Chapter 8
We are helpless in the face of that American drawl and fall in behind him once more.
I quickly text the group chat to say that we are on our way and that we just need to find Cherry first. I will skip over the part where we are following a stranger to God knows where, to do God knows what, all because Liberty has fallen for his dreamy accent, stubble and supremely confident manner.
Ged replies instantly with a photo of the rest of them all fast asleep in the booth. He says he will stand guard.
Dripping-Wet Guy leads us towards the canal shopping area, over the bridge where the gondolas float underneath, through the mall to a very elegant boutique. He stops outside. ‘After you,’ he says to Liberty.
My heart sinks as I peer inside. He couldn’t have brought us anywhere more expensive. I fear for my credit card once more.
We go in, and immediately the shop assistants float over. They are extremely professional and have either seen it all before, the bargain-basement Barbie outfits, my green face and wigs, or they suspect we are sex workers on a shopping spree with our newest client.
They are quick to point us towards a range of elaborate gowns. ‘How can we help?’ a glamorous woman asks softly, smiling only at Dripping-Wet Guy. ‘We have a great line in menswear.’
I take the opportunity to squint at one of the price tags on a slip of satin hanging nearby. I inhale a sharp breath and stealthily show Big Mand the tag. She lets out an anxious whine.
After a beat, I step towards Dripping-Wet Guy. ‘I was imagining a dry-cleaner’s,’ I squeak, mortified. ‘For your clothes. Not, erm, paying to replace them. I’m so sorry. I mustn’t have made myself clear. Sorry. But we’re British. Sorry. And we simply couldn’t afford to…’
It’s Dripping-Wet Guy’s turn to be embarrassed. ‘Ma’am. No. I’m the one who should apologise.’ He puts his hand to his chest. ‘I meant for her to choose an outfit. On me. For me to pay for it. Not you.’ He is genuinely rattled. ‘If that is agreeable with you.’
Liberty bites her lower lip provocatively and shifts her weight, placing her hand on her hip. ‘I find that… very agreeable.’
‘Christ,’ murmurs Big Mand. ‘Poor guy. He won’t stand a chance. I hope he has deep pockets.’
For the next few minutes, we sit through what can only be described as a one-woman catwalk show. Firstly, Liberty, who has regained full use of her senses, insists on replacement underwear.
‘For the love of God,’ complains Big Mand.
‘Put your flaps away. We’ve seen it all before.
’ But Liberty is taking no notice. It’s as though there are only two people in the room.
And it isn’t me or Big Mand. By the time Liberty is nowhere near trying on actual clothes, and Dripping-Wet Guy is salivating, and completely dry by the looks of him, Big Mand puts her hands on her knees and heaves herself up.
‘I’m going to find the others.’
‘I’ll come,’ I say, jumping up. ‘Unless you need me to stay with Libs.’ I lower my voice. ‘After all, Dripping-Wet Guy could be any old serial killer, couldn’t he? We don’t even know his name.’
Liberty is flirting up a storm as she emerges from the changing room curtain like she’s on stage at Glastonbury.
She runs her hands slowly down her body as though to smooth the barely-there material, outlining her curves in the skintight, violent-red thong basque she is trying on.
The shop assistants are being kept very busy running back and forth, as Liberty simply can’t seem to make a decision.
She’s leaning over Dripping-Wet Guy to pull at the bra cups as she jiggles her boobs into place.
Now she is showing him the back, which consists of a silver string and nothing else.
His eyes are popping out of his head. She has him eating out of her hand.
Poor man.
Liberty nods subtly towards the door to indicate we should leave her to get on with it. We silently slope away, and Dripping-Wet Guy does not even notice. As we emerge from the boutique, Cherry is being escorted towards us like a criminal, by the two burly security guards from earlier.
‘Great,’ I say. ‘You’ve found her.’ One of the security guards hands me the credit card. ‘Thank you.’
‘There’s no need for this level of micromanagement,’ she complains. ‘I was just about to win big. Really big. Just one more throw of the dice and I’d have cleaned up.’
The security guard shakes his head behind her and shoots me a warning look. ‘We’ll take her from here, officer,’ I say, as though he’s the police.
Big Mand loops Cherry’s arm, and we hurry away. ‘I’ll message Ged to say we’re on our way back.’
* * *
‘So, where’s Liberty?’ asks Tash an hour later.
We are sitting at a booth in the Minus5 bar, the sub-zero temperature ensuring we are all attentive and wide awake after our brief nap.
I was so disappointed to get back to my room, after having helped Ged and Big Mand carry Tash and Big Sue to their suites, to find Matteo was not back from his ‘work’ thing with Birdie and no message from him to say where he was.
At least the hotel cleaners had been in to clear the glass away and I was able to have a proper shower, apply the cream that Ged gave me to get rid of the green face and spruce myself up.
Sister Kevin is sitting beside Tash. No longer missing in action. He was already in their room, waiting. Apparently, he’d been searching everywhere and hadn’t thought to check his WhatsApp group messages.
Everyone looks refreshed.
‘Liberty has met someone,’ chips in Big Mand, and they all make an ‘aaah’ sound.
‘Well, she has been here for almost two hours,’ says Tash. ‘She’s a fast worker when she wants to be.’
‘At least it’ll take her mind off Luke,’ says Big Sue. ‘By the way, Connie, I’ll put an APB out for him. See if he shows up. We can get his full MO.’
Big Sue is still talking like she’s a fully paid-up member of the NYPD. Things are getting way too out of hand.
‘No!’ I squeal. ‘No APB, whatever that is. To be honest, I’d almost forgotten he’d followed me here. I’m sure he’ll have realised what an idiotic thing he’s done, and will most probably be at the airport, heading back home on the next flight.’
She gives me an unconvincing look as our gazes are drawn to the gigantic screens that surround the entire bar and casino area. Luke’s huge face is lighting up the screen. He smiles shyly at the camera with a huge bunch of red roses in his hand.
‘I have an announcement,’ he says. ‘This is a message to the most beautiful woman on the planet. If you can hear me, “Mi Amore Mi Amore”…’ He pauses to hold up the flowers to the camera.
He totally looks as though he’s been in hair and make-up.
‘It’s from a man who loves you from the bottom of his soul.
’ He shakes his head slowly. ‘A man who hopes you can give him a chance to get his proposal right this time…’
My heart is in my mouth. What is he doing?
‘He proposed?’ barks Tash. ‘He fucking proposed and you didn’t think to mention it?’
‘He was steaming drunk at the time,’ I say in my defence.
‘How else are you supposed to do it?’ she says, frowning.
I watch, horrified, as the camera tilts to show Luke bending down on one knee.
‘So where else than here, in the best city on the planet, Sin City’ – he stops to treat everyone watching to his self-deprecating A-list-film-star smile – ‘with all the other fools in love.’ Cue small chuckle and wink to camera.
He’s so extraordinarily comfortable in the limelight.
Perhaps from his decade on stages around the globe.
There’s no denying, the camera loves him.
He leaves a beat for his words to sink in.
He’s probably got every woman in the place swooning by now.
‘And this fool simply wants to know, will you marry him?’
There’s a huge cheer around what sounds like the whole of Las Vegas. I am instantly mortified. ‘Be here tomorrow, midnight… at the love sign’ – he pauses dramatically – ‘if your answer is yes.’
‘Oh, my fucking word!’ howls Cherry. ‘How corny.’
‘How staged,’ adds Big Mand.
‘How desperate,’ says Liberty, walking towards us, hand in hand with Dripping-Wet Guy.
‘Aw, shoot. And there’s me thinking that was romantic and charming,’ says Dripping-Wet Guy. ‘I reckon that little show of his is guaranteed to melt hearts and have the girl of his dreams running back to him quicker than a streak of lightning.’
‘I couldn’t agree more.’
Oh, shit.
Matteo is standing glaring from the screen, to me, and back again. ‘Well? Are you thinking of going?’
Matteo and I stand mutely while the group continue to express their opinions as to what my next course of action should be.
I blink slowly at Matteo. ‘Where have you been?’ I ask without answering his question.
His face immediately softens. ‘Yeah. Sorry about that. Birdie insisted on phones off as we went through some sequences she wanted to change. We lost track of time. I’ve only just escaped from her.’
He sounds tired, and a bit fed up. Thankfully, Luke’s big, handsome face disappears from the screens.
Adverts for shows and restaurants have replaced him.
I pray they don’t stick our Cocktail Hour advert up there, but it’s not meant to be.
The screen not only flashes up a life-size image of me posing while I look over my shoulder at the camera, but a loud trumpeting akin to a royal announcement blares out across the whole place.
Tash lets out an excited scream. ‘Connie, it’s you!
’ It alerts the whole bar to my presence.
Followed by, ‘You look fucking gorgeous, pet! Doesn’t she?
Look at the arse on that! Who wouldn’t want to marry those plums?
’ Which is nice but not what I need right now.
‘Wait. Are you the same girl that guy wants to marry?’ asks a passing waiter. ‘Hey, Jeff. This is the proposal girl!’ He points at me, and the bar staff all peer over. Thankfully, Jeff the bartender is busy with customers. ‘Jeff! Jeff! It’s the proposal girl!’
‘Cool,’ he says, dinging the bell. ‘Free drinks for proposal girl and all her friends!’
Oh, no.
‘No. I’m not proposal girl,’ I protest, mortified. I feel Matteo’s body tense beside me. ‘I’m not going to accept. No need for free drinks.’
There’s an outraged gasp from the Dollz and Ged and Liam.
Luckily, my plea falls on deaf ears, and any additional attention from the people in the bar is drowned out by Tash squealing because the Dollz are up on screen.
The advert guarantees a night of unforgettable singing and dancing as we promise to sweep customers off their feet if they come to see us at the Cocktail Hour club tomorrow at 6 p.m.
‘Wait,’ the waiter says again. ‘Is that you guys up there?’ He does a double take.
‘We look better when we’re not in our Barbie outfits,’ says Cherry.
‘Oh, man,’ the waiter says. ‘You’re British. We love you guys. That accent. Are you from London? I love the Barbie vibe.’
‘Well, at least some of us have made the effort,’ says Liam, who has been unusually quiet.
He looks sulkily at Liberty, who is without wig and wearing a gorgeous, slinky designer slip dress that is nothing short of spectacular on her.
‘I thought this whole trip was supposed to be about us and our pre-moon.’
I flick my eyes to Cherry, our resident paralegal with a photographic mind and unparalleled ability to quote verbatim.
Liam very famously and very recently, before we boarded the plane, ensured us that this trip wasn’t to be all about them.
She is opening her mouth ready to correct him.
Likewise, Tash, who is still peddling Sister Kevin’s BIG birthday even though he looks forty-three.
I mentally roll my eyes. Liam needs attention and he needs it right now.
Liberty is quick to leap in. She smiles at Liam before snuggling up to Dripping-Wet Guy who is no longer dripping wet but head to toe in a stylish cowboy outfit.
He has a Stetson on his head. He has Liberty all over him.
She has dressed him up to her ideal of a hot American rancher.
I am surprised he is not wearing a fake moustache.
He is obviously smitten, so that’s all that matters.
‘This is just temporary. There was an incident earlier requiring a quick change of clothes.’ She tugs shyly at her man’s arm. ‘Everyone. I’d like you to meet Hank Junior.’
Honestly, if ever there was a cowboy with a fake name, he’s got to be it.
Big Sue is first to act. ‘Hank Junior? Really?’ She pierces Hank with a sharp look. He instantly shrugs his shoulders in apology.
‘’Fraid so, ma’am. Hank’s a popular name where I come from.’
‘And where do you come from?’ asks Big Mand. She has fully recovered from earlier, after a mammoth power nap and four cans of soda.
Hank strokes his chin as though giving it some thought. ‘I guess you could say I’m from Texas originally.’
He’s not giving much away.
‘Hey now. Did you say you were celebrating?’ he asks Liam, who nods forlornly.
‘Well, I don’t know about you folks, but here in Vegas, we like to do things in style.
’ He calls to the waiter. ‘Can we please have a round of champagne? And can you bring some of that shrimp on ice and, heck, we’ll have whatever these good folk want.
Keep it coming. Charge it to my room. Thank you.
’ He flashes the waiter his key card. I see the waiter instantly redden.
‘Yes, sir. Whatever they want, whenever they want it.’
There’s a beat of silence as his words hit home.
He’s offering to buy us anything we want.
When the waiter begins to take everyone’s order, suddenly the party spirit is back in full swing.
Liberty is gazing up at her generous cowboy with huge respect.
She loves a man with a big, fat wallet. She’d probably overlook the lack of a moustache for that.
He stares back down at her for approval.
That reminds me… I have my own love interest to attend to. The whole group are now suddenly very interested in Hank Junior and his generosity. I’m sure no one will notice if Matteo and I slip away for an hour.
I feel Matteo squeeze my hand. He leans down to whisper in my ear. ‘Do you think…?’
‘Way ahead of you. Let’s go,’ I say, dragging him silently away.