Despite being heavily pregnant, she is wearing a pair of bright-pink hot pants and a halter-neck vest, her massive belly poking out between the two. Even if she wasn’t knocked up, her outfit is a little inappropriate for a hotel like this – and that’s without mentioning the fact it’s October and we’re in London, not the Bahamas. Her hair is bleach-blonde and her tan would make David Dickinson sick with jealousy.
I mentally tell myself off for judging her before she’s even opened her mouth, making a pact with myself that I won’t hate her unless she gives me reason to do so.
‘Oh, you’re Nicole.’
And there it is.
‘Erm, yes,’ I reply, not entirely sure what she meant by that.
‘Well I didn’t expect you to look like that.’
Is she taking the piss? Well, two can play that game.
‘Really? Because you’re exactly what I expected,’ I reply, turning to Dylan to kiss him on the cheek.
‘Hello, you.’
‘Hey, babe, thanks for coming. In case you hadn’t guessed, this is Crystal,’ he says, gesturing towards the big, orange and now angry-looking woman next to him.
I smile and nod in recognition and she scowls at me. Tonight is going to be just wonderful.
‘So, are you looking forward to tonight?’ Dylan asks me. It’s as though he’s reading my mind.
‘I cannot wait. Super-stoked!’ I exaggerate. ‘What have you got planned, Crystal?’
‘My sister Daisy has organised it all, we’ll soon find out. Alcohol-free fun – are you coming dressed like that?’
Yep, tonight is going to be a blast.
‘I’m going to head up to my room now and get changed, don’t worry.’
‘About that...’ Dylan starts, and I know I’m not going to like what he has to say. ‘Small problem, Crystal solved it.’
‘We didn’t book enough rooms and the hotel is fully booked,’ she starts brightly, ‘so I suggested to Dilly – what with you being so cool about partying with the girls tonight – that you wouldn’t mind sharing a room. So we’ve put you in with my sister, Daisy.’
‘Right.’
‘There are two beds, and it’s a big room,’ Dylan offers. ‘Is that OK?’
‘Yeah, fine,’ I reply. It’s not like I have much choice.
‘Well, Dilly, you had somewhere to go, right? I’ll take Nicole to her room,’ Crystal suggests, kissing Dylan goodbye.
‘You girls have fun tonight. Behave, yeah?’ Dylan teases us.
‘I’m sure I can keep her under control.’ I laugh, amusing Dylan but definitely not Crystal.
‘The next time we all see each other, I’ll be getting married!’ he yells, attracting a lot of attention and consequently getting a few dirty looks – not that he cares, he seems on top of the world.
So here we are, Dylan’s best friend and his pregnant one-night stand, about to embark on a teetotal hen night in a bar that’s only a few floors from where my real friends will be having fun at a stag do. I know where I’d rather be.
‘Who does your hair extensions?’ Crystal asks me as we head up in the lift.
‘I don’t have hair extensions,’ I tell her honestly.
‘Fuck off!’ She tugs on my hair until she is convinced. ‘How do you get it that long?’
Do I let her in on my secret, you know, the one about hair growing?
‘I soak it in urine,’ I tell her as the lift pings, stepping out first and leaving her there for a moment to process what I just said. She sniffs the hand she was touching my hair with and catches up with me, which is fortunate because I don’t know where I’m going.
We stop outside a door, Crystal knocks and we wait several minutes before a large girl with a mass of curly ginger hair and an ill-fitting hotel bathrobe answers.
‘Daisy, this is Nicole. Nicole, this is Daisy,’ Crystal says unenthusiastically. ‘Right, I have to go and get my hair done. Laters.’
‘I suppose you’d better come in then,’ Daisy welcomes me. Sort of.
The room is an absolute tip, but I can just about make out the one and only double bed underneath a pile of clothes and towels.
‘You’re not a lesbian, are you?’ Daisy asks – as you do.
‘I’m not...’
‘Good. ’Cause I don’t want you looking at me.’ Daisy eyes me cautiously, before dropping her robe. I have no idea where to look as she tries on various outfits.
‘Am I OK to use the bathroom?’ I ask.
‘Yeah, I’ve already used it.’
Wow, she really has used it. The bathroom is even messier than the bedroom, with empty bottles of complimentary bath products scattered around along with all the towels. There’s a hand towel still on the rack, I guess that one is mine. As I start to tidy up, I realise that she has also made use of the other bath robe.
I’m not going to let her ruin my plan to have a nice long bath, and now I’m looking forward to it more than ever, especially because it means I don’t have to be in there with Daisy the cow.
Leaning over the huge bath to turn the taps on, I spot the huge clump of hair clogging up the plug hole. I’m squeamish at the best of times, but other people’s hair in plug holes makes me feel physically sick. I can’t touch it. There goes my bath.
Instead I have a shower, careful to avoid the clumps of ginger hair scattered around the room. I wonder if ginger is Crystal’s natural hair colour too – does that mean Dylan will have ginger kids? Whatever colour their hair is, let’s hope they inherit Dylan’s personality.
Massaging the shampoo into my hair, I am interrupted by a bang on the door.
‘Nicole? Are you going to be long? I need the toilet.’
This is going to be a long, long night.
Chapter Twenty
The First Mistake
I have made friends with a lovely barman named Liam and he has agreed to sneak vodka into each one of my cocktails, despite Crystal’s ‘if I can’t drink, then no one can’ rule. I love Liam. Although no matter how drunk I feel, the Slater sisters are still doing my head in.
Crystal’s friends are basically clones of her, all with similar hair and outfits – although Crystal is the only pregnant one as far as I can tell.
‘This is the number-one woman in Dylan’s life,’ Crystal tells her friend, pointing at me. ‘Well, she was. I’m her replacement.’
She laughs, walking off and leaving me with one of her clones.
‘So what are you going to do now?’ Clone asks me.
‘What do you mean?’
‘Are you going to find another boyfriend?’
‘Dylan wasn’t my boyfriend,’ I tell her, super-confused.
‘Oh.’ Clone looks confused too.
‘We’re just friends, and I’m a music journalist so I help out with some of his band stuff.’
‘You have a job?’ Clone looks even more confused.
It’s like talking to a child, which is weird because she looks a lot older than me.
‘Yes, I have a job. Do you have a job?’
‘No!’ She laughs hysterically, and I wonder if Liam is giving her alcohol too. ‘I’m just waiting for my rockstar.’
I stare at her blankly.
‘You know, like Crystal. We’re all looking for them, so they can take care of us.’
‘Why don’t you just get yourself a footballer? They have more money,’ I joke.
‘Oh no, being a WAG is so 2008,’ she replies, totally straight-faced. Oh God, she’s actually serious – I’m out of here. It’s late, I’ve babysat these bitches for long enough, I am going to bed before Daisy the cow comes up and tries to make me sleep in the bath.
I walk towards the toilets before making a dash for the exit. Hopefully they won’t notice I’m gone.
Maybe it’s because I’m a bit drunk, but I can’t remember what number room we’re in – I think it ended in twenty-five. Maybe. I’ll just try my keycard in all rooms ending in twenty-five, there’s only like a billion floors here.
/> I’m not sure how long I’ve been trying my keycard in various doors, but none of them have opened.
Unable to spot the lifts, I make my way to the stairwell. After wobbling down one or two levels, I spot someone sitting on the floor. It’s Dylan, and he’s so drunk.
‘Dylan?’
‘Nicole! How are you? Are you having a paaaaarty?’ he screams.
I plonk myself down next to him and ask, ‘What are you doing here?’
‘I don’t know, I don’t know. But listen, come here.’ He looks around to check the coast is clear, before gesturing for me to lean in.
‘I’m drunk,’ he whispers, although not that quietly.
‘I can smell that, babes. Where are your mates?’
‘Tomorrow I’m getting married!’ he unhelpfully replies.
‘Dylan, listen,’ I hold his face with both hands so that he is looking into my eyes and hopefully listening. ‘Do you know which room I am staying in?’
‘I know what room I’m staying in – Mikey wrote it on my hand.’ He laughs manically, clamping my head in his hands like I am doing with his. ‘Let’s go there!’
Dylan has two different room numbers on his hand, one written in pen and the other is a tattoo from a drunken night a little while ago. I’m sure it made sense to him at the time, but these days it just confuses him.
Before I have chance to say anything, he plants a kiss on my lips – just a peck, but probably not the smartest thing to do the night before your wedding. I need to get him to his room and I need to get him sobered up. He’s going to have one hell of a hangover tomorrow.
‘Let me help you up.’ I stand up and offer Dylan my hand.
‘I can walk.’ He springs to life, jumping to his feet. I’m not convinced he is sober enough to take care of himself – and I’ll do anything to avoid the slumber party from hell – so I’ll get us some coffee, just to make sure he sobers up properly.
‘Do you have coffee in your room?’ I ask.
‘We do not.’
‘Right, go to your room, I’ll go get us some coffee from Reception. I’ll knock on the door so let me in, OK?’
‘Take my key, I have two. Just in case,’ he says with a wink, before planting yet another kiss on my lips. It’s still a peck, but this one lasts a little longer.
I take his keycard and head downstairs as Dylan climbs up the stairs towards his room. I probably should have taken him, but he seems a bit more alert now.
Making my way down the empty stairwell, I jump at the sound of Dylan’s voice echoing down from a few floors up.
‘I love you, Nicole,’ he shouts.
‘I love you too,’ I reply in a loud whisper. He’s definitely conscious, he’ll be fine.
After collecting packets of coffee, milk and sugar from the bar in Reception, I head back up to the room.
Pushing the card into the door, it opens and I’m thankful I remembered the number of at least one room tonight, even if it wasn’t my own.
The room is in darkness and I have no idea where the light switch is. There’s just enough light coming in from the windows for me to see that Dylan is already in his bed – his huge bed. It’s probably about three times bigger than the one I’m supposed to be sharing with Daisy.
Maybe I could sleep here…or maybe I should go. It’s a bit of a dodgy idea, the night before his wedding. But then again, this bed is huge and I’ve shared a bed with him a bunch of times before, this isn’t really that different. Someone needs to stay with him and make sure he isn’t sick, and anyway it’s not like anyone will ever know. All I know is that my head feels fuzzy and I’m really tired. Slipping off my dress, I climb into the huge bed. I’ll have to think of an excuse to explain to Daisy why I didn’t spend the night where I was supposed to – that’s if she even noticed.
Chapter Twenty-One
The Semi-Naked Stranger
Mmm! That was one of the comfiest night’s sleep I’ve ever had. Maybe it’s this bed? I don’t feel the slightest bit hungover, although I imagine I still look it. It’s not a miracle bed.
The sun is shining in through the massive windows and it takes my eyes a while to adjust to the light. Rolling onto my side, I realise I’ve made my way to the middle of the huge bed.
‘Morning,’ I say to the semi-naked, complete stranger in bed next to me.
‘Good morning,’ he replies.
I double-take. I have no idea who this man is, but I’m in bed with him, in my underwear. Screaming seems like the practical response but I can’t get one to come out. Instead I whimper a little.
Sensing my alarm, the stranger gets out of bed and pulls on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt.
‘I’ll go grab us some breakfast and then when I get back, maybe you can tell me your name,’ he smiles. ‘Tea or coffee?’
‘Tea,’ I reply weakly. And with that, he’s gone.
As soon as the door closes, I jump out of bed and grab my dress, putting it on as quickly as possible. How drunk was I last night? This has to be Dylan’s room, because it was Dylan who gave me the keycard that definitely opened this door...I think.
Looking around the room for clues, I see a suit hanging up. Dylan sent me a photo of his wedding outfit, and the one hanging here looks just like it. Examining the desk I see Dylan’s phone, this has to be his room – so who was that man?
Searching frantically for my other shoe, with every intention of making a run for it before the stranger returns, I hear the door open again. In walks the stranger, carrying a tray with two cups of tea and a plate of croissants.
‘So who are you?’ he asks, taking a seat at the table and sipping his tea.
‘Is this Dylan’s room?’ I ask, ignoring his question.
‘It is indeed. Sugar?’
‘What?’
‘Sugar,’ he waves the sachet at me. ‘For your tea. It’s Nicole, isn’t it?’
Now I am really freaked out, how the hell does he know my name?
‘Yes,’ I reply cautiously.
‘I recognised the accent,’ he tells me, standing up and offering me his hand to shake. ‘A handshake seems a bit formal considering we just spend the night together. It’s Charles. Charles Pace.’
Oh, I am mortified. I shake his hand as I try to get things straight in my head. So last night I tipsily bumped into Dylan (who has very drunk), took his keycard from him (probably his only one), decided I would share his bed with him, and ended up sleeping next to the man who is in charge of his public relations – AKA the man whose job it would have been to clear up the mess I would have caused if anyone had found out that I’d shared a bed with Dylan the night before his wedding.
‘Sorry, this must be weird for you,’ Charles begins to explain. ‘Dylan asked me to keep an eye on him, so I went along to his party and said I’d sleep in here with him tonight. I didn’t even realise he had left the room – I was pleasantly surprised to wake up next to you instead. It’s nice to finally see what you look like.’
‘Yeah, you too – and in your underpants, no less,’ I reply, managing to find a little of that that Nicole Wilde cheeky charm, despite our awkward situation. He blushes.
‘So this is Dylan’s room?’ I’m still confused.
‘It is and it’s also the Honeymoon Suite.’ A cheeky grin spreads across Charles’ face. ‘I’ll be sure to tell him we road-tested it for him.’
‘We didn’t...did we?’ I can’t even say the actual words, but it always pays to check, right?
‘We didn’t. I just woke up this morning and there you were. Anyway, it wouldn’t be that great if we had, would it? What with you thinking you were in bed with Dylan.’
It’s hard to be sure if that was a dig or just a polite way of warning me off. I must look like a proper little scandal magnet.
‘I was drunk, I was tired, I didn’t have a room of my own – all Dylan’s fault really,’ I offer as some sort of explanation.
‘You secret is safe with me, Nicole.’
‘So where is Dylan now
?’ I ask.
‘I was hoping you could tell me that,’ he replies calmly. I’m not sure if he’s being professional or if he just doesn’t know Dylan well enough yet – I remember one time we lost him for twenty-four hours, and you wouldn’t believe what I had to go through to find him.
‘Well, when I left him he was on his way here.’
‘So the groom is missing,’ he says, still totally calm. ‘Shall we go look for him?’
I try to give off the same calm vibes, but it’s impossible. How can anyone be calm on the morning of a massive celebrity wedding when the groom is missing?
Chapter Twenty-Two
The Walls Have Eyes
I’ve had some pretty weird weekends in my twenty-five years, but this is one of the strangest ones yet. I am currently searching the public areas of the hotel for Dylan – the last man I ever thought would get married – because he’s due to tie the knot in a few short hours. That’s weird enough for me without the whole sleeping-in-the-same-bed-as-Charles thing. Speaking of Charles, he’s gone to the lobby to see if the hotel staff can help us locate the elusive Mr King. Hopefully he hasn’t left the hotel, or we’ve got no chance of finding him in time.
Now that I’m alone – and clothed – I’m realising how hot Charles looked in just his pants. I was a bit too freaked out to notice it at the time, but the more I think about it the more my cheeks flush. Looking at my reflection in the mirror in the women’s toilets (which is why I’m in here, not to look for Dylan...then again, you never know with him), I realise just how bad I’m looking right now. My make-up is smeared all over my face, my hair is absolutely massive and when I hurriedly put my dress on...let’s just say it’s not hanging on me as nicely as it did last night, more like hanging off me to be honest. What a fantastic first impression I must have made on Charles. Sexy, sexy Charles. I may have only spent a few minutes with him (awake at least), but I think I’ve got him pegged. I’ll bet he goes to the gym every day – when he isn’t working, which I’d imagine is the rest of the time, he seems to be constantly in professional mode – and I doubt he’s short of female attention with that perfectly styled dirty-blonde hair, those deep-blue eyes and that sexy designer stubble he’s sporting. I wonder if he’s married, I didn’t think to look for a wedding ring – clearly I’m off the ball this morning.
How Not to Be Starstruck Page 10