Chapter 18
Matteo puts a protective arm around me, squeezing my shoulder as the footsteps grow louder.
‘We’ll have to tell them it’s all fake.’ I flap my hands about, my bouquet slapping against my dress.
‘How can we deny we’re married in front of Birdie?’ Matteo reasons smoothly. ‘If we admit it’s all fake, it’ll defeat the purpose.’
‘What will we do?’ A light film of sweat forms on my brow as I take in huge gulps of air.
Matteo takes my hand gently. ‘Breathe. It’ll be okay, I promise. Just play along and we’ll come clean with them later.’
‘I can’t!’ I wail. ‘I can’t hurt my friends’ feelings like this.’
Elvis, looking frantic and desperate to get out of here, starts to tear a strip of paper from his clipboard. ‘Well, have a nice life together.’
The Elvis music is still bellowing out. It all seems so surreal. Such happy, celebratory music against this sea of angry, perplexed faces and yelling from the group as they push through the crowd to get to us.
‘Erm, what are you all doing here?’ I yell over to them.
‘What are we doing here? What are you doing here?’ booms Big Mand, eyeing my wedding dress and flowers as they get closer.
‘It’s not what you think,’ I say to Ged and Liam as they reach me. Oh, God. They have tears in their eyes.
‘It looks a lot like you were getting married to me,’ Ged sniffs. He picks up my hand and spots the lovely, smooth, thick golden wedding band on my finger, reflecting the light.
‘No. No, we’re not,’ I explain, trying to hush him. ‘I mean, we are. But we’re not. This is all a huge misunderstanding.’
Elvis curls his lip, hooks his thumbs into his trouser waist and strikes the pose. ‘If I had a dollar for every time I heard that, lemme tell y’all.’ He lets out a deep, rumbling chuckle before bellowing, ‘Viva Las Vegas, ah-har-ha.’ He holds out the slip of paper. ‘Here you go, son.’
‘Thanks. Is that the receipt?’ Matteo says dazedly, taking it from him just as everyone gathers closely around us.
Elvis laughs. ‘No, son. Why, that’s your wedding certificate.’ His voice really does carry considering the music and the disgruntled chatter from my friends and the screaming bride in the other gondola.
‘Our what now?’ Matteo says, snapping into business mode. His eyes scan the document. He instinctively tries to give it back to him.
Elvis sticks both his hands up. ‘You’ll need to show that if anyone asks if you’re legally wed.’ He rolls his eyes. ‘Lordy, you young folks and your internet. It’s like you don’t know what to do with a piece of paper. Don’t worry, we’ll email a copy to you.’
‘But we opted for the…’ I hiss from the side of my mouth, trying to keep my voice from carrying over to Birdie, who is hovering at the back of the group. ‘For the pretend renewal of the vows option. The non-legal version.’
Elvis flicks through his clipboard.
‘Nope. You young ’uns ticked this box.’ Elvis shows me and Matteo the box that we ticked. ‘And you signed right here.’
Fuck me.
‘Yeah,’ chimes Cherry, poking her head between us to speedily read the page. ‘You’re married alright. That’s an official document and those signatures give this overweight Elvis lookalike the authority to marry you.’
‘Viva Las Vegas and congratulations on your matrimonial life together,’ says Elvis, scurrying away. ‘I have another happy couple to officiate in five minutes.’
He leaves us standing there. Facing everyone. I turn to Matteo. He looks stunned.
Elvis has left the building.
‘You’re married!’ shrieks Liam. ‘You got married without us! You are our best woman. The person we trust most in the whole world. The only person we asked. We wanted you to play the biggest part in our wedding because you are our family. Apparently, you don’t feel the same.’ He bursts into tears.
Then Ged gives me a desolate look, and he also bursts into tears.
Then I burst into tears.
Then Matteo yells, ‘What the fuck is happening here?’
Then Cherry tells him off.
Then Birdie screams that she’ll never work with Matteo ever again.
‘And you can fuck off as well, pet,’ Cherry tells her in between biting off chunks of her sugar rope. ‘Go on, you miserable cow. Sling yer hook.’
Birdie is fuming and releases a tirade of what we all presume are French expletives at Matteo, before she whips her coral-coloured hair violently over her shoulder and stamps away on her skinny legs.
Matteo immediately stiffens beside me. This scenario is escalating unnecessarily.
Liberty, Tash and Sister Kevin are the only ones to find it hilariously funny.
‘I love weddings,’ says Sister Kevin, grinning down at Tash.
‘Congratulations, Big Guy,’ says Big Sue, patting me woefully on the back.
‘Yeah, Big Guy,’ says Liberty, trying her best not to howl with laughter.
‘Congratulations. I hope you’ll both be very happy.
’ She attempts to give me a hug but I’m too upset to respond.
Instead, she leans in. ‘Don’t worry. I’m just joking.
We’ll fix this, Connie, babes. We’ll take care of it. I promise.’
‘Take care of it.’ Cherry inhales sharply. ‘Guys. I’ve just remembered something.’ She turns to Liberty. ‘You sound just like Hank Junior.’
Oh, God.
My head snaps up. ‘Where is Hank Junior?’ I ask suddenly.
Liberty shrugs. ‘He’s gone to take care of something, he said.’
‘He’s gone to take care of something?’ I dart a look at Matteo.
‘Uh-huh,’ Liberty says. ‘Why?’
Cherry presses her fingers to her temples. ‘I overheard him on the phone last night in the club. Said he was making a hit for someone. And that he was taking care of it. Hang on. Where did I get this?’ Cherry says, distracted by the rope she’s been chewing the whole time. ‘What even is it?’
‘Where did he say he was going?’ Matteo asks Liberty, a look of incredulity washing over him.
‘He didn’t say,’ Liberty says.
‘Fucking hell. I can’t believe this is happening!’ Matteo drags his hands slowly down his face. It seems as though we’ve found his tipping point. To be fair, it is way higher than mine.
How could I get so swept up in everything that I forgot that Liberty put an accidental hit out on Luke?
I grab Liberty’s arms. ‘Tell Hank Junior that the Luke situation has already been taken care of.’
‘What do you mean?’ she says, confused.
‘Hank,’ I say. ‘He told me and Matteo not to worry about Luke because he would take care of it, you know, as in…’ I jiggle my head.
Big Sue and Big Mand are suddenly very interested in this swift change of topic. ‘What’s the ten four?’ she asks me, her face serious.
I gulp. ‘How do I explain this?’
‘Quietly,’ says Big Sue. ‘We’re in the middle of Las Vegas’s busiest hotel with cameras and microphones hidden all over the place. Capeesh?’
Is there really any need for this level of paranoia?
‘There aren’t any in our room, we’ve checked,’ says Tash, winking at Sister Kevin.
‘Look, Connie. What the hell are you going on about?’ says Liberty, shrugging out of my grip.
‘I think you accidentally put a hit out on Luke,’ I say to her.
‘No, I didn’t. I just told Hank about Luke, and he asked me if I wanted him to… take care of… the situation…’ She trails off. Her hand flies to her mouth. ‘Oh, shit.’
At the mention of Hank Junior, Cherry suddenly springs back into the game. ‘Yes. Libs. Hank Junior literally said he made hits for a living and laughed about it. I thought he meant records. What does he really do? Did he say?’
Liberty shrugs, shaking her head.
‘Cherry, do they still hang people here? Even if they’re British?’ Big Mand asks.
‘You’ve all just confessed to being accessories to murder,’ says Cherry, her eyes darting up and around. She has gone very pale. ‘They fry people in the electric chair here. I’m going to be sick… again.’
Liberty puts a hand to her chest. ‘And I think I’m going to…’ Her eyelids clang shut. Like a toppling tree, she falls backwards towards the canal. Big Sue, renowned for her agility and speed, dives to catch her and lays her gently on the ground.
‘Right. Get her flat on her back with her legs in the air,’ booms Big Mand. ‘High in the air. That’s it.’
‘So, just put her in her favourite position then?’ says Sister Kevin, winking at Big Mand, even though this is very clearly not a winking-type scenario and is wildly inappropriate.
Tash elbows him sharply in the ribs. Poor Sister Kevin. He’s always just out of sync. On any other day we’d have laughed this off, and perhaps mentioned that Liberty often brags that reverse cowgirl is her favourite position, on account of her having two round apples for bum cheeks. But not today.
‘Never a dull moment, is there?’ trills Tash. She looks borderline deranged. ‘Come. Come along,’ she squeaks to Sister Kevin, as though he’s a chihuahua. ‘Come. Come with me. Come. Let’s leave them to this madness. I don’t believe one word of it.’
Sister Kevin, who could be undercover police for all we know about him, holds up a hand. ‘Everyone stay right where you are.’
Thank the Lord. Maybe he is the police. He’s the right shape. He can confirm our bungling innocence to Interpol.
He draws himself up to his full height. He is a veritable man-mountain, oozing calm and confidence. He looks us all in the eye with absolute assurance.
Such a relief.
‘I saw this sort of thing happen in a film once. Maybe Die Hard, or was it one of the Bournes? But the most important thing to do is not panic.’
His words roll over us like tumbleweed, sucking the hope from our very souls.
Feckin useless. Unbelievably shitting, effing, bollocksing useless.
Tears prickle my eyes, blurring my vision. It’s not his fault he’s a buffoon. ‘Thank you,’ I whisper, all the strength draining from my voice.
Matteo stands rigid, staring at him, opening and closing his eyes slowly and repetitively as though he is hoping to blink himself awake from this nightmare.
‘I think you’d better take him with you, Tash,’ barks Big Sue, taking charge. ‘We need to workshop this mess.’
Big Sue towers over Liberty, while Tash yanks Sister Kevin away from the scene.
Cherry rummages through Liberty’s bag and pulls out her phone. There follows an awkward few minutes, while the phone refuses to recognise Liberty’s unconscious face, even though Big Sue and Big Mand are holding open her eyelids while Cherry hovers over her.
‘What are we doing?’ Liam frets.
‘Hank Junior’s phone number,’ says Big Sue in answer. ‘Could save us a lot of trouble. She can tell him the target has already been neutralised. He is to stand down. He needs to cease and desist.’
Of course. So simple. A wave of gratitude for quick-thinking Big Sue envelops me.
‘We’re in,’ says Cherry, flicking quickly through Liberty’s contacts, while Big Mand gently slaps her face.
‘No. No. No,’ mumbles Cherry. ‘Christ, who’s PhatDawg? Her contacts read like a who’s who of Pornhub. There’s no Hank Junior. And no recent calls made or received. He mustn’t have given her his number. And no spicy pics of the two of them either. Typical hitman behaviour.’
‘No wonder he didn’t want to be in any of the photos,’ I say, remembering the High Roller.
Liberty lets out a quiet groan and winces as she comes to, then immediately snatches her phone back. ‘We didn’t need to ring each other because we’ve barely been out of each other’s sight since we met.’ She rubs her head. ‘And PhatDawg is my plumber, you cheeky bitch.’
‘Libs, hun, where do you think Hank Junior might be?’ Big Sue asks Liberty.
‘He could be anywhere,’ she croaks, trying to sit up. ‘My ankle. I think I’ve twisted it.’
We let this information percolate. It is not good.
Liam is still very tearful as I walk over to him. ‘I’m so sorry, Liam.’ I hang my head in shame. ‘It was only supposed to be a fake marriage. Something to throw Luke and Birdie off our scent.’
‘She’s right,’ says Matteo, behind me. ‘We never meant for anyone else to see us. You all seemed so busy with other things, we didn’t want to hijack your special week.
We just wanted to spend a bit of time getting to know each other…
alone.’ He sighs heavily. ‘It doesn’t matter now because, apparently, we’re legally married.
We’ve got the rest of our lives to get to know each other.
’ He waves the certificate around, his voice rising with each word.
‘And we’re also caught up in a potential murder, so what does any of it matter anyway, in the grand scheme of things? ’
‘So, you’re saying our being married doesn’t matter?’ My voice comes out shrill. My eyes have overfilled again. A solitary tear spills down my cheek.
‘I didn’t say that,’ Matteo says, annoyed.
‘You did,’ says Cherry. ‘We all heard you.’
Suddenly there’s an atmosphere between us.
‘Look, the wedding is the least of our worries,’ says Matteo through tight lips.
‘Can we… just sort out Hank Junior first? Then we’ll all sit down and talk about what to do next.
But Liam, Ged, none of this was Connie’s idea.
It was all mine. Don’t be angry with her.
This ridiculous mess is all my fault. I pushed her into it. ’
‘Well, technically, it was my idea,’ corrects Cherry.
‘You didn’t push me into it,’ I say sharply. ‘I wanted to marry you. And I thought you wanted to marry me.’
Matteo gives me an exasperated look.
‘None of this is helping,’ booms Big Mand as she heaves a barely mobile Liberty up and over her shoulder. ‘Come on. Why don’t you two give each other some space? We can point fingers later.’
‘Fine, yes,’ Matteo agrees, a little too readily for my liking. He is no longer holding my hand or gazing at me in a star-struck fashion.
Why does he need space? From me? We’ve only been married two minutes.
‘And that’s the forty-five minutes up,’ says a man with a video camera.
He smiles at Matteo. He is wearing a ‘Weddings at The Venetian’ polo shirt and an amused expression.
‘You can have as many stills from this footage as you like as part of the wedding package,’ he explains cheerily.
‘As well as footage from the onboard gondola video camera, of course. We’ll email you the links, and you do it all on the website. ’
We stand, stunned, as he bends to snap shut his equipment and pack it away at lightning speed. He scuttles off through the crowd with his tripod over his shoulder, as though this bizarre scene is very much his normal day-to-day experience of Vegas weddings.
‘Fuck me.’ Matteo rakes a hand through his hair, the other holding our wedding certificate. ‘This day just keeps on giving.’ He sounds exhausted with it all, and I can’t blame him, but his words cut right through me.
Deep breaths.
Deep breaths.