Chapter 6
‘I’d rather not talk about it,’ I tell Liam when Matteo, Big Mand and I arrive at the meeting point quite a few minutes late.
‘But you’re green. Why are you now green?’ he persists. It’s the pot calling the kettle black because he and Ged are still bright yellow.
By the time quick-thinking Matteo had swept me up into his arms (a fireman’s lift, of all things, while I was butt naked, screaming, ‘Nobody look at me!’ at the top of my lungs) to rescue me from the shower floor, which was covered in broken glass and slime, there was no hope of having an actual shower with water due to us not having anything to sweep up the shards of glass with.
I’d had to wipe all that gel off while flicking bits of tap water at myself.
While the gel smells terrific, the downside is that it stains when not rinsed off properly.
I have ruined the hotel towels. All of them.
Matteo didn’t escape untouched either and it was like history repeating itself when he put me down, and I saw that I’d left stains all over his lovely white (I’m pretty sure designer) top.
At least we’ve established that me and his white tops don’t work well together.
Mortified, I’d hurriedly rummaged through my case, rammed my clothes and wig back on, and raced down to the meeting point.
I couldn’t even bear to catch sight of my green face in the lift mirror on the way down.
Big Mand was no help. I thought she was going to have a heart attack from the way she kept howling with laughter every time she looked at me.
Then we had to schlep all the way from the guest suites through the busy shopping mall area, which is life-size – as in massive – past hordes of people all dressed up for a night out, even though it is still technically morning, and through to reception to report the mess I’d made.
‘Move over, Princess Fiona,’ Liberty squawks as I approach the group at the giant love sign as per the itinerary. She can barely breathe for laughing. She is wiping tears from her eyes.
‘What happened, Big Guy? Has the stag do theme changed to Shrek?’ Big Sue asks. She slaps her thigh and bends over double.
The Dollz are finding my state of disarray hilarious.
They fall about laughing. I take a moment.
If we only had ten minutes maximum in our rooms to prevent anyone trying to have a nap and we all looked terrible on entering the hotel, how the heck do they now all look stunningly gorgeous?
They are standing in front of me red-carpet ready. How? How?
‘We’re only kidding, Big Guy. You look… You look… You…’ Liberty is honking hard. She looks amazing in her perfectly coiffed wig, her pristine make-up with heavy black flicky eyeliner and her outrageously short and sexy Barbie dress. She is attracting appreciative glances left, right and centre.
‘Big Guy?’ Cherry brays with laughter. ‘That will never grow old.’
‘Big Sue,’ I say, standing with my hands on my hips. ‘Please do something.’ Surely she can appreciate that there are enough Bigs in our group already?
‘Me?’ she says, barely able to keep a straight face.
‘You started this whole Big Guy thing.’
‘Did I?’
It’s no use. They are all delirious from lack of sleep. And now I’m seeing things too. An image of Birdie sauntering towards us like an angry poltergeist.
‘Are you supposed to be green?’ she asks loudly as she reaches us, smirking.
‘Are you supposed to be here?’ I snap.
When Birdie doesn’t answer, I give up and flick through today’s agenda on my phone. ‘If we’re all here, then the first pre-moon-slash-BIG-birthday activity to help keep us awake is to head to the hotel casino via the infamous streets of Venice, for approximately two and a half hours of gambling.’
The Dollz start whooping and swishing their arms in the air. ‘I love gambling so much!’ yells Cherry. ‘Not that I’ve ever done it. But how hard can it be?’
‘Steady on there, sugar tits,’ intervenes Big Sue. ‘Stick close to me, little lady. I’ll show you how it’s done.’ Big Sue links Cherry’s arm and heads off through the crowd.
‘I have something in my suitcase that might get the green off,’ offers Liam. I regard his yellow face and try not to look doubtful. ‘I’ll go and get it.’
‘I’ll come too,’ says Ged.
Liam huffs dramatically. ‘You don’t trust me with the naked butler, do you?’
‘Of course I trust you,’ he says quickly. ‘It’s him I don’t trust. Did you see the thighs on him? He could crack walnuts.’
‘Honestly, Connie, you should see his—’
‘Meet back here in half an hour!’ I shriek. I don’t need to hear all the details. ‘I’ll come back for you.’
As the pair of them go off into a dreamlike state, Big Mand grabs my arm and we scuttle to catch everyone else up.
I hear Birdie talking to Matteo behind me as we hurry along.
I hope he mentions that nobody invited her to come gambling with us.
I can hear the odd word over the noise of chatter around us.
Words like ‘technical issues’ and ‘muddy frequency’ and ‘immediately’.
I hear him tut impatiently, and a few seconds later, he touches my arm lightly.
I stop walking. Big Mand takes one look at Matteo’s serious face and rushes to catch up with Big Sue and the others. Birdie hovers around us at a short distance.
‘Hey, Connie. I, erm, I’m not sure how to put this but…’
Poor Matteo. Birdie is deliberately holding him to ransom over their work-in-progress with the top-secret celebrity.
‘I get it,’ I say softly. I stretch up onto my tiptoes to whisper in his ear. ‘I think she’s making stuff up to keep us apart.’
He nods agreement before I continue.
‘Just play along with it while I get this lot sorted. I’m too tired to do much anyway. Why don’t we meet in a couple of hours at the restaurant? I’ll put it in the group chat. Make sure you lose her by then.’
I give him a kiss and receive an extra-hard appreciative hug in return. Matteo stares at me before breaking into a smile that lights up his entire face. It earns him another kiss. A slow, sensual one that I’m hoping will send a sharp message to Birdie.
When we break apart, Matteo cups my cheek. He blinks slowly, his mouth curving upwards. ‘See you later, Big Guy.’ He receives a disbelieving shake of the head from me.
While the two of them walk away in the opposite direction, I try to follow the group, but they have disappeared.
This place is way bigger and busier than I ever imagined, but I suppose everything in America is.
It’s not long before I spot the entrance to The Poker Room and, opposite that, huge arched pillars into the casino area.
I stand motionless as a stream of people brush past me.
I take in the giant crystal chandeliers, the elaborately gold-painted ceilings with multiple frescos styled on the Sistine Chapel, which are in stark contrast to the blinking and beeping of the one-armed bandits and slot machines.
‘Hey,’ says an extremely handsome man. ‘You lost?’
My jaw drops.
He holds up his hands before I can get my words out. ‘No. I’m not him.’
I don’t believe him.
‘Honestly. If I were Harry Styles, wouldn’t I have a British accent? I don’t know if you can tell but I’m clearly Canadian.’
I swallow. I almost made a huge fool of myself. I was about to start begging him to do a meet ’n’ greet with Ged and Liam. What a shame it’s not him.
‘I do a mean tribute act though if you’d like to come see me sometime?’ He hands me a leaflet. ‘The name’s Barry.’
‘Oh, thanks,’ I say, patting my wig. ‘We just might do that.’ If the hunt for real celebrities comes to nothing then it will be good to have Barry Styles as a backup plan.
The loud bleeping pings and tinny music fill my ears.
But it is the giant screens running all around the area showing sports, adverts for shows and sugar and fat-based products that draw my eye.
It seems as though everything you need is here, available in this vast hotel.
Bars and restaurants dot the casino area, breaking up the machines.
Gamble. Eat. Drink. Repeat. Then suddenly there’s a huge image of the Dollz and me up on the screen with an invitation to come and see us at The Cocktail Hour Lounge the following evening for an exclusive and immersive experience in global high-quality entertainment.
I look from the screen down to my outfit.
The two versions of me couldn’t be further apart.
A loud squeal alerts me to the fact that the Dollz are watching the same screen. I crane my neck above the crowd and spot Big Sue fist-bumping the air. I race over.
‘Good, you’re here. We’ve got a situation,’ says Big Sue, putting a finger to a non-existent earpiece.
Oh, God. What now?
‘But I’ve only been gone less than a minute,’ I whine. I really am so tired. I can’t be doing with this level of nonsense.
‘It’s Kev!’ shrieks Tash dramatically. ‘He’s…’ She throws the back of her hand to her forehead. ‘Gone off.’
‘Gone off where?’
‘Gone. Gone as in completely gone. He’s not here. He’s gone away.’
‘They decided to split up,’ says Liberty.
They’ve split up? Already? Tash is uber high-maintenance, I suppose.
‘I’m sorry,’ I say gently. ‘Perhaps it was for the best.’ The best for him. Before she traps him into fathering children with ridiculous names.
‘She means she’s lost him in the casino,’ says Liberty, laughing. ‘You lot are a disgrace. Even by my low standards.’
‘They’re just tired,’ says Big Mand, defending Big Sue.
‘Don’t underestimate fatigue,’ Big Sue says, momentarily thrown as exhaustion sweeps over her.
‘It’s a form of torture in some countries.
’ She lets out a huge yawn, blinking rapidly.
‘Wait. Where are we?’ She looks at the Italian-style shop facades and stone bridges.
‘What is this place? How did I get here?’ She grabs Big Mand’s arm, panic in her voice.