The California Club: LoveTravel Series - USA

by Belinda Jones

  The next thing I hear is:

  'Ladies and gentlemen, we will shortly be arriving in beautiful San Diego, California. The temperature is an idyllic 78 degrees and on behalf of myself and the crew, I wish you a magical stay.'

  Suddenly my body surges with hope. Perhaps I'm being given one last chance? After all, this is America, land of dreams! Anything is possible! Maybe the mere fact that we're in a new environment will make him see me in a new way!

  I cross my fingers and make a wish 'Let him love me!' – just as we bump down on to the runway.

  Chapter 4

  Judging by the trepidation on the faces surrounding the luggage carousel, people have a greater fear of losing their luggage than they do of flying.

  ‘It’s funny how the first round of suitcases never seem to get touched,' I muse as I watch them rotate.

  ‘And then there’s always some over-eager type who pulls off someone else’s case and then has to heave it back on to a crammed line-up.’

  ‘And then it jams and holds up the whole thing,’ Zoe notes as that exact thing happens.

  ‘Here we go!’ Elliot reappears, having rounded up a pair of carts.

  'We'll share this one.' Elise latches on to the first before shunting the other towards the rest of us.

  I don't want to have to say thank you out loud in her direction so I let it rattle to a halt of its own accord.

  'There's mine!' Zoë lunges for her fake Louis Vuitton, loading it onto the cart with a WWF grunt.

  'Ours! Quick!' Elise commands Elliot.

  Sasha is next.

  But I continue to wait.

  And wait.

  We haven't yet had the essential burst-in-transit case spilling embarrassing undies so I don't give up hope just yet. Maybe if I look away it'll come. It really is a beautiful airport – so light and airy with vast seaglass green windows looking out onto a parade of palm trees and giant earthenware pots set with aloe vera and other spiky succelents. I can’t wait to get out into that sunshine!

  I turn back to find Elliot shoving the books he was reading on the flight into his suitcase to lighten his backpack, prompting Sasha to do the same. But as she pushes her geisha saga in one side, it forces a work of nonfiction out the other. Elise swoops on it before Sasha even realizes what has happened.

  'Repacking Your Baggage!' she reads. 'God how anal – traveling with a book on packing!'

  Sasha blushes and tries to snatch it away from her.

  'Oh no! Even worse! It's one of those self-help books,' Elise takes a closer look. '''How to release the dead weight of your past and carry only uplifting essentials." Talk about taking coals to Newcastle. Don't you think there's enough of this mind-cult nonsense in California?'

  Elise thinks this is hysterical. Sasha looks plain mortified.

  'You're not really into this are you, Sash?' Elliot looks concerned.

  'Someone recommended it,' Sasha mumbles as she retrieves the book and rams it back in her case, but in the bluster a further three spill out.

  I quickly gather them up to protect them from prying eyes – all except my own. Louise Hay's Self-Esteem Affirmations, One Day My Soul Just Opened Up, by Iylana Vanzant and Getting the Love You Want. I wouldn't mind reading the last one but I'm as surprised as Elliot that Sasha's into DIY psychology. Maybe it's to do with her giving up modeling – she's got a whole new life ahead of her so she's having an emotional spring-clean before she moves forward. Well, good for her!

  'Have you read Barbara Sher's Live the Life You Love?' I venture.

  'Oh not you too!' Elise rolls her eyes.

  'It's really good.' I ignore Elise. 'Plain-talking but practical – and funny too.’

  Sensing Sasha wants the topic dropped I turn back to the carousel. 'Come on, customized wonder-case!'

  Right now I'd even settle for mine to be the one trailing thongs and tatty bras, but there's no sign of it. More worrying still, bags are no longer being spat from the shute.

  We wait a further ten minutes before I face the fact that, for once, the queasy anxiety that my suitcase didn't make it is founded.

  As I fill out the appropriate forms the others reassure me that it's going to be fine and I'll have my case back by tomorrow. I’m not convinced - so far this trip isn’t exactly going according to plan….

  'You know you're welcome to borrow anything of mine,' Sasha offers as we trundle towards Customs.

  ‘Thanks but I'd look like a stilt-walker who forgot her stilts.'

  'We're the same size!' Zoë pips.

  'Where?' I splutter, surveying her wondrous curves – what I wouldn't give for a cleavage you didn't have to winch together.

  'We’re the same height,' Zoë grasps at straws.

  I notice Elise isn't offering to loan me anything. Not her own clothes anyway.

  'Surely Helen can sort you out?' she reasons, not knowing what an unlikely prospect this would be.

  Helen, bless her, is trapped in some kind of ultra-conservative time-warp – her trademark look is peg-pleat trousers and a gold chain worn over a turtleneck sweater. Not particularly offensive to the general populous but a classic case of What Not To Wear, as far as Zoë's concerned – unless an outfit can double as a Christmas decoration she's just not interested.

  I wonder how Helen's wardrobe has adjusted to suit the hotter weather. I have a feeling she'll be in knee-length skirts and logo'd polo shirts. So not me. Not that I'm any great style icon – my knack for accessorizing is restricted to rooms. I can hunt down the most inspiring vase to become the focal point for a whole room but when it comes to shopping for clothes I buy variations on the same theme over and over, mistaking recognition for desire. If I'm honest, being without my suitcase doesn't so much deprive me of fourteen outfits as one outfit fourteen times.

  'Lara!' Elliot snaps his fingers in front of my face. 'Where'd you go?'

  For a moment I stare stupidly into his eyes, unable to flick back to 'just your pal' quick enough.

  ‘Do you want to put that on here?' Elliot tugs at the strap of my outsize shoulder bag.

  I look at his khaki canvas suitcase nestling beside Elise's hard shell and shake my head. 'I'm okay,' I insist. Even carry-on luggage can be prone to gooseberry complexes.

  ‘Can anyone see her?’ Zoe cranes ahead as we approach Arrivals.

  'I don't even know what she looks like!' Elise grumbles.

  'Light brown hair, dead straight, probably tied tight back,' Zoë starts at the top.

  'Always burgundy lipstick and little gold hoops in her ears,' I fill in the details. 'Beauty spot just below her left eye.'

  'I never noticed that.' Elliot scrunches his brow. 'Like the one on your lip?'

  My hand goes to my mouth. He noticed mine!

  ‘I thought she'd be standing here with a clipboard ready to tick us all off.' Elliot pictures the scene.

  'Handing out copies of the itinerary …' I have the same image in my head.

  'Does anyone know what she's got planned for us?' Sasha queries.

  'She was really vague when I asked her,' I admit, only now realizing how out of character that was. 'She just kept saying she'd tell us when we got here.'

  I don't want to say this out loud but I have a suspicion that my impending birthday has got something to do with the secrecy – I turn thirty in a few days and there's no way Helen is going to let that milestone go by without a bang. I grin to myself-how fun that it's going to be as much of a surprise for the others as it will be for me. I don't mind what we do, I'm just chuffed that we'll all be doing it together.

  No sooner has that thought formed in my head than Elise shoots it down.

  'I suppose we'll be doing our own thing most days,' she predicts with an underlying threat. 'I mean, you can't expect six individuals to all be satisfied doing the same things.’

  ‘It's never been a problem before,' Sasha counters, instantly wise to Elise's Elliot-snatching plan.

  'Yeah, we have a good time whatever we do,' Zoë and I agree, ke
en to let her know we won't be letting Elliot go without a fight.

  'Well, I'm sure we'll meet up in the evenings,' Elise faux-soothes, retreating behind Elliot.

  Sasha, Zoë and myself exchange a dubious look. She'll never make a musketeer, that one.

  Elliot, meanwhile, is oblivious to the tug-of-war going on around him, his mind still on Helen. 'I wonder if she's going to cook for us,' he ponders. 'I've had dreams about her Sunday roasts!'

  'Oooooh!' We all go ga-ga at the memory. And not just of the food. We used to have quite a routine going. While Helen set a-basting Elliot would get the papers, then – once we'd eaten ourselves silly – Sasha would offload the freebie beauty products she'd acquired that week and Zoë would apply them to us all, Elliot included, while we read the papers to her. Early evening I'd go down the video shop and choose three movies – one comedy, one indie, one classic – that everyone except me would intermittently kip through.

  It was then my job to fill in any gaps in the plot succinctly and evocatively. I loved it! I was the sentry who would not sleep!

  'Remember how we'd swear we wouldn't eat another thing all day and then come teatime Helen would get out all those homemade cakes…'

  'And now she's doing it as a job!'

  'I can't believe she's given up a career in the board room to make cupcakes,' Elliot laughs.

  'God, I know – I'd be a complete ball if I was a pastry chef,' Zoë groans.

  'Is Helen overweight?' Elise perks up.

  'Just a regular size 10,' I happily rain on her parade. 'She's actually ideally suited to the job because she never eats dessert.'

  'Yeah, she used to cook us these amazing chocolate mousse cakes and never so much as dip her little finger,' Elliot confirms.

  'And it's not that she hasn't got a sweet tooth,' Zoë chips in, 'she's just got this amazing self-discipline.'

  Elise frowns, 'I don't get it. Why would she surround herself with all that temptation? Are you sure she hasn't got some kind of eating disorder?’

  ‘Definitely not,' I shake my head. 'It's only sweets she avoids.'

  'And yet she cooks them on a daily basis?' Elise is still struggling with the concept.

  'The thing is, she's good at it,' I explain. 'And she likes to bring people pleasure – like with us, it was enough just to see the look on our faces when we'd take a bite of her latest creation.'

  'That's Helen, isn't it?' Sasha sighs. 'She loves to see her friends happy. I miss her worrying for us and interfering in our lives. It's not the same over email.'

  We all concur and then look hopefully for a sign saying Hel's Beau-Belles amid the Mr Esposito and Clark Family cards. Nothing.

  'If she's going to be a while, I'm going to the restroom.' Elliot darts off.

  Elise watches him until he disappears from view and then tugs at Sasha's peasant sleeve: 'Got any more candy?’

  I'm desperate for her to say: 'No, and you should know because you scoffed the last handful!' but of course Sasha's far too passive and settles for a simple, 'Sorry, all gone!’

  'I don't know where you put it all!' Elise chimes in, before continuing her cadging mission with a request for chewing gum.

  'There's a kiosk right there,' I say, pointing behind her.

  'Oh, I can wait. I'll get some later.' She dismisses my suggestion until Elliot rejoins us. 'Unless you want something, bunny?'

  'What's that?'

  'You want some gum?' she coos, pinching his chin.

  'That'd be great, I can still taste that burrito from the plane,' he grimaces.

  'Can you get me some while you're there?' Elise propels him in the direction of the kiosk.

  That woman seems to have a serious aversion to buying anything with her own money.

  'Wait! I'll come with you,' I volunteer. 'Anyone else want anything?'

  'Just water, sparkling if they've got it,' says Sasha, reaching into her purse.

  'That's okay!' I wave her hand away.

  ‘Get us some water too,' Elise calls after Elliot.

  Get us some water! What are you – two humps, one camel?

  Duds. Nips. Tootsie Rolls. American candy sure has some funny names.

  'Look at this – who are they marketing to with a bar called Big Hunk?'

  'Why you – as a present for me, of course!' Elliot reasons.

  I chuckle then get a stab of nerves. This is my first moment alone with Elliot since The Announcement and I feel I should really say something poignant and congratulatory. I quickly try out a few test runs in my mind but I can't seem to give any sentence that contains the words 'Elise' and 'engagement' a positive spin. There's only one thing for it – bravado!

  'You're getting married!' I give Elliot what I mean to be a playful punch on the arm but my true feelings turbo-charge my fist.

  'Ow!' he yelps, nursing his biceps. 'Yes, I am. Since when did that warrant assault?'

  I laugh along but think to myself: 'When the groom needs some sense knocking into him.'

  'So, what do you think?' he asks, turning to me and looking for a second as if my opinion might make a difference.

  I look away, not wanting him to read my expression.

  'It's disgusting!' I cry.

  'What?!' Elliot gasps.

  ‘That gum, it's wintergreen!' I point to the pack he's just picked up.

  'It's all the same, isn't it?' Elliot frowns, trying to find the ingredients.

  'Tastes like Germolene mixed with minicab air freshener,' I assure him, grateful for the diversion.

  Before Elliot can steer me back on topic Elise barges between us.

  'What's taking so long?' she whinges, snatching the gum out of Elliot's hand.

  I watch with bemusement as she scrumples through the wrapping as if in search of Willy Wonka's golden ticket.

  'Lara and I were just talking about the wedding,' he informs her.

  'You haven't told her?' Elise halts before the gum reaches her mouth.

  'Nooo,' Elliot shakes his head.

  'Told me what?' I croak. Can it get any worse?

  'Nothing!' they chorus.

  I feel uneasy. I can't even begin to imagine the wedding day Elise might have in mind – but I suspect the guests would have to supply their own dinner, after ‘crowd-funding’ her dress.

  'Urgh!' Elise spits, mouth shriveling to a shrewish pinch. 'What flavor is this?'

  I smile to myself - I think I'm about to acquire a new taste.

  We’re just heading back to rejoin Sasha and Zoë when we're ambushed by a flap of flip-flops and flail of arms. I try to focus but all I can see is a blur of sun-streaked, sea-straggled hair whinnying with glee.

  We recoil as one, causing the blonde banshee to cease pogoing. She stands panting and grinning before us, seemingly awaiting a reaction.

  I see freckles. New ones – her skin has a brown base but strong pink accents as though some rays snuck through sunscreen this very morning and she hasn't had a chance to bronze over them. Her outfit is a tangy selection of citrus brights. She looks shiny and fresh and supernaturally happy.

  Elliot is the first to speak, gingerly trying out the word: 'Helen?'

  'Come here, you!' She flings her arms around Elliot, squeezing him as if she's trying to pop a beanbag.

  We gawp and peer closer, hands reaching out to touch her, as if that might prompt some sensory recognition.

  ‘Is it really you?' I locate her beauty spot amid the freckles.

  'Lara!' she cheers, throwing herself at me.

  Though semi-obscured by the hood of her top, I see Sasha and Zoë approach, exchange an incredulous look, then merge squealing and bouncing into the hug.

  Elise just looks confused, as if peeved that she wasn't in on the 'before' shots of the transformation.

  ‘And you must be the future Mrs Harvey!'

  Elise takes my smile and smears it over her own face. Helen knows? She knows they're engaged! She must have given her seal of approval, not that she's ever met Elise … I don't understand.
Why would Elliot tell her before the rest of us? And how could Helen have kept such a bombshell to herself? Surely she could have warned me? I watch her take Elise's arm and think, Who is this woman?

  'Don't worry, they haven't been playing a trick on you!' Helen comforts Elise. 'I'm not quite the same person I was a year ago.’

  ‘Is that a real tattoo?' I notice the wave motif on her ankle.

  'How does that jewel stay on your toe?' Zoë magpies in on the twinkles.

  'You look amazing!' Elliot speaks for all of us.

  'Nearly as blonde as you now, Sash,' Helen smooths Sasha's silky veil.

  'And nearly as tanned as me!' Zoë giggles, comparing an arm.

  Helen takes a deep breath, assessing us one by one, looking fit to burst. 'So!' she grins, keen eyes sparkling. 'How was the flight?'

  'Forget the flight! What's going on with you? What's happened?'

  She goes to speak, then checks herself. 'I'll tell you later.'

  'Tell us now!' Zoë insists.

  'I'll tell you over tea,’ she negotiates. ‘The top of the Jensens' wedding cake got dive-bombed by a seagull so we've got loads of free cake.'

  And, just like that, things take a turn for the better.

  Chapter 5

  ‘Got your camera?' Helen queries Elliot as he heaves the last piece of luggage into the back of Helen's silver SUV.

  'Right here,' Elliot taps his hip pouch.

  'If you want sit up front, you'll get some great shots going over the bridge to Coronado.'

  In one move Elliot leaps to the front seat, eagerly training his lens on the windscreen in preparation.

  'Room for one more.' Helen holds open the passenger door.

  'You go, Lara – you got the raw deal on the plane,' Sasha prompts.

  'Well,' I hesitate, noticing Elise's pointy-toe hovering over the step.

  'Come on, up you go!' Zoë blunders in front of her, boosting me up alongside Elliot.

  In the rearview mirror I watch Elise scoot along into the seat behind the steering wheel. Then I see her eyes flash with panic – she's just realized she is not connected to Elliot on either a vertical or horizontal plane, and there's a whole gearbox obstructing her diagonal reach! She goes to switch places with Sasha who's just settling into the middle seat, but it's too late. Zoë is bumping them closer as she takes the other window spot, then Helen clunks the sliding door into place and seals her fate.