by Sibel Hodge
‘Well, it’s not helping.’
‘Come on, let’s go.’ Brad steered me towards the exit doors. ‘The quicker we get to the hotel, the quicker we can rectify the problem.’
We stepped outside into the suffocating heat.
Mum fanned herself with the magazine she’d stolen from the plane. ‘Wow. It’s hot.’
‘My hair’s going to frizz,’ Suzy moaned, smoothing down her already perfectly straight hair. I didn’t know what she was complaining about. Her hair always looked immaculate, just like the rest of her. I, on the other hand, had inherited mad-hair genes from Mum or Dad. I wasn’t pointing fingers, since they both had equally tidy hair, but it had to come from somewhere.
I ignored Suzy, still feeling pissed off and having a worry fest in my head about not being able to get a replacement dress in just a few hours. But I was determined not to let the incident ruin the start of my holiday and honeymoon. Of course I’d be able to get something new. And it would probably be even better than the original, right? No problemo—I wasn’t going to let that little glitch get me down.
I glanced around at the hustle and bustle of people, who all had one thing on their minds: Fun with a capital F. There were groups of college-aged guys and girls, couples, families, and old-age pensioners. They came in all ages, all nationalities, and all shapes and sizes. Yep, Vegas definitely had something for everyone. Or maybe everyone except a high-strung Suzy.
Tia stopped talking to Umberto on her phone and hung up. She clutched my arm. ‘Good news! There’s a shop called Rentagown a few minutes from the Strip, and they pride themselves on being able to kit out a bride within an hour. They’ve got a seamstress on site, and any alterations needed are done immediately.’
‘Phew.’ I breathed a sigh of relief.
‘We’ll go there after we’ve checked in and get you a new dress,’ Mum said. ‘Don’t you worry about a thing.’
I walked towards the taxi rank. ‘Come on, then. Let’s grab a cab.’
‘No, wait.’ Brad caught my arm. ‘I’ve already arranged the taxi. It’ll be here any minute.’
I grinned. Brad had thought of everything to make this trip so perfect!
‘Where is it? I’m going to perspire in this heat.’ Suzy wrinkled her nose with distaste. God forbid she should perspire like normal mortals.
‘Is that it?’ I joked, pointing to a gunmetal-grey, shiny Hummer limo pulling up. ‘You shouldn’t have! Ha ha.’
‘Actually, it is.’ His lips curled in a satisfied grin.
‘Really? You got us a limo? Oh, wow! I’ve always wanted to go in a limo.’
‘I know.’ He kissed me on the lips, and a little part of me melted. ‘I told you—I’ve got everything covered. This honeymoon is going to be perfect.’
‘Woo-hoo!’ Tia said, her American accent blending in with the crowds of locals. ‘Awesome.’ She jumped up and down with excitement.
Suzy glared at Tia’s antics. Great. Suzy was going to be a bundle of fun on this trip. I bet she wanted to go to an art museum. Or learn to play golf or something.
The suited and booted limo driver got out and opened the back door. As I stepped inside, it was like getting into our own personal disco. There were comfy black-leather seats along the back and one side. The other side was home to a bar with mirrors and subtle sparkly blue-and-white lights. Set into the wall was a huge TV screen with a video of Ricky Martin swivelling his hips and singing ‘Livin’ La Vida Loca’, the music coming from surround-sound speakers.
‘Look, champagne!’ I spied a bottle of Moet and Chandon sitting in an ice bucket. ‘This is definitely one way to make me forget about exploding dresses.’
We settled into the seats. Brad popped the cork and filled all of our glasses. Maybe the champers would loosen Suzy up a bit.
‘To my beautiful bride-to-be, and a fabulous holiday.’ Brad held his glass up in a toast. ‘To a lifetime of happiness, amazing friends, and great luck.’
A huge smile crept up my lips as we all clinked glasses. ‘You forgot to say good sex,’ I whispered to Brad.
He shrugged. ‘That goes without saying.’
‘Mmmm.’ Mum knocked half of hers back in one gulp. ‘Nice.’
‘Yummy.’ Tia licked her lip-glossed lips.
Suzy took the tiniest sip, as if it might be laced with cyanide, before deciding it was worth having more.
Hacker whispered something in Tia’s ear, and she blushed. They’d been a couple for a while, and he was probably telling her what he’d like to do with some champagne after we’d checked into the amazing Bellagio Hotel.
Mum gave Dad a saucy look, probably thinking the same thing. They’d had their ups and downs recently, due to Dad being a workaholic, but were now putting the spice back into the romance department.
I glanced over at Suzy, who had a brittle expression as if her face might crack if she dared to smile. I felt a twinge of sadness. Even though we didn’t usually see eye to eye—I was like the fiery heat of the Vegas desert, and she was more like a Scandinavian fjord—she was still my sister, and I didn’t want her to feel left out on this trip. I had to make an effort.
‘Hey. Are you OK?’ I bumped my shoulder against hers, a gesture that annoyed her for some reason. She hadn’t had a boyfriend in years, and I didn’t want her to feel like she was a gooseberry with the rest of us in couples.
She glanced down at her shoulder and wiped it with French-manicured fingertips.
‘Suzy, this is Vegas. You’ve got to lighten up and have some fun. It’s an order.’
‘Hmmm,’ she muttered, unconvinced.
‘Oh, look!’ Tia pointed out the window at the giant MGM Grand hotel as we drove along the Strip.
‘There are two female police officers having their photos taken with some tourists. How friendly of them.’ Mum stared. ‘I didn’t know their uniforms were so short here!’
I craned my neck, checking out a busty blonde and brunette with lots of cleavage showing and skirts up to the knickers line—at least, I hoped they had knickers on.
‘They’re not cops,’ Tia said. ‘You can just get your photo taken with them, and you give them a few bucks for tips. Look—there’s a Superman doing the same, and a couple of people dressed as characters from The Hangover.’
‘What’s the point of that?’ Suzy curled up her lip.
‘It’s fun.’ Tia shrugged. ‘Look—there’s Buzz Lightyear, and who’s that? Batman?’
‘There’s something very sexy about a man in all that black rubber.’ Mum raised an eyebrow.
‘I wouldn’t mind getting my photo taken with those cops.’ Dad smirked.
Mum rolled her eyes at him. She was an eye-rolling champion.
‘What?’ He grinned. ‘We could talk police business over a nice cup of tea!’
‘I’ll get one taken with Batman, then. I wonder where he got that outfit. You could wear one.’ Mum elbowed Dad. ‘It would go with my Catwoman suit.’
‘That’s disgusting!’ Suzy stared at the scantily clad cops. ‘Cheapening yourself like that for the sake of a few pounds.’
‘Well, we can’t all be psychiatrists, can we? Anyway, it’s a laugh.’ I chuckled at a man walking down the Strip wearing hot pants and stilettos. How weird. I suppose anything goes in Vegas. He actually walked better in those high heels than I could, so good luck to him.
‘It’s so tacky,’ Suzy muttered.
‘We’re nearly at the Bellagio.’ Brad leaned into me.
‘I can’t wait to see the fountains going off in time to music,’ I said.
‘Oh, God. More tackiness,’ Suzy moaned. ‘Is that a fake Eiffel Tower?’ She scrunched up her nose.
‘Yeah,’ Hacker said. ‘It’s the Paris hotel.’
Suzy said something under her breath that sounded like ‘Philistines’ and then turned to me. ‘Isn’t there any culture here?’
‘This is culture,’ I said.
‘You call this culture?’ She snorted.
‘Well, i
t’s urban culture. It might not be everyone’s thing, but it’s fun. You should try it sometime. Stop being a party pooper. Go on, just smile. For one second.’
‘Hmph,’ Suzy said.
‘Don’t you teach your clients about laughter therapy?’ I said. ‘That’s a psychological treatment, isn’t it? I read an article about it recently.’
‘There are no scientific benefits to laughter therapy,’ Suzy said.
‘Well, I read that your brain doesn’t know the difference between real laughter and fake laughter, and it releases feel-good endorphins to counteract depression and boost your mood. So try it. On this holiday, you have to laugh at least once an hour.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous.’ She looked at me like I’d just asked her to parade up and down the Strip naked, which no one here would bat an eyelid at anyway.
‘Why not? If it doesn’t work, then prove me wrong. You like doing that.’
‘Yeah, try it.’ Tia took a sip of bubbly and spilled a bit on her leggings. ‘Ooopsie.’ She wiped it off.
‘It can’t hurt, can it?’ I raised a challenging eyebrow at Suzy.
‘I think you should,’ Mum agreed. ‘You need to let your hair down for a change.’
‘My hair is down.’ Suzy ran her hands through her hair and looked at us as if we were speaking Martian. ‘Ha,’ she said flatly. ‘Ha, ha, ha.’ She cocked her head. ‘See? It doesn’t work.’
I resisted the urge to smack her and carried on looking at the swarms of people out the window as I guzzled more champagne.
‘Well, what do you want to do while you’re here, then?’ Dad asked Suzy.
‘I don’t know. There’s an art gallery I wouldn’t mind seeing. And a History of Jazz exhibition.’
But as it turned out, we never got to see any of the things we were looking forward to. And whoever said ‘What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas’ was a big, fat liar!
Chapter 2
‘Wow.’ I stepped out of the limo and looked up at the impressive Bellagio Hotel. Their famous fountain show wasn’t musically singing out and flashing lights at me yet, but Brad had booked a suite overlooking them, so we could watch the show with a birds-eye view any time we wanted. There were hordes of people already milling around, waiting for them to start.
Brad, Mum, Dad, Suzy, and I traipsed through the glitzy hotel, taking it all in as we headed for the check-in desk. A bellboy pushed a trolley full of our luggage behind us. Well, all except my suitcase. Hacker and Tia stayed outside while Hacker took photos. As a techie expert, he’d always had a fondness for photography and camcorders and had treated himself to a new top-of-the-range camera-recorder thing that could do everything—probably even make the tea. He’d had it plastered to his face at every opportunity since it’d come out of the box.
‘Hi. How may I help you?’ a perfectly presented female receptionist asked.
‘We’re here to check in.’ Brad pulled out the printout of his online booking of four suites and handed it over.
‘Great. Welcome to the Bellagio.’ She beamed back at us then turned her attention to a computer screen buried in the counter in front of her.
Brad shot me a smile. I shot one back.
Tap, tap, tap. She entered our information. Frowned. Picked up the printout and then tapped some more. ‘Um… could the reservation be under another name?’
‘No. It was all booked under my name.’ Brad leaned over the counter, trying to get a look at her screen, but it was angled away from us. ‘It’s been booked for a couple of months now.’
‘Is there a problem?’ Dad asked.
Tap, tap, tappety tap. ‘I’m afraid I can’t find a reservation in your name.’
‘But it’s all confirmed,’ I said. ‘And paid for. It says so on that piece of paper.’
‘Hmmm.’ More frowning. ‘I can see that. It’s just that the booking company hasn't passed the reservation through to us. Please wait for a moment.’ She headed off to consult a male member of the staff at the opposite end of the counter.
‘Uh-oh,’ I said, getting a worried feeling.
‘It’s probably just a mix-up.’ Brad shrugged. ‘It’s right there in black and white that it’s booked and paid for. They’ll probably just ring the online tour operator to confirm everything, and we’ll be in our suite in no time.’
Suzy tapped her fingernails on the counter. ‘How incompetent.’
A twenty-something guy walked past and stumbled into Suzy. He had bloodshot eyes and reeked of alcohol, and he looked as if he’d been up all night.
‘Do you mind?’ Suzy glared at him, brushing down the spot where she thought he’d contaminated her.
He swayed on his feet, leaning forward, trying to focus on her. ‘I don’t mind if you don’t.’
‘Ew!’ She scrunched up her face.
‘Laugh, Suzy,’ I said. ‘Ha, ha, ha!’ I threw my head back and chuckled.
She shot me a death glare.
‘You know what you need?’ Drunk Guy slurred at Suzy, emitting a pungent waft of beer breath.
‘What?’ Suzy asked, waving a hand in front of her face to disperse the smell.
‘A slow, comfortable screw.’
‘How disgusting.’ She glared at him.
‘It’s a cocktail, Suzy.’ I laughed again.
The receptionist was now on the phone at the other end of the counter, talking rapidly and looking in our direction. She frowned. Bit her lip. Smiled. Frowned again. Chuckled. Was it good news or bad?
Eventually, she returned and said, ‘Unfortunately, there’s been some kind of computer error, and the tour operator didn’t pass on your booking to us.’
‘Right.’ I laughed nervously. ‘But you’ve confirmed it’s all booked and paid for now, haven’t you? I’m getting married tomorrow, and I need to go and buy a dress, so if you can just check us in now, that would be great.’
‘I’m so sorry for the mix-up, but that’s not possible.’
Drunk Guy belched behind us. Suzy repositioned herself next to Dad.
Mum butted in. ‘Why not? We’re here for a wedding.’
‘I’m afraid that, although the booking is confirmed with the travel company, they failed to inform us or pass on the payment.’
‘Well, you must still have some suites left,’ Brad said. ‘Isn’t it just a matter of them now passing on the payment to you?’
‘There’s a little problem there, I’m afraid.’
‘How little?’ Suzy said.
‘Actually, it’s quite big.’ The receptionist gave an apologetic sigh. ‘The hotel is fully booked at the moment, so we can’t provide any rooms for you. There’s a huge boxing fight on this weekend, which has drawn large crowds of fans and celebrities. Plus, there’s a wedding convention in town this week, and all the chapels are involved. Vegas is trying to get a world record for performing the biggest number of ceremonies in one week.’
‘Well, yes, that’s why we’re here. To get married.’ My voice rose slightly with panic.
‘I understand that, madam, but there’s also a George Clooney convention, a Star Trek convention, and the annual Sex Industry Awards, which all draw massive crowds, and…’ She pursed her lips for a second. ‘I’m afraid we’re fully booked. You’ll need to contact the tour operator to get a refund, and you’ll need to look for alternative accommodation. I’m so sorry.’
‘No,’ I cried. ‘We wanted to stay here!’
She shook her head solemnly. ‘I’m very sorry.’
‘You can stay with me.’ Drunk Guy made a beeline for Suzy and bumped her shoulder again, breathing 100-percent-proof fumes all over her.
‘Get away from me,’ she shrieked.
I looked at Brad. ‘What are we going to do?’
‘Well, it can’t be hard to find somewhere to stay here,’ Dad said. ‘There are hundreds of hotels.’
‘Absolutely.’ Mum put a hand on my shoulder. ‘We’ll just find somewhere else.’ She gave me a confident smile.
So far, the perfect
start to our holiday wasn’t working out at all the way I’d envisioned it. I wanted to stamp my foot and throw a tantrum, but I knew that would just be childish and wouldn’t do any good. And it wasn’t the Bellagio’s fault. The stupid tour operator should have taken care of this. The queue to check in was piling up behind us with people huffing and puffing because we were taking too long.
‘So, where are we supposed to go?’ I asked the receptionist.
‘Here’s a list of all the hotels on the Strip and some just off it.’ She handed me a little booklet. ‘And there are some apartments and motels farther away, listed in the back. I’m sure you won’t have any trouble finding somewhere else.’ She said that last part a little unconvincingly. ‘Once again, I’m very sorry for the mix-up on the part of your travel company.’
‘Right,’ I muttered, in a bit of a shocked daze, as we wandered towards some large sofas to sit down and work out our next move.
‘This is ridiculous,’ Suzy said, keeping one eye on Drunk Guy at the counter so he didn’t accost her again.
‘I’ll just start ringing round the hotels and see what else is available.’ Brad pulled out his mobile phone.
I did the same. ‘Good idea. Maybe we can go to the MGM or the Venetian.’ Even though I was disappointed and had my heart set on the Bellagio, there were loads of other fabulous places to choose from.
One by one, we all phoned various hotels—apart from Suzy, who said she needed to freshen up and disappeared to the ladies’ room. My heart rate spiked every time one of us got an answer. The hotels were all either fully booked or only had one or two rooms left. But I wasn’t going to be beaten. There had to be somewhere to stay.
We worked our way down the list, past all the good ones and on to the smaller budget ones and motels that we’d never heard of and weren’t listed in my guidebook of fab accommodations. Forty-five minutes later, Mum, Dad, and I had exhausted the list with no luck. Mum flashed Dad a worried glance. I turned to Brad, who was still on the phone, and gnawed on my lip.
Brad held his hand over the mouthpiece, consulting us. ‘OK, there’s a motel called Hell of a Place not too far from the Strip that has four rooms left. Shall we go over and check it out?’