‘Ah, shit,’ Liberty groans. ‘She doesn’t need my card to buy a drink, does she?’
I shake my head sympathetically.
Liberty hurriedly gathers up her chips and lifts the hem of her dress up like a tiny hammock. ‘Quick, help me with this lot. Let’s cash it in and hunt down Cherry before she spends every penny I have.’ When we’ve scooped every last plastic chip into her dress, she bunches the material up at her pelvis like a lumpy colostomy bag.
‘Big Mand can help us. She’s the one in charge,’ I say, whipping out my phone. ‘Don’t worry, Big Mand will have her tracked down in no time.’ She’s like a sniffer dog. I jab at my phone. Thank God for no-nonsense, shift-working, dependable midwives.
Liberty rolls her eyes.
‘What?’ I say, following her finger to a nearby sofa. It’s Big Mand. She’s collapsed, spread-eagled, with her nose in the air. She’s flat out, snoring very loudly. She has the whole sofa and general area to herself. I watch her chest rise and fall with a steady rhythm. Legs akimbo. Barbie knee-length socks and sky-high sandals propped up on two coffee tables in front of her. Blonde ponytail wig askew. Pink Barbie dress twisted round her body. Mouth gaping open.
‘We’ll come back for her,’ says Liberty briskly. ‘She’s clearly not going anywhere. Let’s bank this lot, go find that blinking Cherry, and get my card off her.’
‘We can’t leave her like that,’ I say. ‘Let’s just wake her up and bring her with us.’
Liberty tuts. ‘Okay. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.’
* * *
Five minutes later, I wish I’d listened. Big Mand is in a very deep sleep. I’m tugging at her arm while Liberty is slapping her face with increasing ferocity.
‘It’s no use,’ I say, stepping back. ‘We’ll have to leave her here. She’ll just have to sleep the jet lag off.’
At the mention of jet lag and sleep, Big Mand’s eyes snap open. ‘Who? Who is sleeping? How dare they!’ she booms, leaping up. She has woken up swinging. She seems to have lost all sense of who and where she is. Her head swivels around as she pummels her fist into her palm ready for action. ‘Where? Who? I’ll take the lottuv-yuz.’
Liberty slaps her once more.
With glazed eyes, Big Mand responds by trying to karate kick Liberty in the throat.
It’s like watching a scene from my worst nightmare slowly unfold. Big Mand has snapped. Thankfully, Liberty jumps out of the way, and Big Mand wallops her foot off a vintage slot machine instead. The machine roars to life and immediately sheds hundreds of coins in a blaring fanfare of music. The people around cheer and Big Mand is momentarily distracted as she picks up all of the coins.
As soon as she is finished, we set off in search of Cherry. Her vibrant crimson locks should be easy to spot but, amid the blaze of colour, it’s nigh-on impossible. The good folk of Las Vegas have turned out in their gaudiest gambling clothes. The loud blinking and blooping and tringing assaults my ears as we weave in and out of tables, carousels of machines, lines of people yanking down the metal arms of the one-armed bandits, lost in concentration. Suddenly, we spot a flash of bright red.
‘Quick,’ yells Liberty. ‘Over there!’
We bolt over to see Cherry engaged in what can only be described as a weird tug of war over a seat at a craps table. We hurry over to see what she is outraged about.
‘This jerk won’t let me sit down, even though I’m pregnant!’ she yells when she spots us approaching.
He’s very handsome as far as jerks go.
‘To be fair,’ he says to us, ‘this is the first I’m hearing of it.’ He sounds very reasonable. We look at Cherry. She looks guilty as hell. ‘If you want the seat, take the seat,’ he says, amused. ‘There’s plenty of them.’
She eyes him suspiciously. ‘Which seat doyouwant?’
He starts to chuckle. ‘Not sure.’
‘What’s going on?’ Liberty asks. I see him eyeing her appreciatively up and down, a smile spreading across her face.
‘Well, ma’am,’ he drawls in a smooth American accent. ‘Your friend here seems to be under the impression that whichever seat I choose is the lucky seat.’
We look to Cherry, who nods in agreement, lips pursed. ‘It’s true. Every time he wins, I lose. And it’s all because of the seats.’
It makes no sense at all. Cherry is wired and wild-looking.
Liberty’s face drains of colour. ‘How much have you lost?’
Cherry waves the card around. ‘Well, whatever was on there.’
