I Heart Vegas

by Lindsey Kelk

  ‘Hey, it’s me, I’m on Jenny’s phone.’ I examined my fingernails and frowned. I was in need of a manicure, desperately. This hand was not wedding-ring ready.

  ‘Good to have her number,’ Alex replied. ‘That girl needs to be kept on a leash.’

  ‘I know.’ I silently reprimanded myself and shoved my hand into my jeans pocket. Horse then cart, not cart before horse. ‘She says hi.’

  ‘She’s there? I won’t ask what happened this morning then. Until tonight. We still on for later?’

  Number three hundred and forty-two on the Reasons I Loved Alex list. He was a secret gossip. He could pretend he wasn’t all day long, he could turn his nose up at as many copies of Us Weeklyas he liked, but it didn’t find its way into the bathroom on its own and I certainly didn’t take it in there. Often.

  ‘We’re still on. I actually have a couple of things to talk to you about.’

  Like, how much we’re supposed to tip our doorman for Christmas and also, whether or not you would like to marry me. Immediately.

  ‘Did you steal eighty million dollars?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Marry Elvis?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Steal Mike Tyson’s tiger?’

  ‘Yes, but that’s not what I wanted to talk to you about.’

  A vision of Alex in a white jumpsuit with a giant quiff popped up far too easily. He could totally rock a quiff.

  ‘Where d’you want to go?’ he asked, putting my fantasy right back in its box. ‘Anywhere you’re desperate to hit up?’

  I went through my mental list. Sharks at Mandalay Bay. Lions at MGM. White tigers at the Mirage. The Forum shops at Caesars. The all-you-can-eat buffet anywhere. The more I thought about it, the more it seemed like my ideal vacation spot was actually the café inside the gift shop at the Bronx Zoo. Unless …

  ‘The Venetian?’ I suggested. Was there a better setting to propose a marriage of convenience than a casino modelled on the most romantic city in the world? A fraudulent marriage in a fraudulent Venice. Perfect. And excellent positive thinking on my part.

  ‘Awesome. They have a great casino.’ I’d forgotten about his secret love of gambling. Going crazy on the blackjack table wasn’t really in my plan. ‘Not that we’re going to spend all night gambling,’ he added quickly. ‘Although I feel like you might be kind of a good luck charm.’

  ‘Have we not met?’ I ran a hand through my hair. Ew. Helicopter head. It needed washing. ‘Is earlyish OK? I promised Jenny we’d go out later, what with it being the last night and everything.’

  ‘So I’m the warm-up act – nice,’ he said with a smile in his voice that I hoped would still be there after our conversation. ‘Of course. The guys have some big crazy night planned and if I’m not there, I’m pretty sure his best man will hunt me down and kill me. Dude is intense.’

  ‘So, seven-thirty? At the Venetian?’

  ‘Done and done. Can’t wait.’

  ‘You’re meeting at the Venetian?’ Jenny asked when I handed the phone back. ‘Awesome. We should get dinner at Bouchon once you’ve done the deed. Celebrate.’

  Ever since she’d made her confession, Jenny had been a new woman. Honesty was good for the soul and also, it seemed, the complexion. She bounced around the lounge of our suite, pulling outfits from the samples Ben had sent over while I tried to avoid the mirror beside me. Neither Jenny’s confession nor the helicopter ride had been good for my soul or my complexion. I looked like death. And the racks and racks of designer ensembles made my heart hurt. Mostly because I knew we had to send them back when we left.

  ‘You sure you don’t mind?’ I sighed at a floor-length black gown and silently sobbed for my butchered blue dress. ‘Me seeing Alex, I mean.’

  ‘No way.’ She pulled out a hot pink body-con number that made me instinctively suck in my gut. ‘I need a little time to unwind before tonight. I haven’t tried to party for three nights in a row for a long time. If I don’t sleep, I might die.’

  ‘And if Jeff calls?’

  ‘Then I’ll talk to him.’ She traded the pink for an emerald-green kimono thing. Mmm, roomy. Perfect Christmas dinner dress. ‘Like you’re going to talk to Alex. Do you know what you’re going to say?’

  ‘Nope.’

  ‘Do you know what you’re going to wear?’

  At last, an important question.

  ‘I was thinking maybe the blue one I tried on yesterday.’ I flicked lovingly through the silks, satins and chiffons. So. Many. Sequins. ‘It was so pretty. And I think I could eat quite a lot in it without looking too fat.’

  ‘These are essential facts to take into account,’ Jenny nodded gravely. ‘But what about this?’

  She pulled out what might have been the most beautiful dress I had ever laid eyes on.

  ‘Tibi. You like?’ She swished the coral-pink silk in front of me. Delicate pleats fell from an empire waistline in a sartorial sigh. I wanted to marry it. I would definitely want to marry me in it. Hopefully it would have the same effect on Alex.

  ‘Sadie has some nude Choos that would go with it perfectly.’ She passed it over, fiddling around in a white cotton dustbag. ‘And you should wear this clutch.’

  It wasn’t just a clutch, it was a work of art. The bag was long and slim, lovingly made from midnight-blue velvet with a silver skull clasp. And just the right shape to use as a weapon in case I needed to beat someone to death. Something I always looked for in a handbag.

  ‘It’s McQueen,’ Jenny stated, as though it explained everything. ‘It is more precious than your life.’

  ‘Ooh.’ I held out my hands. ‘Gimme.’

  Between the dress, the bag and Sadie’s shoes, that was my outfit sorted. I smiled at myself in the mirror. Just the words to worry about now. And how hard could that be? I was a writer, for God’s sake. Ha.

  Several hours later, I arrived at the Venetian looking as good as I’d ever looked. My hair was soft, shiny and pinned back from my face, my make-up was subtle but glowing, and my dress was incredibly pretty. The fact I couldn’t really walk in Sadie’s four-inch pale gold Choos took a tad of the shine off the overall effect, but as long as I didn’t have to hobble far, we were all good. I was practising my best Lady Penelope walk when I heard someone wolf-whistle.

  Turning as quickly as my shoes would allow, I wished I had my camera. Man alive, my boyfriend was a good-looking man. He was leaning against a marble column in a suit that would have made Don Draper have a little cry. Sharp, slim, slate grey, complete with waistcoat and pocket square. I felt weak at the knees. And a lot of other feelings that were far less ladylike.

  ‘Well, hello, beautiful.’ He sauntered over and kissed me on the cheek as though we always met outside Vegas hotels dressed like characters from Mad Men. On your average day, we met outside the bathroom dressed like characters from Happy Days. Acting like characters from Happy Days.

  ‘Hi.’ I took the arm he offered and blushed. Something about his suit and my dress was having a strange effect on my hormones. ‘You look amazing.’

  ‘Why, thank you.’ He brushed imaginary fluff from his lapel. ‘I bought it today.’

  The sharp lines made his shoulders look broader and his waist even narrower, and when he did a slow spin for me, his arse looked really very lovely. ‘Did you win big or something?’

  ‘I’m up,’ he replied mysteriously. ‘We don’t have to worry about the rent this month, anyway.’

  ‘Ooh, will you buy me something pretty?’ I was never one to miss an opportunity. Or a cliché. I’d always wanted to be a gangster’s moll.

  ‘Looks like you already bought yourself something pretty.’ He nodded appreciatively at my dress. ‘It’s nearly as cute as you.’

  ‘Whatever,’ I laughed and shook my head. Beaming.

  He paused, cupped my face in his hands and leaned down to kiss me properly. ‘You look beautiful,’ Alex whispered. ‘Whether you like it or not, OK?’

  ‘OK,’ I mumbled. ‘Thank you.’


  Damn you, hereditary inability to take a compliment.

  Once we’d established how pretty we both looked, Alex resumed position, leading me through the Venetian to I didn’t know where.

  ‘I’m not entirely sure when I’m going to wear it back in Brooklyn, but hey, it’s a suit, right? There’s always a reason to have a suit.’

  ‘We’ll have to go to lots of terribly fashionable cocktail bars in the city,’ I suggested. ‘Or we’ll throw a party or something.’

  ‘Yeah, someone will get married eventually –’ He held the door open – ‘and I can’t turn up at another wedding in my jeans.’

  The mere mention of the ‘W’ word was enough to quicken my pulse to double-time. My heart was pounding to the point of panic attack and we weren’t even inside yet.

  ‘I guess we’re gonna have to go to Jeff’s wedding, actually,’ he carried on, completely unaware of my impending stroke. ‘Now I’m in the wolf pack.’

  ‘He did not call it that.’

  ‘He did,’ Alex confirmed sadly. ‘One of the guys had T-shirts made, but we made an executive decision not to wear them since, you know, we’re not twenty-one.’

  ‘Boys on Tour.’ I couldn’t see Alex in a screen-printed stag-do T-shirt any more than I could see Jenny in a pink glittery cowgirl hat, draped in L plates, adorned with penis deeley boppers. Actually, that was a lie. She’d love that. ‘They didn’t mind you hanging out with me?’

  ‘Please refer to the “we are not twenty-one” comment,’ he replied. ‘And yeah, the best man sulked a little, but Jeff was cool with it. He wanted a little alone time too.’

  ‘As long as he is alone.’ I thought back to Jenny’s Grand Canyon meltdown. ‘Things are a mess.’

  ‘So I’m guessing it wasn’t just a one-off thing?’ Alex asked as we strolled through the casino. I pretended not to see his eyes darting from table to table.

  ‘Nope, it’s been going on for a while,’ I said, trying hard not to be distracted myself. ‘How did you know?’

  ‘Female intuition. And Jeff kind of tried to explain this morning.’

  ‘He did? What did he say?’ I was fascinated to hear the boy’s side of things. It was like listening in on a secret conversation. That hardly ever made sense.

  ‘That they had some stuff to work out, that there’s some history there. I told him I didn’t need to know and we left it there.’ He looked perfectly happy with this conclusion. ‘The guy was clearly uncomfortable.’

  ‘Well, yeah,’ I agreed while silently sulking that he wasn’t nearly nosy enough for my liking. ‘We don’t have to talk about it.’

  ‘Right.’

  ‘Right.’

  As we passed through the hotel, I couldn’t stop staring at the people hanging around on the casino floor. It seemed like the entire world had descended on the Venetian to get their gamble on. Row after row of shiny slot machines were manned by row after row of glassy-eyed women, one hand hovering over the shuffle button, elaborate cocktail in the other, giant cup of quarters nestled between their knees.

  The tables were another story altogether. It took me a moment to work out why the outfits improved as the tables got smaller, but then it clicked. The lower-limit tables were bigger and the gamblers were squeezed more closely together, all jeans, T-shirts and bum-bags. The high-roller tables were smaller and more spacious, with a clientele all suited and booted, even this early in the evening, and while there weren’t too many women at the tables, there were plenty around. The general rule seemed to be, the higher the limit, the lower the neckline. Regardless of how many thousands of dollars or cents were up for grabs, the hooting and hollering was universal. It made Planet of the Apes look like a civilized affair. Maybe I didn’t need to visit the zoo after all.

  ‘So it’s an actual affair?’ Alex broke my train of thought with the word we do not use. ‘He didn’t really say how long it had been going on.’

  Ha, I knew he would break.

  ‘It’s something.’ I couldn’t stand the word affair. It was just a fancied-up word for cheating, dressing up something terrible as romantic, passionate and understandable. The English language equivalent of lipstick on a pig. ‘I don’t think Jenny even knows.’

  ‘So she doesn’t know what’s going on, but she’s still sleeping with an almost married man.’ Alex made a very distinct clucking noise in the back of his throat. Not unlike something my mum might do. ‘Classy.’

  Sometimes, just sometimes, boys could be total arseholes.

  ‘And Jeff isn’t to blame in the slightest?’ I could feel my hackles rising.

  ‘Sure he could have said no, but so could she. She’s the one who chased him to Vegas.’

  ‘She didn’t chase him to Vegas.’ Although she sort of did. ‘She’s really struggling with this, you know.’

  ‘Then why doesn’t she just stop?’ he asked. ‘Instead of taking advantage of his cold feet.’

  I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.

  ‘So this is all Jenny’s fault? The man who is actually engaged to another women but still pursued his ex, telling her he loved her, telling her he would cancel the wedding if she broke up with her boyfriend, has got nothing to do with it?’ I was quite aware that my voice was very, very high and just the teensiest bit psychotic, but I did not care. This was bullshit.

  ‘That’s what she told you?’ he laughed. ‘You believe her?’

  ‘Of course I believe her.’ I stopped and all but stamped my little foot and almost lost a Choo in the process.

  ‘All I’m saying is, Jeff is still getting married. I’m here for his bachelor party?’ Alex turned to place reassuring hands on my shoulders but I shook them off. I didn’t want to be reassured, I wanted him to apologize for being a knob. ‘And Jenny is kind of a loose cannon when it comes to guys. Specifically Jeff.’

  ‘Because you have always conducted yourself impeccably in all matters of the heart and trousers?’ I slapped his arm, hard.

  ‘Wow.’ Alex took a step back, his Don Draper hair coming undone and falling in front of his pissed-off face. ‘We’re going there?’

  There wasn’t enough time to listen to all the voices in my head before I had to say something. I really didn’t want to pick a fight about Jenny, about Jeff, about Alex’s slutty, slutty past or anything else, but I couldn’t not defend my friend. He was completely out of order.

  ‘No.’ I rubbed my forehead, trying desperately to reverse out of this cul-de-sac of bullshit. ‘But you can’t honestly believe that this is all so incredibly black and white? You can’t actually be placing all the blame on Jenny.’

  ‘She loves drama – you know she loves drama.’ The smile was completely gone from his voice. ‘What’s more dramatic than some tortured affair with a married man?’

  ‘And the fact that he’s trying to emotionally blackmail her into breaking up with Sigge?’ We had officially reached hands on hips stage.

  ‘Whatever.’ Alex dismissed my argument with one very annoying word. ‘The guy is getting married. He’s done nothing but talk about his fiancée all weekend.’

  ‘Apart from when he’s been shagging my best friend blind?’ I questioned.

  Alex breathed out loudly, closed his eyes and opened them again.

  ‘Hey, here’s an idea.’ He took my hands from my hips and held them in his. ‘We agree they’re both totally dumb, we’re awesome, and how about we start tonight again?’

  It still wasn’t an apology. It still wasn’t him admitting he was bang out of order. But it was probably a good idea since I was planning to ask him to marry me. You couldn’t really call someone a cock and then pull a proposal out of the bag.

  ‘Fine.’ I slapped both of his hands awkwardly and nodded towards what looked like, but I was fairly sure wasn’t three hours after sunset, natural daylight. ‘Shall we?’

  Alex gave me his best lopsided half-smile and nodded. ‘We shall.’

  Almost as soon as I walked through the doors into the Grand Canal shopping mall, I
lost my tiny mind. Without leaving the state of Nevada, we had been magically transported directly to Italy. The stone floor, the bright blue skies, the columns, the archways and, bugger me, the bloody canal. It probably helped that (a) I had a very strong willing suspension of disbelief and (b) I’d never been to Italy – but woah. I looked back over one shoulder. Yep, definitely still a casino. Amazing.

  Wandering around, Alex seemed to be as lost for words as I was. It was incredible, as though someone had given a group of drama students an unlimited budget and a Rough Guide to Venicethen said ‘We want that. But with a Banana Republic.’ But it wasn’t just the shops that gave it away. I was fairly certain this version of Venice wasn’t entirely accurate. For one thing, it didn’t smell, and I had definitely heard that the Grand Canal was a bit ripe. Plus I was pretty sure there wasn’t a Nathan’s Famous Hot Dogs or a Panda Express in the original Venezia. Probably just as many tourists wearing baseball caps, but fewer human statues. I hoped. The whole effect was incredibly disconcerting, and as I was already on edge, it felt like this place was testing my sanity. So far we’d been in hotels that were super-luxe rather than themed. I was officially too scared to visit New York, New York; I could only imagine what they’d stuck in there – a Pizza Express in the middle of Central Park maybe? The only thing that soothed my troubled soul was the abundance of Christmas trees. I really couldn’t verify whether or not Italy approved of a twenty-foot Douglas fir covered in ribbons, baubles and enough lights per tree to put Blackpool to shame on every single street corner, but the Venetian certainly did. And I liked it.