‘I get it,’ I say softly. I stretch up onto my tiptoes to whisper in his ear. ‘I think she’s making stuff up to keep us apart.’
He nods agreement before I continue.
‘Just play along with it while I get this lot sorted. I’m too tired to do much anyway. Why don’t we meet in a couple of hours at the restaurant? I’ll put it in the group chat. Make sure you lose her by then.’
I give him a kiss and receive an extra-hard appreciative hug in return. Matteo stares at me before breaking into a smile that lights up his entire face. It earns him another kiss. A slow, sensual one that I’m hoping will send a sharp message to Birdie.
When we break apart, Matteo cups my cheek. He blinks slowly, his mouth curving upwards. ‘See you later, Big Guy.’ He receives a disbelieving shake of the head from me.
While the two of them walk away in the opposite direction, I try to follow the group, but they have disappeared. This place is way bigger and busier than I ever imagined, but I suppose everything in America is. It’s not long before I spot the entrance to The Poker Room and, opposite that, huge arched pillars into the casino area. I stand motionless as a stream of people brush past me. I take in the giant crystal chandeliers, the elaborately gold-painted ceilings with multiple frescos styled on the Sistine Chapel, which are in stark contrast to the blinking and beeping of the one-armed bandits and slot machines.
‘Hey,’ says an extremely handsome man. ‘You lost?’
My jaw drops.
He holds up his hands before I can get my words out. ‘No. I’m not him.’
I don’t believe him.
‘Honestly. If I were Harry Styles, wouldn’t I have a British accent? I don’t know if you can tell but I’m clearly Canadian.’
I swallow. I almost made a huge fool of myself. I was about to start begging him to do a meet ’n’ greet with Ged and Liam. What a shame it’s not him.
‘I do a mean tribute act though if you’d like to come see me sometime?’ He hands me a leaflet. ‘The name’s Barry.’
‘Oh, thanks,’ I say, patting my wig. ‘We just might do that.’ If the hunt for real celebrities comes to nothing then it will be good to have Barry Styles as a backup plan.
The loud bleeping pings and tinny music fill my ears. But it is the giant screens running all around the area showing sports, adverts for shows and sugar and fat-based products that draw my eye. It seems as though everything you need is here, available in this vast hotel. Bars and restaurants dot the casino area, breaking up the machines. Gamble. Eat. Drink. Repeat. Then suddenly there’s a huge image of the Dollz and me up on the screen with an invitation to come and see us at The Cocktail Hour Lounge the following evening for an exclusive and immersive experience in global high-quality entertainment. I look from the screen down to my outfit. The two versions of me couldn’t be further apart.
A loud squeal alerts me to the fact that the Dollz are watching the same screen. I crane my neck above the crowd and spot Big Sue fist-bumping the air. I race over.
‘Good, you’re here. We’ve got a situation,’ says Big Sue, putting a finger to a non-existent earpiece.
Oh, God. What now?
‘But I’ve only been gone less than a minute,’ I whine. I really am so tired. I can’t be doing with this level of nonsense.
‘It’s Kev!’ shrieks Tash dramatically. ‘He’s…’ She throws the back of her hand to her forehead. ‘Gone off.’
‘Gone off where?’
‘Gone. Gone as in completely gone. He’s not here. He’s gone away.’
‘They decided to split up,’ says Liberty.
They’ve split up? Already?Tashisuber high-maintenance, I suppose.
‘I’m sorry,’ I say gently. ‘Perhaps it was for the best.’ The best for him. Before she traps him into fathering children with ridiculous names.
‘She means she’s lost him in the casino,’ says Liberty, laughing. ‘You lot are a disgrace. Even by my low standards.’
‘They’re just tired,’ says Big Mand, defending Big Sue.
‘Don’t underestimate fatigue,’ Big Sue says, momentarily thrown as exhaustion sweeps over her. ‘It’s a form of torture in some countries.’ She lets out a huge yawn, blinking rapidly. ‘Wait. Where are we?’ She looks at the Italian-style shop facades and stone bridges. ‘What is this place? How did I get here?’ She grabs Big Mand’s arm, panic in her voice.
‘Are we outside? The sky? The river?’ Cherry asks, confused at the optical illusion surrounding us. She points at the ceiling, which is painted and lit up just like a summer’s day. We marvel at the gondolas floating past with Italian-looking gondoliers in uniforms of red trousers, blue and white striped tops, straw boater hats and jaunty red scarves. At least it is distracting them from me and my horrendous green face situation.
‘We’re in Italy,’ says Big Mand, yawning as she points to the canal. ‘Come on, let’s go. No, wait. What are we doing again? I’ve completely forgotten.’
