All I want is to go to my – sorry, Daisy’s room and smarten myself up so that no one else has to see me looking like this. Can you imagine if Crystal saw me in this state? She’d have a field day.
As I attempt to scrape off some of last night’s make-up with toilet roll, my phone rings. Even with a tiny handbag like the one I’m carrying, I struggle to find it.
Eventually grabbing hold of it, I see that Charles is calling me. I hope this means he’s found Dylan.
‘Hey!’ I answer, trying to sound cool, calm and collected, but achieving none of the above.
‘Hey, I’m on my way to the security room. We’re going to look over the CCTV footage from last night, so if you want to meet me there and show us where you saw Dylan last, we can follow him and see where he ended up...hopefully.’
‘Yeah, of course. Where is the security room?’
‘On the ground floor, ask at Reception and they’ll show you.’
‘OK, see you in a sec.’ I click off the call and return my phone to my bag.
Taking out my lipstick, I try and make myself look a little more presentable. I definitely can’t stroll around the swanky lobby looking like this. I apply a thick layer of red lipstick, by way of a distraction, and dab a little onto my eyelids. It seemed like a good idea but, in hindsight, maybe not. My eyes look sore now; in fact I’m looking a little cokey, à la Luke Fox. Crystal may have stolen my Pretty Woman crown yesterday, but I’m about to win it back. I not only look like a bit of a prostitute in this dress (last night it looked hot, at this time in the morning it looks tarty) but I also look like I’m just coming off my shift. As I approach the front desk, the look on the face of the woman sitting behind it confirms everything I just thought. As she escorts me to a room with ‘Security’ stuck in big letters on the door, I can’t help but think how bad this must look.
Inside, Charles is sitting in front of a bunch of monitors with a big, burly security guard. It’s kind of scary, all these monitors – you don’t realise just how many cameras there are on you in the hotel. Apart from the rooms, obviously, I don’t think there is an inch of space in this hotel without a camera pointing at it.
‘So, where was he last?’ the security guard asks me, looking me up and down, taking in my trashy get-up.
Things are a little hazy, but I do my best to give him a rough time and a place so that he can check.
‘I think we’ve got him, one moment.’
Looking at the big monitor, I can see Dylan lying on the stairs and me walking towards him.
As I see myself approach Dylan, our conversation silently plays out before my eyes. I remember the events of last night a second before I see them on the screen. I grab Dylan’s face, he grabs mine, and there’s that kiss. Without audio this is looking pretty bad. We stand up, about to head our separate ways.
‘That looked pretty intimate,’ Charles observes. I don’t respond, mainly because I don’t know how to.
‘OK, so now we can follow him and see where he ends up,’ says the security man.
Then we get to the part where Dylan hands me his keycard and then there’s that second kiss – I’d forgotten about that one. It seems to go on for much longer than I recall, although perhaps it just seems that way because this is so awkward.
As Dylan climbs the stairs, the security man pushes buttons to follow him.
I can feel my cheeks flushing again. I know how it looks, but that’s not how it was, so I’m not saying anything. Instead, I just stare at the big monitor, waiting to see where he stops.
‘There you go, tenth-floor reception room.’
‘Cheers, mate,’ Charles thanks the security guard before turning to me.
I don’t give him chance to say anything, instead I suggest that I go and look for Dill, and Charles agrees that would be best.
In the sober light of day, I remember my room being on the eighth floor, so I can grab Dylan, send him on his way and then go get myself ready. The only way this weekend can go from here is up.
When I eventually find the reception rooms and walk through the door, the first thing to catch my eye is Dylan, lying face down on the floor in between the tables, an empty bottle of champagne still in his hand.
‘Dylan, it’s Nicole. Wake up, love,’ I say in a hushed voice, shaking him gently. It only takes a few attempts and I hear him groan and move slightly. He’s alive, so far so good.
‘What time is it?’ he asks.
‘It’s time you got your suit on. What the hell are you doing in here?’
‘Who knows?’ He rolls over and sits upright.
‘We need to get you to your room and – oh my God!’
‘What?’ he asks, and I’m scared to tell him. Dylan has one hell of a black eye and a cut on his lip – injuries he definitely didn’t have when I saw him last.
‘Where did you get the champagne?’ I ask, avoiding his question.
‘I think I found it. Why did you say what you just said?’
‘Don’t worry about it, because we can fix it, but you have a black eye and a burst lip.’
‘What?’ he shouts. I hand him the little mirror I keep in my handbag so he can see the damage.
‘Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck! Crystal is going to slaughter me.’
‘Crystal Slaughter – isn’t that her name?’ I snigger, but it’s clearly not the time.
He touches his lip and winces.
‘Look, calm down. I’ve got loads of make-up in my room, we can cover it up and no one will know,’ I assure him.
‘I had sex last night,’ he tells me frankly, changing the subject.
‘With who?’ I ask, surprised but not that surprised.
‘I don’t know, but I know that I did.’
‘Are you sure? You were alone when we met up.’
‘We met up? It wasn’t you, was it?’ he asks seriously.
‘No!’ I laugh.
‘OK, but it happened. I never forget a fuck.’
‘Dylan, you’ve forgotten more sex than I’ve had in my lifetime, just calm down. Let’s go cake you in make-up.’
‘OK,’ he says, taking a deep breath and exhaling slowly. ‘Looking at the state of you, if this is what you normally look like, then your make-up must be the stuff of miracles.’
‘Watch it, or I won’t let you use it and then you’ll be in Bacci magazine looking like a twat – and that’s if Crystal will still marry you with a face like this.’
He laughs and winces with pain at the same time. ‘You know, I thought the headache was because of the hangover, but my face kills.’
‘I’ll bet it does,’ I sympathise. His face is a mess; I’m hoping my make-up bag is up to the challenge.
‘Am I doing the right thing?’ he asks me.
‘I’m sure a lot of men wear make-up. Some make it obvious, some don’t.’
‘Oi, you know what I’m talking about. Getting married. Am I doing the right thing?’
This is my moment, the last chance I’ll get to talk him out of going through with this. When I first found out, I thought it was a bad idea. I mean, who marries some girl they don’t know, but knocked up one drunken night? It’s Jeremy Kyle shit. And now I’ve met Crystal, and she’s just horrible, how can I let him go ahead and marry her? He’s my best friend, I love him to bits and I know he’ll be miserable married, but married to a girl like her – who has just been waiting for a rich and famous mug to marry – it’ll ruin his life.
Looking into his eyes, for the first time ever I see a softer, entirely genuine side to Dylan. He’s not worrying about what anyone thinks, there’s no act. This is the first time I have ever seen him look worried – scared even. Then I remember how excited he was in the lobby yesterday. Maybe I’m just scared to lose him? If he’s just nervous, it wouldn’t be right to talk him out of it.
‘Do you think you’re doing the right thing?’ I ask.
‘I thought I was, but something just doesn’t feel right, you know?’
It’s now or never, Nicole, s
peak now or forever hold your peace.
‘I think you’re just nervous,’ I say. I can’t ruin his day and it’s not my place to tell him whether or not I think he should get married.
‘Do you think so?’
‘Dylan, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you surer about anything for as long as I’ve known you. You seemed so happy yesterday. If you think you’re doing the right thing, then you do it.’
‘I thought I was sure,’ he says, and we sit in silence for a few seconds, neither of us knowing what the hell to say.
‘Well there’s always divorce,’ I joke.
‘There is. And she did sign a prenup,’ he adds with a laugh.
‘Come on, we’ll stop by my room and grab my make-up bag. I met Charles, by the way.’
‘Oh really?’
‘Yeah. I’ll tell you all about it on the way.’
Chapter Twenty-Three
The Wedding
I don’t think it matters how gorgeous my dress is, I had to get ready in such a hurry and my hair could have done with at least twenty minutes more attention.
I helped Dylan to get ready first, straightening his tie, covering him in make-up – typical groom stuff. He looks absolutely gorgeous and the make-up has really done the trick, you’d never know his face was such a mess underneath it all. I’ve got extra make-up in my bag in case he needs a touch up later. That won’t seem weird at all.
Looking at him standing up there waiting to get married in front of his family, friends and random A-listers who will look good in the photos, I feel a pang of jealousy – I’m not sure why though. Did I feel jealous that night on the tour bus when he was having alarmingly loud sex in the bunk below me? No – I just wanted it to stop so that I could go to sleep. It was 4 a.m., none of us had slept in over twenty-four hours and the gentle rock of the bus was making me feel seasick. That’s pretty standard procedure on tour though – if you can’t stand the sex, get off the tour bus.
So why is this different? I certainly don’t want to get married, not to Dylan or anyone else for that matter.
‘So, what do you really look like?’ Charles asks, sitting down next to me. He’s another man that scrubs up pretty nicely.
‘What do you mean?’ I ask.
‘Well looking at Dylan, you’d never know his face was black and blue under all that make-up. It makes me wonder what you actually look like.’
‘Oh, cheers!’ I smile.
‘Dylan looks a bit more relaxed.’ He gestures towards the altar.
‘I’m not surprised, he’s still drunk.’
Charles looks surprised. ‘He’s still drunk and about to get married?’
‘That’s Dylan. Shouldn’t this show be on the road?’ I ask.
‘It should, Crystal just sent a message saying she will be slightly late.’
‘Late? She’s only upstairs! It’s not like she has to race across town, is it?’
Charles laughs. ‘You don’t like her, do you?’
‘She doesn’t like me either,’ I reply, a little too defensively.
‘I can’t think why not, you’re lovely,’ Charles whispers to me, and before I have chance to work out if he’s being sarcastic again, the music starts. Her ladyship must be here.
Chapter Twenty-Four
The Best Best Man’s Speech Ever
Considering the groom was drunk and the bride was the Bride of Chucky, the wedding went without a hitch. Well, apart from when Dylan said, ‘I, Kylan, Ding’ by mistake. Charles and I very much enjoyed his slip up, laughing together and nudging each other like a couple of naughty school kids. He’s good fun, is Charles – we’re getting on really well.
After the ceremony we posed for photos together and I can think of far worse people to have on my arm in a huge magazine like Bacci.
The photographer took a lovely photo of me and Dylan and I really hope they print it, although I doubt they’ll publish a snap of the groom and his female best friend. They might print the photo of Charles and me though, which also has massive dress-showing-off potential.
After sitting next to Charles during dinner, my mini-crush on his voice has turned into a full-blown crush on his everything. It’s only now that we’re listening to the speeches that we’ve finally stopped chatting.
Mikey’s speech is up next – I’m really looking forward to this one. I spoke to him earlier and he warned me not to miss it so I’m expecting great things. Of course, this is his brother’s wedding so I’m sure he’ll take the honour seriously and not use it as a platform for his cheeky lyrics.
‘If I can have your attention, please?’ a voice bellows over the PA system. ‘It’s time for the final speech. Give it up for the best man.’
Applause and cheers fill the room as Mikey takes the microphone, a mischievous grin plastered across his face.
‘Hello, ladies and gentlemen, I’m...,’ Mikey pauses, and the entire room falls silent. ‘Sorry about that,’ he says sincerely, ‘I’m just so nervous. This morning Dylan told me that if I did a good job at being his best man today, that I could be best man at his next wedding too.’
The room erupts with laughter – well, everyone apart from Crystal is laughing, she doesn’t look too impressed. Mikey carries on regardless.
‘For those of you who don’t know me, I am Mikey, Dylan’s little brother. I’d just like to point out to the bridesmaids that the term “little brother” refers to our difference in age, and not our physical characteristics.’
Still no reaction from Crystal, but the crowd love it and one of the bridesmaids gives him a cheeky wink.
‘I don’t want you thinking that just because Dylan is my brother that I’m going to go easy on him,’ Mikey continues. ‘It is tradition that I give him the most uncomfortable five minutes of his life. For the record, Crystal, the most uncomfortable five minutes of you live will be later on this evening, courtesy of the groom. Or did that happen eight months ago? I’m not sure. That said, I’m not standing here in front of you now to make a fool out of my brother. Why should I take all the credit? He’s been making a fool of himself for years.’
Dylan is taking the speech as intended – as a joke – but Crystal has a face like a slapped arse.
‘I hope you’ve all had plenty to drink and that you’re having a good time,’ Mikey continues. ‘I could tell you a few stories about Dylan having plenty to drink and having a good time on tour, but it seems a shame to ruin the wedding.’
Charles and I are in hysterics. I don’t know what is funnier, the speech or the fact that Crystal isn’t laughing at all. Dylan is laughing his head off – I wouldn’t like to be in his shoes tonight.
‘I can’t believe you two got married today and you’re not even touching,’ Mikey points at the happy couple’s hands. ‘Come on, Dylan, she’s not that fat. I’m joking, I’m joking, I know she’s pregnant. Well, that’s what she told us anyway. Crystal, place your hands on the table and Dylan, place yours on top, show the girl some affection.’
Mikey knocks back half of his champagne prematurely as Dylan and Crystal do as instructed.
‘I’d like to take this moment to tell Crystal that she looks stunning.’ Everyone in the room takes a moment to make sighing noises at Crystal. ‘Dylan, you just look stunned. But seriously, Crystal you look beautiful. Bridesmaids, you did a great job with her this morning. Dylan, what can I say? We tried our best.’
Crystal isn’t laughing at the jokes, she isn’t smiling at the compliments and she isn’t even laughing at the jokes that are only about Dylan, but to be honest I think the fact she isn’t amused is what is making Mikey really go for it.
‘He has got himself a beauty though, and she’s definitely his type. I’ve always said that my brother likes his women like he likes his cars. He’s currently driving a convertible Mercedes-Benz which is a really nice car, and confirmation that he loves topless models.’
I’m laughing so hard my face is hurting.
‘Time to be serious,’ Mikey insists. ‘I think
marriage will be good for my brother. It will teach him loyalty, self-control, responsibility and a load of qualities he wouldn’t have needed if he’d just stayed single.’
Mikey glances around the room. ‘Do you all have a drink in your hand? I am about to propose a toast. I’ve actually congratulated the groom already, I said to him, “Dylan, you will always look back on today as the happiest day of your life” – and that was just the stag do.’
Mikey pauses for laughs.
‘Ladies and gentlemen, there are two very important people here today, without whom very little of this would have been possible. As the evening goes on, I’m sure you’ll spend more time with them, I know I will. So if you’ll join me in raising a glass. To the bar staff,’ Mikey says, raising his glass.
‘To the bar staff,’ the rest of the room echoes.
‘Seriously, though,’ Mikey says, fooling no one this time, ‘they say a man is incomplete until he is married, and after that he is finished. Dylan, you are finished from today, my brother. A toast, to Dylan and Crystal.’
‘To Dylan and Crystal.’ We all raise our glasses.
‘Before I go,’ Mikey nods towards Dylan and Crystal, ‘I see you’re still holding hands, that’s nice. Dylan, you should enjoy that. It’s the last time you’ll ever have the upper hand again. Thank you and good night!’ he yells into the microphone like he’s just finished a show at the O2 Arena.
That has to be the most hilarious speech I have ever heard in my life. Charles actually has tears in his eyes from laughing so hard – in fact, so do most of the guests. Crystal, however, is a crazy shade of red. She must have found some of it funny, surely? OK, maybe not the part where he called her fat, but the rest of it was just brilliant.
‘Let’s go congratulate Mikey,’ I suggest to Charles. ‘That was amazing.’
We have to push our way through the crowd of guests gathered round him, but we finally get to the front.
How Not to Be Starstruck Page 11