by Sibel Hodge
‘Fabulous.’
‘This is so cool.’ Tia glanced around the room at the photos of movie and rock stars on the walls. ‘It’s great to be back in the States. I haven’t been back for ages.’
An Asian waiter, who introduced himself as Thang, gave us a beaming smile as he handed out some menus.
I perused mine quickly. It didn’t take long for me to decide on something completely unhealthy. ‘Cheeseburger and fries.’ I put the menu down. ‘And a chocolate thick shake. I’m in junk-food paradise here.’ Luckily, I could eat for England, and my weight stayed the same.
‘Do you actually know what’s in a burger?’ Brad raised an eyebrow at me. ‘Or how the cows are treated? Or how many hormones and antibiotics they’re pumped with?’
I shrugged and pointed to the description. ‘Look, it says it comes with pickles and tomato sauce. Pickles and tomatoes are both vegetables, aren’t they? So, I’m probably having at least two of my five a day right there. And extra hormones might make my boobs grow.’
Brad shook his head. ‘Where’s all the real food?’ He peered at the menu.
‘This is America. There isn’t any,’ Tia said proudly.
‘I’m having a steak sandwich,’ Dad said.
‘The burger sounds great. I’ll have a triple bacon cheeseburger with fries,’ Tia said. She was as bad as me.
‘Roasted vegetable salad, I suppose it’ll have to be,’ Brad said.
‘Yeah, I’ll go for that, too,’ Hacker agreed.
‘How about some nice greasy fries with it?’ I elbowed him. ‘You’ll need more than a salad. You need to keep your strength up.’
‘At least I’ll still be alive because I won’t be eating a heart-attack burger.’ Brad arched an eyebrow.
Thang reappeared and took our order. When he got to Suzy, he stood, pen poised over his pad. ‘And what can I get you?’
‘I’ll have beef fajitas but no onions, please.’
‘OK.’
‘And I want the peppers on the side.’
‘All the vegetables are cooked with the beef in the same pan, and then it’s brought out on a sizzler.’
‘Well, I don’t want my peppers with it. I want them on the side.’
Thang scribbled that down, plastering a customer-is-always-right smile on his face and probably wondering how long it would take to pick the peppers out and put them on a separate plate. ‘OK.’ He went to walk off, but Suzy stopped him.
‘What does your guacamole have in it?’
‘Um… avocados, tomatoes, garlic, jalapeno peppers, and spices.’
‘I don’t want any avocados in it.’
‘But that’s the whole basis for the sauce.’ Thang looked confused.
Suzy shrugged. ‘No avocados.’
‘Right. So you, um, want a sauce with just tomatoes, garlic, peppers, and spices?’
‘Yes. But no tomatoes.’
I rolled my eyes. We’d be here all day at this rate.
‘Oookaaaay.’ Thang scribbled some more. ‘Is that it?’
Suzy nodded.
After Thang left, I heard ‘Omigod’ and ‘Do you think it’s really him?’ coming from a table behind. I glanced over. Several women in their early twenties were staring at Hacker.
I elbowed him. ‘I bet they think you’re Snoop Dogg, too.’
Hacker sank down low in the booth. ‘Oh, shit. I need a disguise.’
We chatted over lunch but fortunately weren’t disturbed by Snoop’s fan club. Afterwards, Brad and I left the rest of the family to head off to the Wedding Bureau, arranging to meet up with them that night for dinner at a Chinese restaurant in one of the casinos. Tia and Hacker were going to spend the afternoon checking out some of the themed hotels, and Mum and Dad were going to try their hand at craps. I dreaded to think what that was. Why a game was named after a bowel movement was beyond me. They might as well have called it poops. Or dumps.
‘I think I’m going to go the whole eight days without gambling,’ I told Brad as we pulled up in the taxi outside the Bureau. ‘The only machine I'm ever going to win from in this city is the ATM.’
As we headed inside, I was slightly nervous about what else might go wrong. To save time, we’d filled out our wedding-license application online and paid our fee already so we could go to the ‘express’ window. But our online transactions hadn’t exactly gone according to plan so far, and I was bracing myself for more bad news. What if there was another mix-up and they hadn’t processed our application? What if their computers had crashed, and there was a big queue, and we had to cancel our wedding tomorrow because we couldn’t get our license in time? What if the staff were on strike?
Everything will go like clockwork, Amber. Stop it!
I am the queen of what-ifs, and I do admit to being slightly neurotic sometimes. But I didn’t want to think any more bad thoughts about my ruined holiday in case it jinxed something else. I was turning over a new leaf. I took a deep breath and forced the negativity away.
The queue for the walk-in people was a mile long. One couple was already dressed in wedding gear. At least I think they were. The guy wore black motorbike leathers with red flames, and she had a rubber catsuit with matching flames. Mum would’ve died for it. I wished them luck ripping off each other’s kit after the wedding. In this heat, all that rubber and leather would be a bugger to get out of. They could be stuck in those outfits for days. They actually looked as if they’d fit right in at our motel. There was another bride dressed as Amy Winehouse. Another dressed as a Smurf, for some odd reason, and then there was…
‘Look, it’s George Clooney!’ I elbowed Brad.
George was looking hot with his salt-and-pepper hair, sporting a beard that was a bit more pepper than salt. He had his arm around a leggy brunette with long hair and glittery eye shadow.
‘That’s not the real George Clooney,’ Brad said. ‘There’s a convention in town. They get all these look-alikes coming.’
I squinted again. He was a pretty good likeness—maybe a little shorter than the real George but not bad.
We passed an older guy who seemed as if he wanted to be anywhere other than standing next to the woman he was with. ‘There are three rings in a marriage,’ he said to the guy in front. ‘The engagement ring, the wedding ring, and the suffering.’
‘Hey!’ His bride-to-be poked him hard in the ribs.
‘What? I keep telling you I don’t want to get married again. Six times is enough for me.’
We walked past the horde to the express window, which was thankfully queue-less.
Phewee!
Five minutes later, paperwork in hand, I followed Brad outside and threw my arms around his neck. ‘Only one more day to go!’
‘See, I told you all that trouble with the hotel booking and the dress was just a blip. Nothing else can possibly go wrong.’
Chapter 4
After christening the red silky sheets in Hell’s bedroom, Brad and I hit the shower, where we very thoroughly tested out the complimentary red strawberry body wash on each other. Refreshed and invigorated, we headed back to the Strip to the Chinese restaurant in one of the casinos where we’d arranged to meet the others for dinner.
Hand in hand, a happy, excited little flutter in my belly, we rode up the escalators and walked through some shops into the casino area, where the air conditioning was on full blast in Icelandic mode, pumping freezing-cold oxygen into the atmosphere to make all the gamblers stay awake longer. Even polar bears would’ve been freezing their furry arses off in the place. The sounds of jingling coins and slot machines pinging and bursts of music filtered around us.
There were a couple of female dancers in very tiny black shorts and matching black bras dancing on a small runway between the roulette tables, but the men playing weren’t interested. Their eyes were fully fixed on the ball bouncing over the spinning wheel in front of them.
We went into the restaurant and stood at the busy bar.
‘I’m just going to check in,’ Brad
said, leaving me there to order drinks while he queued up to speak to the maître d’.
I hovered from foot to foot, surveying the cocktail menu. I was going to get pleasantly drunk tonight. Not too much—not so I’d be hungover for the wedding—but a few drinkies would be a nice start to the prewedding party.
Now, what shall I have? A cosmo? A mojito? A screaming orgasm? I decided I’d order one of those for Suzy. Then I found the perfect Vegas drink: a sinful strip.
Ooooh, yeah. I can get nice and merry and do one later for Brad.
‘Can I help you?’ asked a bartender with long hair tied back in a ponytail.
‘Absolutely.’ I grinned. ‘Can I have a sinful strip, and a glass of red wine for my husband, please?’ OK, almost my husband, but I was practising the words rolling off my tongue, and they sounded pretty damn good.
He studied me for a moment. ‘Have you got any ID?’
‘Ha ha!’ I laughed, thinking he was joking. ‘Good one!’
He didn’t laugh. His face was deadly serious. ‘I need to see some ID, please.’
I pointed to myself. ‘I’m thirty-five!’ No one had asked me for ID since I’d sneaked into the pub when I was sixteen after I’d stolen Suzy’s driving license because she was older than me.
‘If you don’t have any ID, then you need to step away from the bar.’
‘What?’ I laughed again. Maybe Brad had told him to wind me up or something for a joke.
He made some flicky hand motions at me, which I thought were rather rude, actually. ‘You can’t stand at the bar if you have no ID.’
‘I’m thirty-five,’ I repeated, just in case he hadn’t heard me the first time.
‘No ID, no drink.’ He turned away and went to serve someone else, leaving me there with my mouth hanging open.
‘Have you ordered the drinks yet?’ Brad asked when he returned.
‘They wouldn’t serve me! I’m dying for a drink, too.’ I explained what had happened.
Brad laughed at my indignant face. ‘Well, look on the bright side. At least they think you look younger than you are. Isn’t that what all women want?’
‘Not this woman. I wanted a sinful strip.’
Mum, Dad, Tia, Hacker, and Suzy piled in then.
‘Did you see those dancers?’ Suzy asked. ‘They had absolutely no rhythm. They were so wooden. I could do better than them.’
I cocked an eyebrow and snorted. ‘You? Doing sexy dancing? Right. I’d love to see that.’
Suzy opened her mouth to say something, but the maître d’ called our name, and we were led to an outside seating area that was cornered off from the Strip by glass panels.
‘Hi, I’m Bonnie,’ the waitress said, handing out the menus. ‘Are you ready to order drinks?’ She looked at me.
More than ready!
‘Yes, can I have a sinful strip, please?’ I smiled.
She wrote that down while Brad cast me a sly smile.
‘Oooh, I think I’ll have one of those, too,’ Tia said.
‘I want a martini with the olive on the side,’ Suzy said.
‘No problem.’ The waitress turned to Hacker. ‘Omigod!’ Her hand flew to her mouth.
Hacker slunk back in his seat, knowing what was coming.
‘You’re him, aren’t you?’
Hacker shook his head profusely. If his skin hadn't been a lovely dark shade of brown, his cheeks would’ve been turning red. ‘No, I’m not.’
She giggled and thrust her pad towards him. ‘Can you autograph this for me?’
Hacker groaned and looked to Tia for help, but she thought it was fun and did her snorty laugh at him.
‘Go on, please!’ Bonnie said, looking starstruck.
‘Just sign it, Snoop,’ I said, grabbing the pad and forcing it into his hand. I wanted my drink in a hurry after the day I’d had.
‘Yeah, go on.’ Tia nudged him, giggling. ‘Think of all your fans.’
Reluctantly, Hacker squiggled something on it then handed it back. Luckily there was only one other occupied table outside, right in the corner, and the people sitting there wouldn't be able to see what was happening and further add to Hacker’s embarrassment.
‘Great! Thanks!’ Bonnie did an excited little wiggle and then hurried off to get our drinks.
‘You need to wear a disguise,’ Dad said to Hacker.
‘Someone thought your father was Michael Caine in a restaurant in London once,’ Mum said.
‘He doesn’t look anything like Michael Caine,’ Suzy scoffed. ‘Were they blind?’
‘He was Japanese,’ Mum said.
‘No, he wasn’t,’ Suzy said. ‘Michael Caine was English.’
Bonnie returned with a tray of drinks. ‘Sinful strip for you.’ She placed a drink in front of Tia. And one virgin sinful strip for you.’ She placed it in front of me.
‘Er… what do you mean? I haven’t been a virgin for a long time.’
‘Sorry, but you don’t have any ID. Kert told me.’ She pulled an apologetic face and glanced over her shoulder at the grumpy long-haired barman, who was glaring at me through the glass window.
Damn. ‘But this is Vegas, city of sin. I need my sinful strip!’ I thought you could get anything here, but apparently not alcohol. I made a mental note to bring my passport out next time.
She handed out the other drinks as I curled my lip up at mine. Then I had a brainwave. ‘Oh, look over there.’ I pointed to the other side of the Strip. ‘Isn’t that Shakira?’
‘Where?’ Tia craned her neck, and I swapped my glass with hers.
‘No, it isn’t.’ Mum squinted into the distance. ‘It’s a man in drag. His hair looks very nice, doesn’t it? How does he manage to get those nice spiral curls? I’m not sure the beard actually goes with it, though.’
‘Not him!’ Suzy pointed to someone else. ‘Her, over there with the long dress. It’s not Shakira. I think it’s Beyoncé.’
As they debated who it was, I gulped my drink before Grumpy Face could come and confiscate it. Ha! Take that, Mr Hand Flicker!
Brad looked at me and grinned.
‘So, anyway.’ Mum eventually dragged her gaze away from whoever it was and leaned her elbows on the table. ‘Tomorrow morning at ten, us ladies have all got massages booked at the spa in the Bellagio! I sorted it out this afternoon.’
‘Fabulous,’ I said. ‘I meant to book that, but with everything going on, I forgot. That’s just the ticket.’
‘Then we can have a nice little girlie lunch before the wedding and some cocktails before getting ready together,’ Tia said.
Suzy was still staring at Drag King-Shakira-Beyoncé.
‘You can’t see me before the wedding,’ I told Brad. ‘You can get ready in Dad’s or Hacker’s room.’
‘OK.’
‘What are we doing after the wedding?’ Suzy asked.
‘Something that involves alcohol,’ I said.
‘We’ll go for drinks somewhere, then afterwards we’re going to the Stratosphere for predinner cocktails and a meal at their award-winning Top of the World restaurant. It’s got an amazing view of the Strip when it revolves three hundred sixty degrees every eighty minutes.’ Brad took my hand and threaded his fingers through mine.
‘Haven’t you planned where you’re having drinks?’ Suzy asked.
‘No, we wanted it to be spontaneous,’ I said.
She made a noise that sounded like a tut. ‘When I get married, everything is going to be planned out to the last detail.’
‘You have to find a man first,’ I said, which might’ve been a tad nasty, but I’d forgotten how hard it was to spend any length of time in her company without her grating on me. Usually, I only saw her at Mum and Dad’s house for meals, and then I could escape. ‘Actually, we’ve been talking about that.’
‘We?’ Suzy asked.
‘OK then, me. And I think you need a holiday romance.’
She gave me a haughty glare. ‘I don’t need a man. I’m perfectly happy on my own, thank y
ou very much.’
‘Yes, but are you? Because you never actually seem happy.’ I wanted some of my happiness to rub onto her. ‘What about him?’ I pointed to a man who was being shown to a table opposite us. He was dressed as Frank Sinatra, in a grey suit, black shirt with cufflinks, and a grey fedora hat.
Suzy glanced over and tutted again.
‘No one needs a man,’ Mum said. ‘But you should share your life with someone. It makes it that much richer.’ She squeezed Dad’s hand. ‘With your attitude, you’re going to end up a lonely old spinster.’ Mum elbowed Suzy and jerked her head at Frank Sinatra. ‘He looks like fun. Why not go and chat him up?’
‘Don’t be ridiculous! Why does he look like fun? He could be a serial killer.’
‘Because he’s dressed up,’ Mum said. ‘You’ve got to have a sense of fun to dress up and parade around.’
‘What about him, then?’ I pointed to a man dressed in a Freddy Krueger outfit, weaving down the strip and drinking a yellow cocktail out of a huge plastic glass that looked like the Eiffel Tower.
‘He’s drunk,’ Suzy snapped. ‘And his nails are too pointy.’
‘You can’t afford to be too picky at your age,’ Mum said.
‘Well, I’m going to find someone for you this holiday if it kills me.’ I wagged my finger at Suzy. ‘And failing that…’ I pulled a pink gift-wrapped package out of my bag. ‘I bought this for you earlier.’ I slid it across the table towards her.
She eyed it like it was a ticking time bomb.
‘Go on—open it.’ I picked it up and waved it in her face so she had no other option.
She sighed and unwrapped it. Then her mouth fell open and her cheeks flushed as she saw the new vibrator.
‘It’s medical-grade silicone.’ I nodded knowingly. ‘Much better than those plastic ones.’
Mum eyed it with longing. Tia did her snorty laugh. Hacker stared hard at the menu. Dad tried to keep a straight face and pretended he was studying his cutlery.
Brad whispered to me, ‘Hmmm, maybe we should’ve got one for us since the other one’s been blown up.’
‘Don’t forget to take the batteries out when we fly back to the UK,’ Tia said.
