lie, in front of them.

“I think I would have preferred ice cream, for my nose,” Harry joked, painfully.

“Oh no, the grumpy child woke up!” Kassidy grunted.

At this moment the doorbell decided to ring. Joe was the first to get up. He hesitated at the door, his hand hovering over the handle. He turned back to the table.

“That’s probably her. Let’s keep tonight between us,” he requested.

“Yes!” they chorused, their grins barely hiding the fingers crossed behind their backs.