Liberty lets out a whimper.
Cherry flings her arm in the man’s direction. ‘It’s his fault. Blame him.’
He holds his hands up. ‘No, ma’am. I think you’re?—’
He doesn’t get to finish because Big Mand decides to intervene by grabbing the back of the chair he has just sat on.
To avoid contact, he leaps from his chair into the path of a passing waiter carrying a tray laden with drinks. The waiter, knocked off balance, fails to regain control.
Liberty does her best to jump out of the way, but the drinks, like falling dominoes, topple over to expertly drench both him and Liberty, before crashing loudly onto the carpet.
The chips Liberty was carrying are flung high into the air, showering us as they fall back down.
Amid the chaos, the teller announces that she’s shutting the table and radios for housekeeping, while Liberty and the man stand staring at one another with beer and cocktails dripping down their fronts. Liberty, normally cool as a cucumber, looks shyly at him.
His whole face lights up.
Security is quick to arrive on the scene, probably alerted by Big Mand and her kung-fu attempt. They take one look at Big Mand’s crazed expression and radio for backup. The waiter disappears, leaving the security guys to face us. ‘What happened?’
‘Me,’ barks Big Mand. ‘I happened.’
I’m sure one of them has a hand on a Taser gun of some sort at his waist.
Oh, God.
‘Come with us, ma’am.’ They step towards her. I gasp as Big Mand stretches out her palms towards them in a defensive manner. She has turned into Kung Fu Panda.
‘Wait,’ I cry out. ‘We’re the Cocktail Hour entertainment. We’re here from England. We just arrived. We’re all jet-lagged. We were booked by Eddie from Talent Star,’ I rattle out quickly before turning to the dripping-wet guy. ‘I’m so sorry about the accident. We’ll pay for your clothes to be, erm, dry-cleaned and we’ll pay for those free drinks we ruined.’
My credit card is literally tearing itself up in my bag. Snapping itself in two in protest.
Dripping-Wet Guy smiles good-naturedly. ‘No need to pay, ma’am. But thanks.’
Liberty is staring at him open-mouthed as though she’s been hit by a bolt of lightning. He’s quite attractive in an unconventional way, but it’s his voice that lures us in. His accent is mesmerising. It’s deep and rich and smooth like honey. Like dark, expensive manuka honey, not the Aldi honey-flavoured honey. He gives her a long, admiring look before he slowly strokes his stubbled chin.
‘Okay, fellas. I think we’re good,’ he says to the security guys. ‘I’ll handle it from here.’
They instantly agree to do what he says. ‘Yes, sir. Sorry about the…’ One of them waves a hand at me and Big Mand.
‘No problem, guys,’ Dripping-Wet Guy says confidently. ‘I’ll sort this out. If you could get these chips cashed in, I’d appreciate it.’ He turns to Liberty. ‘You’re staying here, I presume?’
She nods slowly.
‘Credit her room. Thanks, guys.’
The security guys radio for help, which arrives instantly, and a waiter scampers around retrieving Liberty’s chips that are scattered all over the floor. He checks her room key and hands it back.
Liberty is still staring at her handsome stranger.
‘So, you’re the Cocktail Hour entertainment, are you?’
We nod mutely. He’s very sure of himself.
‘Well. You’ve certainly been entertaining so far.’
Liberty blushes to her roots.
‘Come with me,’ he says in such a commanding voice that we find ourselves instantly trailing through the crowd behind him like little ducklings. I notice that Cherry has absconded once again with the card.
