Clara Meets The Parents (Clara Andrews #2)

by Lacey London

  ‘Fancy a cocktail, Janie?’ I paste on my best cheery face and wait for her reaction.

  ‘Blue Lagoon.’ Janie fires back, not looking up from her battered copy of Fifty Shades of Grey.

  Biting my lip, I throw on my kaftan and head off to the bar. What is her problem? I rack my brains for something I could have said or done to offend her. Never having had a boyfriend’s parents not like me before, I don’t quite know what to do about it. What I do know, is that I need a cocktail.

  Ordering a couple of Blue Lagoons at the bar, I take a seat in one of the beckoning hammocks and smile as I watch a loved up young couple clinking champagne flutes. I am still staring at the honeymooners when two frosty, elaborate cocktail glasses are placed down in front of me.

  ‘Anything else, amigo?’

  I slip the barman a roll of pesos and glance over to Mr and Mrs Honeymoon and eye up the multi coloured shot glasses enviously.

  ‘Actually yes, I’ll have what they’re having.’

  With a quick smile, he disappears behind the bar. Watching him expertly spinning spirit bottles, I can’t help but wonder if this is the answer. If I keep my alcohol levels high enough, maybe I will come out of this holiday alive.

  ‘One Bob Marley.’ The barman announces and hands me the stripy concoction.

  ‘Thank you. I mean gracias.’

  My face screws up at the surprisingly potent strength as I throw it back in one. Grimacing, I grab the cocktails and head back to the beach. As I approach our loungers, I am panicked to see that Oliver and Randy appear to be missing. Fighting the urge to run away and swim back to England, I take a huge gulp of my cocktail. Wow! A couple more of these and we will all be swimming to England.

  ‘Hey! Be careful! You’re spilling it!’ Janie’s southern drawl makes me jump to attention.

  ‘Oops!’ I attempt a friendly laugh, but it appears to fall on deaf ears. ‘Here you go.’ I hand her the glass and she takes it, no questions asked.

  Taking another sip, I sit down on my lounger. ‘I’d go easy on these! They’re lethal.’

  Janie offers me a thin smile. ‘Honey, I was on my fifth tequila before you had dragged that ass of yours outta bed.’

  Suddenly feeling like a lazy pig, I get an overwhelming urge to defend myself.

  ‘I don’t normally sleep in so late. Back home, I get up at dawn for a yoga session before work.’ She doesn’t need to know that this hasn’t happened for a while.

  Whipping off her sunglasses, she arches her eyebrows in mock surprise.

  ‘Yoga? You?’

  ‘Yes!’ Holding in my stomach, I adjust my costume self consciously. ‘Sometimes.’

  Laughing Janie goes back to her book, but I decide not to give up without a fight.

  ‘Do you work out, Janie?’

  ‘Are you kidding? Do you think you get to forty five looking like this without working out?’

  Almost choking on my drink, I stare at her incredulously.

  ‘Forty five?’ The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them.

  ‘Yeah, forty five! You got a problem with that little Miss. Yoga?’

  ‘No, no, no. No problem.’ I find myself backtracking and reach down for my glass.

  I lean back in my chair and look out to sea, trying not to giggle as a colossal wave sweeps a vastly overweight teenager off his feet. After a few minutes of awkward silence, I roll onto my side.

  ‘The boys have been gone a long time. Did they say where they were going?’

  ‘They went to play a little foosball. Geez, give the boy a break.’ Janie drains her glass and slams her book shut. ‘I’m going for another, want one?’

  ‘No, I’m still working on this one. Thanks though.’ I flash her a smile and run my toes through the sand.

  As I watch Janie walk, or rather prowl down the beach, I top up my sun cream carefully. Maybe I ought to cancel the spa treatments that I had booked. I can’t see Janie and I becoming BFFs any time soon. Thinking of BFFs, I am starting to miss mine. I wish I could speak to Lianna, she would definitely know how to win Janie over. Not wanting to rack up a monumental phone bill, I decide to abuse the hotels WiFi and go to the next best thing for advice, Google.

  Ten minutes and a lot of scrolling later, I am feeling rather dubious about my quest to tackle Janie. If the internet is to be believed, all it will take is a day of compliments and flattery for her to cave. Chucking my phone under the lounger, I finish my cocktail in one swift gulp. Perhaps I should get something to eat. All this alcohol on an empty stomach can only be a recipe for disaster, I can’t remember the last time I drank so much. I am about to go in search of food when a barrage of raucous laughter pierces my ears.

  No! Oh, God! What is she doing? Why is she topless? Why the hell is Janie topless? Not knowing where to look, I attempt to run away when I realise that she has already spotted me. Staring down at the floor, I wait for her to put down the overly excited beach waiter.

  ‘Cara, take this.’ Janie holds out something that resembles scotch and I take it gingerly.

  ‘Thanks and its Clara.’ Not wanting to insult her by not drinking it, I take a sip and try not to gag.

  Suddenly my stomach begins to churn and I don’t know whether it’s due to the venomous scotch or the sight of Janie’s over inflated balloon boobs. Pleading with my body not to do what I think it is going to do, I try to take a few deep breaths. Feeling the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end, I know that it is coming, but before I can stop it from happening, I am projectile vomiting all over my legs and even worse, all over Janie’s.

  This is not going to go down well...

  Chapter 11

  Wiping vomit from my balmy cheeks, I look up at a horrified Janie. ‘I am so sorry, Janie. It must have been something I ate.’

  ‘Or something you didn’t.’ Janie shoots me a filthy look and I pretend not to notice. ‘This is pure alcohol! You should know better than to drink on an empty stomach at your age!’

  Totally mortified, I gather up my things and throw my bag over my sun burnt shoulder. ‘I think I had better go back to the room. I’m not feeling all that well.’

  Avoiding all eye contact, I slip on my sandals and trudge over the sand, pretending not to notice the many scowls I accrue on the way. Nobody likes the dumb British girl who can’t hold her drink. Ignoring the remarks of trailer trash from the girls at the bar, I tip toe through the hotel lobby and take the lift up to our room. I only just make it through the door when I have to make a run for the bathroom.

  Second vomiting incident over, I splash my face with ice cold water and drop down onto the bed. I have spent the past six months daydreaming of this holiday and not once did I picture it going like this. I seriously cannot believe that less than an hour after being introduced to Oliver’s mother, I have hurled on her boots. Way to make a good impression, Clara.

  Firing up the air conditioning, I am about to pull the sheets up over my head and die of embarrassment when the door springs open.

  ‘Clara?’ Oliver pops his head around the door. ‘What the hell happened?

  ‘I don’t know what happened! I think it was something I ate.’ I wail and curl up into a ball.

  ‘Did you have too much to drink or something?’ He asks, sitting down on the edge of the bed. ‘Mom said you looked like you had a little too much.’

  ‘No!’ I yell back. ‘Well, maybe.’

  ‘You’re on vacation, a little too much tequila is allowed.’

  ‘Really?’ Rolling over to face him, I brush a limp curl off my sweaty cheek.

  ‘Yeah. Just next time, try not to hurl on my mom’s five hundred dollar boots.’ He laughs and heads to the bathroom.

  ‘What kind of idiot wears cowboy boots on the beach?’ I mumble under my breath.

  ‘What was that?’

  ‘Nothing!’ I shout back, rolling out of bed.

  ‘Now come on, let’s go get you something to eat. There’s a cook out down by the beach, I thought we could go for a b
urger.’

  Really not wanting to leave the room, I hesitate for a moment before giving in to the lure of fast food. Quickly throwing on a fresh sarong, I cross my arms and look down at my feet.

  ‘Everything OK?’ Oliver asks.

  ‘Not really. I threw up on your mum and now she hates me!’

  Laughing, he pushes me out of the door. ‘Come on, she doesn’t hate you. Just maybe try not to drink so much this afternoon. Do you think you can manage that?’

  ‘For the last time, it was something I ate!’

  Sipping an ice cold glass of sparkling water, I look out to sea and begin to feel myself relax. Fiddling with my straw, I decide it best to wipe the slate clean and pretend that this morning never happened. Everyone deserves a second chance, don’t they? Thankfully, Randy has taken Janie for a trip to the mall so I won’t have to see either of them again until dinner. I am hoping a bit of retail therapy will put her in a more forgiving mood.

  I watch Oliver order a couple of surf ‘n’ turf burgers and wonder how he has turned out so relatively normal with a mum like Janie. It’s not that I have anything against the unconventional, I really don’t. I just did not expect Oliver to have a plastic surgery addicted, tanorexic, peroxide, bitch mum. And I mean that in the nicest possible way. Honestly.

  ‘Feeling a little better?’ Oliver asks, pushing a bowl of nachos towards me.

  ‘You know what, I really do.’ Flashing him a confident smile, I take a golden nacho and dunk it into a mound of guacamole.

  ‘I know you don’t wanna talk about it, but you really don’t need to worry about the whole vomiting thing earlier. I can’t tell you how many times I have found my mom with her head down the toilet.’ He laughs and takes a sip of his cocktail.

  ‘Really?’ My eyes widen, but I honestly can’t say I’m surprised. ‘What was it like growing up with Janie for a mother?’

  ‘It was like any other childhood, except instead of trips to band camp, I went to Vegas and sometimes Atlantic City.’

  I offer a nervous laugh, half wondering whether or not he is joking.

  ‘I did warn you that she wasn’t the stereotypical motherly type. It’s all an act though. Deep down, she’s as soft as a kitten. I swear.’

  Taking a deep breath, I brace myself to ask the question that I have been waiting all afternoon to ask.

  ‘So, did your mum say anything about me earlier?’ Biting my lip, I try to appear nonchalant.

  ‘Actually, she didn’t. My dad thought you were delightful though. A beautiful English rose is the exact term he used.’

  Blushing, I take a handful of nachos and lean back in my seat. Well, I guess one out of two isn’t so bad. I now realise that I may have underestimated Janie. I get the distinct feeling that a polite smile and fleeting compliment aren’t quite going to cut it this time. As our burgers are placed down in front of us, I reach over and squeeze Oliver’s hand.

  ‘I’m going to make your mum fall in love with me if it is the last thing I do.’

  Stretching over the table, Oliver plants a tiny kiss on my nose. ‘I’m sure you will. How could anyone not love you?’

  ‘Exactly.’

  Chapter 12

  Tipping my head upside down, I spray volume serum through my hair and give it a final scrunch. After our visit to the beach BBQ earlier, we spent the rest of the day snoozing under a palm tree, just the two of us. All worries of Janie have been completely blown away and I am pleased to say that I am feeling rather fuzzy inside. I smooth down my dress and smile at the beautiful, tropical print. My first choice was a black, strapless, playsuit, but I had a feeling it may come across a little slutty for dinner with the in laws. The simple, ivory wrap dress I settled on is casual, cute and fingers crossed screams please love me. With a final confident smile at my reflection, we leave the room hand in hand. Janie might have won the first round, but this one is all mine.

  Walking through the restaurant, I hold my head high and stride past the many tables of happy couples. As we approach our seats, my positive attitude falters a little when I notice Janie and Randy are already here. I had planned on being draped elegantly in my seat, Martini in hand when they arrived. I intend on portraying an image as far away from the trailer trash that hurled on the beach earlier as possible. Tightening my grip on Oliver’s hand, I bite my lip as Randy jumps to his feet to greet us.

  ‘Hey! Come on, sit down. We’re starving here!’ He laughs heartily and I accept a friendly kiss on the cheek.

  Janie stays seated and I lean down to give her a tight squeeze. ‘Janie! You look fantastic! That colour is great on you.’

  She eyes me up suspiciously as I pull out my seat and sit down. Smiling back, I try not to laugh at the monstrosity of an outfit that she is wearing. My strapless playsuit suddenly seems extremely conservative. Her gingham print mini dress is loosely held together by a chunky, gold halterneck strap and I am slightly concerned that it is going to burst open at any given minute. Dropping my bag on the floor, I am perturbed to see that she has teamed it with a pair of transparent, sky scraper heels. Courtney Stodden eat your heart out.

  Randy orders a round of margaritas for the table and I make a grab for the bowl of crusty bread rolls. Happily tearing a chunk off and smothering it in butter, I catch Janie raising her eyebrows at me, or at least trying to.

  ‘Bread roll, Janie?’ I push the bowl towards her and wipe my sticky fingers on a napkin.

  Shaking her head, she pushes it back to me in disgust. ‘I don’t do carbs. I follow the Low-V plan.’

  ‘Oh.’ Feeling like a little pork chop, I pop the bread back into the centre of the table.

  ‘You might wanna try it some time.’ She flashes me a wink and I feel my cheeks instantly burn up.

  Reminding myself that I have to win her over, I decide not to bite back. Tucking my hair behind my ears, I pick up the cocktail that has appeared in front of me. Yummy. Calories in alcohol don’t count, right?

  ‘Did Oliver tell you that I booked us a couple of massages at the spa hut down on the beach?’

  Janie stares at me blankly, so I carry on talking. ‘It looks amazing. Sea front treatments, complimentary champagne and afterwards they make you a lobster lunch.’ Clapping my hands excitedly, I wait for her to say something.

  ‘I don’t think so. It’s not really my thing.’ She turns her attention to the menu and crosses her very long legs.

  ‘It’s spa treatments, champagne and lobster. How can that not be your thing?’ I stare at her confused.

  ‘I’m a vegetarian.’ She takes a sip of her drink and flashes me a pearly white smile that doesn’t quite meet her eyes.

  Before I get a chance to explain that I am sure that there will be other edible things to eat apart from luxurious seafood, Oliver slips his arm around my shoulders.

  ‘My dad went ahead and ordered the tasting menu, that OK?’ He pushes the bread towards me.

  Not wanting another fat jibe from Janie, I politely decline.

  ‘So tell us a bit about yourself, Clara.’ Randy turns to face me and I realise that this is my time to shine.

  I have rehearsed this speech so many times in preparation for this holiday that I now know it off by heart. I begin with my upbringing in the North West of England, before moving swiftly on to my relocation to the big smoke. Once I have finished telling them about my hard climb up the career ladder and my charity work for the local dogs home, I am pretty sure I have sold myself well. Even though the charity work consists of nothing more than the odd bag of thread bare clothes donated to the charity shop, it felt good to throw it in there. Sitting back in my chair, I feel a swell of joy at Oliver’s proud smile.

  ‘Oliver hates dogs.’ Janie snipes from behind her cocktail glass.

  ‘Really?’ I spin around in my seat to face him. ‘You never told me you didn’t like dogs?’

  ‘It’s not that I hate dogs. I guess I just prefer the company of cats.’ He shrugs his shoulders and I stare at him in shock.

  He
can’t be serious! I hate cats! He knows that I hate cats! OK, let’s not blow this out of proportion. We are allowed to like different things. It’s not that big of a deal. I try to push it to the back of mind but I am visibly irked. Catching Janie flash me a smug grin, I suddenly feel stupid for falling for her antagonistic stirring.

  Straining my mouth into a forced smile, I let out a small sigh. ‘I actually love both. In fact, I love all animals. Are you a pet person, Janie?’

  ‘Are you kidding me?’ Randy hollers over the table. ‘Janie hates anything that has more than two legs and doesn’t speak English.’

  ‘I’m sure that’s not true.’ I glance at Janie for confirmation as our first courses are placed down on the table.

  ‘It’s not true sweetie.’

  Breathing a sigh of relief, I pick up my fork and dive into the steaming fishcakes.

  ‘I hate anything that doesn’t speak American.’

  Chapter 13

  Call me crazy, but six courses and a good few glasses of wine later, I think Janie is starting to soften. Since the delicious lime cheese cake, Janie has complimented my watch, insisted I try her signature cocktail, which incidentally turned out to be vile and apologised profusely when she accidentally jabbed me with her fork. A little part of me did think it was more accidentally on purpose rather than accidentally, but maybe I am just being paranoid.

  Sat in the lounge bar sipping Mexican espressos, we look the image of family togetherness. Wincing at the copious amounts of tequila in my coffee, I marvel at how well the evening has gone. Admittedly, it didn’t get off to the best start and I almost fell off my chair when she finally agreed to go to the sea front massage tomorrow, but things have ended on a rather positive note.