by Lindsey Kelk
‘So –’ I peered through my jumper – ‘what exactly were you drinking last night?’
‘Jagerbombs?’ Jenny winced. ‘Tequila? Whiskey? All of the above?’
‘Sounds perfect,’ I said. ‘Make mine a double.’
CHAPTER ELEVEN
‘It’s my own fault,’ I slurred into my cocktail. ‘I should have thought about this earlier. I should have thought about this before.’
‘Noooo.’ Jenny rubbed my hair vigorously. ‘No, because, like, when things are going good, you know, you, like, don’t think about, you know, bad stuff. You know?’
‘I totally know.’ I held my glass up for an enthusiastic toast. ‘And things were going good. Things were awesome. Things were the bestest ever things. And now it’s all gone to shit.’
‘Ever ever,’ Jenny agreed.
‘With work and with boys and with you and just with me and everything.’ I sipped my martini and tried not to slurp. It was delicious. Even more delicious than the first three. ‘And now it’s all shit. It’s just shit.’
‘It is not!’ Jenny signalled for the bartender to refill our glasses. He nodded and passed two fresh drinks across the bar. What a pro. We’d been propping up the bar in the Bellagio for some time, and while I wasn’t feeling any better about my situation, I was finding it harder to remember precisely what that situation was, so that was a plus.
‘Things are awesome, Angie, they are. You’ve got Alex. You’ve got me. We haven’t gone to shit.’
‘Well, even if I have to leave, you’ve still got Sadie,’ I sniffed, missing my mouth with an olive. Probably best.
‘Whaa?’ Jenny slapped my shoulder. ‘Don’t be a dumbass.’
The bartender smiled.
‘It’s true. You’ve got Sadie, and let’s face it, she’s going to be a lot more fun than me. When was the last time I did a jagerbomb? I don’t even know what a jagerbomb is. And she’s, you know, younger. And prettier. And cooler. And blah blah blah.’
‘Blah blah yourself, dumbass.’ She slammed her empty glass down on the bar. ‘You’re jealous of Sadie?’
‘I’m jealous of everyone,’ I wailed. It was all coming out now. ‘I’m jealous of Sadie because she has you. I’m jealous of you because you have an amazing job and an amazing boyfriend. I’m jealous of Erin because she’s having a baby. I’m jealous of Louisa because she’s having a baby and I’m not there. Everyone’s life is moving on except mine. All I have is a martini.’ I looked up at the bartender and tried to give him my best smile. ‘And it is an excellent martini, sir. Just, very good.’
‘Aw, Angie, that’s such bull.’ Jenny shoved her hand in between my glass and my face, leaving me with a mouthful of cocktail ring. ‘You’re just freaking out because of this visa shit, and we’re gonna make that OK. Your life is totally moving forward.’
‘How? How is it moving forward?’
‘You’re living with your boyfriend, you know what you want out of life, and you’re trying to get it. That’s moving forward.’
‘I’m living with my boyfriend, I don’t have a job, I’m writing a blog no one is reading and I don’t know what country I’m going to be living in this time next month. I’ve literally gone back in time eighteen months.’
‘Except now your boyfriend is awesome and not a cheating asshole,’ Jenny rallied. ‘And you’ve achieved so much. We just have to work out how to put that experience into practice. And we will. Just, dude, not today.’
‘I know.’ I leaned over the bar and rested my head on my arms. ‘I know. And I’m not really jealous, honest. I’m just feeling a bit lost. I’m really happy for you.’
Jenny pinched at the latex covering on her legs and gave me a half-smile. ‘Thanks, doll.’
‘And you deserve it. You work so hard. And after the whole Jeff thing –’ I held her hands and pulled a face – ‘you deserve to be happy. So happy. So, so, so happy.’
‘Thanks, doll.’
‘Sigge’s so awesome. And yes, I know I thought he was gay when you met him, but yeah. He’s not.’
The bartender laughed.
‘He’s really lovely. And hot. And funny. And is he clever? I bet he’s clever. I know he’s a model, but I bet he’s clever. And he’s not gay.’
‘Angie, honey, you’re rambling.’
I was rambling.
Jenny had adopted the same expression I’d seen when Ben had given her the garment bag.
‘Not gay.’ I waved an imaginary flag in the air. ‘Yay.’
‘Yay.’ She finally gave me a smile. ‘Total yay.’
‘You are happy, aren’t you? Because you should be. Your life is so sorted, I … God, what do I want to say?’ I mined my limited vocabulary for the words I needed. ‘I admire you. You’re my hero.’
‘Oh, Angie.’ Jenny rested her hand on top of mine. ‘I am not a good hero.’
‘Shut up.’ I wasn’t having any of it. ‘They should put you on T-shirts and give them to little girls. They should want to be you. I want to be you.’
‘With my ass?’ She gave me a wry smile. ‘You wouldn’t last a day. I know for a fact you wouldn’t survive my morning run. And then you wouldn’t be able to eat. Or drink. And then you would have to throw yourself in the East River.’
I gazed into the drink in front of me.
‘Fair point. But honestly, I just … I love you, Jenny Lopez. You are my best friend. Sometimes I feel so guilty because, you know, Louisa has always, you know, been my best friend. But you’re just as important as she is. More. I can tell you anything and I know you’ll never judge me or have a go, you’ll just understand. That’s amazing.’
Jenny looked at me with her big brown eyes, which were considerably less bloodshot than they were the last time I’d looked into them but just as hazy. Afternoon drinking was the worst. Slash best.
‘You mean that?’ Her bloodshot eyes started to tear up.
‘Yes.’ I nodded once to confirm. ‘I do. Totally. You are so my go-to human for any and all things. Happy things, sad things, difficult things. You know that bit in Sex and the City? Where Carrie gets her diaphragm stuck and Sam has to help her – you know?’
‘I do know.’ Jenny wrinkled her little nose.
‘If you got your diaphragm stuck and you absolutely could not go to a hospital or Sigge for help and had tried loads of times, I would absolutely help you.’
‘Angela.’ She pressed her hands against her mouth. ‘That is the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me.’
‘Any time,’ I said, raising my glass and waiting for Jenny to do the same.
‘And I would totally remove your birth control,’ she replied with a clink. ‘Any day of the week.’
The bartender looked uncomfortable.
‘If I couldn’t get it out,’ I explained. ‘Of my vagina.’
‘Shots, ladies?’ he offered. ‘On the house?’
What a lovely man. I accepted my shot with a nod, a smile and a shiver as the tequila coursed its way down my throat. Well. Tonight was going to be interesting.
‘We should get a cab,’ I mumbled as we staggered down the Strip an hour later. We were late to meet Sadie back at the hotel, and I for one did not want to deal with her sour-puss if we were any later. Jenny was not fast on her feet, and I wasn’t entirely sure where we were going. The lovely, ever-present limo had chosen now to go AWOL, and so we were stranded in the middle of Las Vegas, ambling towards a big white building in the near distance. ‘I feel like we’ve been walking for ever.’
‘We’re still outside the Bellagio,’ Jenny pointed out. ‘Everything looks closer because it’s so huge. The De Lujo is only next door, it’s just that next door is, like, it’s far.’ She held her hands apart to indicate distance, in case far was too foreign a concept for me to grasp. It was fair – I was a bit drunk. The fresh air had happily had a sobering effect on me, so I was able to hold it together. Unfortunately it had gone the other way for Ms Lopez; she was looking greener by the second.
‘Le
t’s watch the fountains,’ she suggested, grabbing at the wall by the lake and sitting down before I could give her a yay or nay. We were watching the fountains, then.
I pulled out my phone to text Alex, but it was still open on my inbox. The orgy of rejection made me suck my breath in sharply. Jenny was right. There was another way. I just had no idea what it was. Unless it really was time to talk to Alex.
‘What’re you doing?’ Jenny pawed at my phone, grabbing it away. ‘Dude, do not look at these emails. You will bring us down. You will kill my buzz.’
‘Your buzz is already sickly.’ I held my hand out for my phone. ‘Give.’
‘So you can throw a pity party all the way back to the hotel? Nuh-uh.’ She opened her handbag on her knee, looked up at me with her best ‘I dare you to stop me’ face, and tossed the phone into the bottom of her bag. Except she missed. And I watched as my phone sailed merrily through the air and splashed into the Bellagio fountains, its landing dwarfed by an enormous geyser, synchronized perfectly to ‘It’s the Most Wonderful Time of the Year’.
‘Oh crap.’
It was the second phone I’d lost to a body of water, but this was the first one I hadn’t hurled myself. This time, it was not nearly as satisfying.
‘It’s OK.’ Jenny kicked off her boots and thrust her bag at me. ‘I’ll get it.’
‘Jenny, no!’ I reached out to grab her, but I was far too slow. Or maybe I didn’t want to stop her enough. Before I could even get to my feet, she was waist-deep in lake Bellagio, eyes down, looking for my phone.
‘Ew, this shit’s nasty,’ she called. ‘I can’t see a thing.’
‘Jenny, get out.’ I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. ‘You’ll get arrested.’
‘Fuck that, I’m looking for your phone,’ she shouted back. ‘They can’t arrest me for being awesome.’
They might not have been able to arrest her, but she was certainly drawing a crowd. The admirable fountains stayed true to the old showbiz adage and the show went on while Jenny fished for a phone to the tune of ‘White Christmas’.
‘Ha,’ she called, holding it up triumphantly. I was actually quite impressed. ‘I totally found it. That is way better than taking out your diaphragm, right?’
‘Theoretical diaphragm,’ I explained to a baseball-cap and bum-bag-wearing couple beside me. ‘No need to look so scared. She’s my best friend.’
I leaned over the wall and held out my hand. ‘Come here,’ I said, grabbing her wrist as she attempted to cock a leg over the wall and haul herself out of the water. ‘You climbed over a seven-foot toilet partition last night, and now you can’t get over a three-foot wall?’
‘I’m wet,’ she stated unnecessarily.
‘I noticed,’ I replied, trying to get a firmer grip. It was impossible – she was too slippery.
‘Here, I’ll get a hold of you,’ she said, taking hold of a wrist with each hand. ‘Now you pull.’
But before I could yank her out, I felt her slip, all of her bodyweight shifting backwards. Every sodden inch of her collapsing into the water and dragging me over the wall and into the water with her.
My first instinct was purely survival oriented. Must save the Marc Jacobs. I held my bag aloft, trying desperately to keep it out of the water while I kicked and splashed around trying to stay upright. In the fountain. Outside the Bellagio. While Christmas carols belted out in the background and fountains performed an elegant, synchronized display. It was official. Geysers were more graceful than me.
‘Well, I think I’m sober now.’
Beside me, the drowned rat formerly known as Jenny Lopez wiped at the giant panda patches that had taken over her face. I picked up her sunglasses as they sailed past and handed them over.
‘Thanks.’ She slid them on and nodded. ‘Much better. Shall we?’
‘Let’s.’
With great effort, we waded through the fountain towards the growing crowds on the pavement.
‘OK, people, nothing to see here,’ Jenny shouted as she heaved her sodden self over the wall and collapsed onto the floor. She was the world’s skinniest beached whale. I hoisted myself up and over, dropping my dripping bag on the floor beside me. Ruined. It was ruined. I’d process the fact that I’d just dived head first into a fountain in public in my clothes later. La Dolce Vitathis was not.
‘Hey, Angela.’ I turned my head to see Jenny, still spread-eagled on the sidewalk, face covered in mascara, holding something out to me. ‘Your phone.’
I took it, slipped it into my handbag and stared up at the sky.
‘Thanks. Appreciate it.’
‘Don’t say I never do anything for you.’
After a very sorry, sodden walk back to the hotel, we finally made it into the lift along with a very confused-looking family. Mum and Dad did their best not to look at us, but their two sons weren’t so constrained by the rules of polite society.
‘What?’ Jenny asked the oldest, really quite loudly, after fifteen floors of straight staring. ‘Yeah, that’s right. I’ll give you something to cry for,’ she shouted as they made a hasty exit two floor later.
‘Jenny –’ I said, trying not to smile.
‘Fuck ’em,’ she replied.
I couldn’t really argue with her.
Back in the suite, we found a huge rack of clothing from Ben, a bottle of chilled champagne and a note from Sadie telling us to meet her at Tryst by midnight, our names were on the guest list. I didn’t think I’d ever been so relieved. There was no way I could have coped with watching her perky arse bounce around the room when all I wanted to do was collapse in the bath and have a nap. Almost drowning in a fountain really put things into perspective. After briefly perusing the racks, reading the note and silently retching at the sight of the champagne, Jenny nodded silently and headed straight into her room. I followed suit, locking my door behind me.
As I ran my bath I thought hard. Based on this afternoon’s emails, I was not going to be able to apply for a media visa. Realistically, I was not going to become an alien of extraordinary ability within the next three weeks. I needed a plan B. The thought of losing Alex, of going back home with my tail between my legs, hurt my heart more than looking at my poor, poor bag. And that hurt a lot. I stretched my arms up high above my head, feeling the last few trickles of cold water run down my back, peeled off my wet clothes like layers of skin and settled myself in the bath while the warm water rose all around me. A much more pleasant aquatic experience.
Maybe Jenny had been right all along. Maybe I was being stupid about this. I should just sit Alex down and explain. It was just paperwork. We would go to city hall, sign something, go home and not even think about it again. And if the time came when we decided we wanted to do it properly, and it had bloody well better, we would. We’d just have a proper wedding and not mention to anyone that, technically, we were already husband and wife. It wasn’t a big deal. It didn’t have to be a big deal.
Except it was. But did it have to be? I was a girl. I was having girl emotions. Alex was a man, he would be practical and reasonable. And it couldn’t hurt to talk about it, could it? I let out a long, slow sigh and dipped my hair under the water, the cold fighting against the heat for just a second before I was glowing from the top of my head to the tip of my toes. But inside, my bones still felt cold.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Without a working phone, I hadn’t heard from Alex, but I did know he was going to be at the Wynn and, happily, so were we. Jenny had informed me, while backcombing her hair until it was big enough to warrant its own orbit, that Tryst at the Wynn was the only club to be seen at on a Friday night. Other than LAX, Pure or Moon. Or Marquee. And to a lesser extent XS and Jet. But since Sadie had us on the guest list for Tryst, there was only one winner.
After a bath-nap-shower combo, I was feeling almost human again, and I had nervous energy to spare when I thought about seeing Alex. Or, more to the point, when I thought about Alex seeing me in my outfit. Jenny had insisted I wear the Dolce s
tar-spangled Band-Aid and over-the-knee boots, and I had given in. My hair had been forced into loose, bed-head waves, and in case people didn’t assume slut as soon as they saw my outfit, I was wearing more MAC Blacktrack eyeliner than I knew existed. Obviously Jenny had been in charge of my make-up, so it managed to somehow err just on the right side of RuPaul. Light pinkish gloss and flawless foundation balanced out the eye make-up, so I didn’t quite look like Alice Cooper. Not quite. Maybe by morning.
Jenny, of course, looked like a cosmetics commercial. Instead of my uncompromising black, her chocolate eyes were lined with various shades of bronze and brown, specs of gold lighting up her whole face. Sheer peach cheeks and matching gloss only heightened the luminous effect. It was as though she had her own lighting person constantly diffusing any harsh rays that might stumble across her face. One day, one day, I would manage that effect myself. Until then, it was racoon eyes for me. At least it covered up the real dark circles.
‘Ready?’ Jenny asked, shuffling the hem of her dress around under her bottom.
‘Ready,’ I confirmed. ‘Are you sure about going to Tryst?’
‘Um, yes?’ She looked up. ‘The dress isn’t too much?
‘I would wear that everywhere, every day if I looked like you right now,’ I replied. The more I stared at her, the more incredible she looked. From one side, the dress looked like nothing more than a fitted black mini, long sleeves, high neck cut to hug every curve. But when she turned to give me the full frontal, the solid black fabric drew across her waist in a point, whittling it away to nothing. The rest of the dress was made of beautiful, delicate lace lined with silk the exact shade of Jenny’s honeyed skin. ‘But really, Tryst? Should we absolutely positively be going to the hotel Jeff is staying at?’
‘So it’s a thumbs-up?’ She gave me a spin, picked up her purse and ignored my question. ‘Let’s go.’
‘Jenny –’ I blocked her path to the lift. ‘Jeff?’