My Biggest Lie by Luke Brown

chairs of literary events until the sixth drink in the follow-up dinner. Quoters of Goethe and Schiller. Owners of The Mammoth Book of German Aphorisms . Twitterers. Shitheads. Carrion-pickers. Slobs. Sociopaths. Laptop-dogs. Wolfes. Woolfs. Carvers. Lushes. Lishs. Gougers. Hacks. Mice. Lice. Writers, they were the worst, the most awful, we pitied them but loathed them more; because if it wasn’t for them, the job really would be a pleasure.
    My confrères listened to me with suppressed amusement. They had all seen me arrive with Craig Bennett and were polite enough to skip over my pitch completely and ask me the same set of questions when it was over.
    â€˜So, is it true Cockburn was screaming for mercy?’
    â€˜And the window wasn’t even open, I heard!’
    â€˜Well, someone told me he was holding him by his shirt collars, just, y’know, to shake him up, and the fabric just ripped – he hadn’t actually meant to drop him.’
    â€˜Yah. Apparently there’s a whole chapter missing they didn’t print and he’d only just noticed. A whole chapter . If that was me, someone would definitely have gone through the window. Who can blame him?’
    â€˜Someone said to me it was actually Nick Cave who pushed him.’
    â€˜Really, because I’d heard it was Bret Easton Ellis.’
    â€˜No, no, it was F. Scott Fitzgerald,’ I said, and fled tothe bathroom, bumping straight into Bennett in the corridor heading the same way with his publicist in pursuit. Amanda glared hard at me as I pushed the door open and went in.
    â€˜Thank God, I thought she was going to follow us in for a minute,’ he said.
    â€˜Shall we?’ I asked.
    â€˜Oh, yes,’ he said and we ducked in together to the free cubicle.
    We had conspicuously avoided the subject so far (I had been advised not to bring it up) but I had been made giddy by the speculation outside, and I couldn’t resist asking him any longer. ‘So, go on then, what did happen with you and James?’
    He paused and shot me a disappointed look. I’d said it gleefully.
    â€˜From the tone of your voice, I think you’d like to believe I pushed him out. Imagine if I had done that – what an appalling thing to do. Is that what you think of me, Liam? You sound like you wish I was that man, like you wish I was indecent. Is that how little you think of James?’
    He delivered this soliloquy turning between the cistern and me, gazing into my face then back and with economical movements setting out two large lines.
    â€˜I’m sorry, I was being glib,’ I said. ‘I would much prefer you to be decent.’
    He finished rolling up a note and pointed it towards the cistern. ‘And this – is this compatible with decency?’
    I searched for a truism to excuse our behaviour but came up short. ‘No, it’s really not.’
    He leaned over and snapped up his line. ‘Of course it isn’t, and if you’re going to behave in a certain manner it is important to name it correctly – or else how will you recognise and resist it one day?’
    He passed me the note. He had still not told me what happened with him and Cockburn. ‘To decency,’ he said.
    â€˜To decency,’ I repeated, and leaned over.

Chapter 5
    â€˜ Y ou like drugs?’ interrupted Arturo.
    â€˜He loves drugs,’ said Lizzie quickly, and I wondered how she knew before I realised she was talking about Arturo.
    â€˜I used to like drugs,’ I said. ‘But I don’t take them any more.’
    â€˜Why no?’ asked Arturo.
    That was the easiest and hardest question in the world to answer. Because drugs made me so hungry and irresponsible. Because that was the best thing about them.
    Bennett and I exited the toilets together to a welcoming party comprising Amanda, Belinda and Suzy. They scrutinised
us and in the surge of enthusiasm the coke had inspired it felt like being caught