1
There is no job more glamorous than being a professional singer. My limbs are aching from spending the forty-minute trip to Alicante airport hunched on top of three suitcases, squashed in the back of a minivan that whiffed of long-dead sandwiches and stale cigarettes, listening to my support band, the Dollz, bicker about the inconvenience of having to do three back-to-back one-hour shows in Las Vegas, with only two nights off to gamble our earnings away. Even though all of our expenses are paid for, and it is the trip of a lifetime, it just goes to show that they can still find something to moan about.
I stare at Matteo’s last message to me. A request to ‘talk’ as soon as we land at Harry Reid International Airport a few miles outside of Las Vegas. He has attached a photo of me and my classical singing partner, Luke, kissing on stage last night.
I frantically message Matteo back to say that Luke kissed me.Hekissedme. Not the other way around. When he doesn’t reply to the message – perhaps sending it ten times in a row is a bit much – I try to phone him, but his phone is switched off. It will be in flight mode as he is flying from LA to Las Vegas to see me. To spend a full week in my adorable, witty and definitelynotadulterous company. I shove my phone back in my pocket. Poor Matteo. Poor, poor Matteo the Magnificent. With his dreamy, kind eyes and his gorgeous face. The last thing he will want to see is Luke kissing me on stage. It was all very innocent on my side. Luke had leaned in at the end of the song, blaming an unusually strong gravitational pull, and because he had me in a vice-like grip, there wasn’t much I could do about it. He has a massive unrequited crush on me that does not seem to go away no matter how much I tell him I’m in love with another man. The kiss, about as enjoyable as Lyme disease, lasted a nanosecond, and I was extremely annoyed with him. And it is only a matter of time before everyone finds out about it and gives me a hard time.
Unfortunately, to add to my woes, on arrival at Alicante airport, there has been a confirmed sighting of Luke, and we are all severely spooked. I am quietly hyperventilating while we unpack our bags and make our way through to the check-in desks. As I stand in line, I am fully aware that I am to blame for allowing this horrific love-triangle-type situation to develop.
‘Which way did he go?’ bellows Big Sue, making her way back from a quick sweep of the immediate area to the check-in desk, where we are trying to offload our many, many suitcases. We are ridiculously over the weight limit. We are all dressed like cheap, down-on-their-luck Barbies and Kens because of a series of small mishaps over the costumes for my newly engaged best friends’ pre-wedding celebration (it is definitely not a stag do and is infinitely more elegant and tasteful), and we are set for a week of utter mayhem unless I can get to grips with our overfilled schedule. And, somehow, in the midst of it all, convince Matteo that I have no feelings whatsoever for Luke.
Liberty points to the security area. ‘He went that way.’
Big Sue puts a cupped hand to her brow, even though we are inside, screws her eyes, and sweeps her gaze around the busy terminal. ‘So, that’s a ten four on the security breach. We’ll have to intercept the target at the gate.’
She has gone into full military mode. Also, she is dressed as Gangsta Ken and looks quite menacing with it.
‘What’s he playing at?’ booms Big Mand, crossing the terminal back towards us. ‘I hope his next shite’s a hedgehog.’ She is a midwife and has a lot to do with the business end of things.
‘Are you sure there aren’t any flights leaving today for England, Norway, Sweden…’ An idea suddenly pings into my mind. ‘Or Santorini? He mentioned Santorini once. Wherever that is.’
Big Sue shakes her head. ‘The only two flights leaving this morning are our one to Las Vegas, and one to somewhere no one has ever heard of.’
‘Why would he follow Connie all the way to Las Vegas?’ says Liberty. ‘Unless she has driven him to it with her micro-cheating?’
Thankfully, Tash steps in. ‘I wouldn’t say micro-cheating, as such. Connie barely has a grasp of the basics when it comes to dating.’
‘True,’ agrees Liberty. ‘It’s more that she’s cushioning him. Keeping him dangling, as in, he’s her plan B.’
‘You’re right,’ Tash says proudly, as though I’m not standing right in bloody front of them having a mild heart attack. She makes sure Sister Kevin, her newest love, who was wearing a nun’s wimple when she recently met in Benidorm, is listening to how wise and insightful she can be when it comes to the thorny intricacies of love languages and dating terminology.
I can’t quite believe what I’m hearing. Just as I’m about to protest, the whole group is suddenly interested in what golden nuggets Liberty’s mood management degree can offer us.
‘Connie. What exactly happened last night at Voices?’ Liberty asks, turning to me.
I gulp as Ged, Liam, Sister Kevin and all five of the Dollz stare quizzically at me. ‘Well, like I said. Luke and I covered for you at Voices when you all pulled out at the last minute.’ I raise my eyebrows to remind them of their unprofessional behaviour and to lay the foundation that perhaps this fiasco is not entirely of my own doing. ‘We did a remarkable job considering you put my new regular slot as headline act in jeopardy. Everyone was happy. We went our separate ways. There was no micro-cheating or cushioning or whatever’s trending involved whatsoever.’
‘And nothing occurred between you and Luke?’ Liberty is talking to me but scrolling through her phone.
‘No. Not especially,’ I say. I’d rather block it all out. That kiss. The look in Luke’s eyes. The thunderous applause and wolf whistles from the crowd.
‘Nothing at all. You’re sure?’ Liberty is now passing her phone around the group. They are looking at it with great interest.
‘Wow. Old people really love to overshare on Facebook, don’t they? Who cares if their shepherd’s pie is better than last week’s?’ Ged remarks, casually returning the phone to Liberty. ‘But it’s good to know they like to catalogue every single thing that happens on a night out.’
Liberty shows me the image of Luke and me kissing on stage.
‘I can explain,’ I say to the crowd of disappointed faces.
* * *
‘You have a very simple choice to make,’ says Liam, settling into his seat beside me on board this lovely Boeing 787 Dreamliner. ‘You’ve spent a week in Benidorm, falling in love with Matteo, your love-at-first-sight, sparkles-in-your-eyes, hot, Latino music producer.’
Like I’m not aware of all that, but carry on…
‘Then, when he went off to LA for work without officially confirming whether you two wereexclusiveor not,’ joins in Ged as he plonks himself down next to Liam, ‘you’ve spent the next week having your head turned by your uber-posh Norwegian singing partner, Luke.’
‘Correct,’ confirms Liam. ‘And just because Luke’s an extremely gorgeous royal figure who saved your life once and is now proposing a multimillion-dollar-Cinderella-style marriage?—’
