‘But you’re my lucky charm!’ bellows Cherry, like an angry toddler. ‘You have to stay with me.’
‘One more go then I’m leaving.’ I check my phone, but Matteo hasn’t messaged. While Cherry switches seats, I text him to say that I’m sorry I was snippy earlier. He texts back immediately to say he’s sorry too. He says he’ll come and find me and asks where I am.
‘YAY!’ yells Cherry as the machine makes a massive tringing sound. A solitary ticket emerges while everyone around us starts cheering and clapping. ‘Okay, I’m ready to cash in and go to bed now.’
I text Matteo to say we’re in a queue at the Pallazo cashier’s cage, cashing in Cherry’s winnings, and I’ll meet him back in the room.
It’s two minutes to midnight as we hurry over the bridge, past The Palazzo waterfall atrium and the twelve-foot iconic art sculpture. When I see the ruby-red letters spelling out LOVE, my heart sinks. I really hope that by not turning up, Luke will finally get the message.
There are hundreds of people posing in front of the letters, taking selfies and generally milling about as though it’s mid-afternoon and not midnight. The concept of time in this hotel simply does not exist. I can’t see Luke anywhere.
‘Perhaps he’s changed his mind,’ says Cherry, scanning the crowd.
‘I hope so.’ Then I hear it. My soul droops as the familiar notes of ‘Mi Amore Mi Amore’ tinkle out across the atrium. Luke emerges from behind the waterfall with a microphone in his hand and slowly walks towards a string quartet.
Fuck no.
‘Quick,’ I say, yanking at Cherry’s arm as I battle with the urge to go and slap his face. ‘Before he sees us.’ He’s standing with his legs three feet apart and grabbing air. Two of his mannerisms that I cannot blinking stand, and he has encouraged a huge crowd to gather. They probably think this is bona fide entertainment. Luke starts beating his heart dramatically before slinging his arm around the shoulder of an extremely embarrassed-looking guy.
‘I can see why you thought he was attractive in a posh-boy sort of way,’ Cherry says as I freeze on the spot. Matteo is standing right in front of us, frowning.
I need a second to think. This is dreadful. What a dreadful moment to be caught up in.
His head is tilted to one side as though assessing me. His gaze wanders past me, to the crowd and Luke. He’s still singing by the quartet with his legs apart.
‘It’s not what you think,’ I say.
Matteo’s mouth curves slightly. ‘It never is.’
12
I wake up exhausted and alone the following morning. Matteo and I engaged in a mammoth love-making session last night, well into the early hours. I think I just needed him to know that he’s the one. The one for me. My whole body aches in the most delicious way. I was barely aware of him leaving this morning. Birdie has arranged a virtual breakfast briefing with their secret artist who is on a different time zone, to discuss the ‘project’, and Matteo will meet me later at the limo to go to the rollerblading disco.
I scan the room. Every surface is covered with flowers. Housekeeping have put them all in vases for us. Ged is right. Matteo has been more than understanding of the Luke situation. I ring reception and croakily explain the bouquets have been put in the wrong room, and they are only too happy to help move them back to Cherry and Liberty’s. At least that might help.
After a quick shower, I squeeze into my Disco Barbie roller-skating costume. It’s an amazing bright pink glitter hot pants onesie with neon-yellow leg warmers and wristbands. When there is a knock on the door, I insist on helping the concierge carry some of the vases. We walk down the endless corridors towards Liberty’s room and hammer on the door. There’s no answer. The concierge gives me an apologetic shrug as though it’s his fault they aren’t in. He knocks harder. It’s way too early for them to be out already.
‘Sorry, ma’am. It looks like they’re not in.’
‘Fine. We’ll just go in and drop these off.’
He hesitates, until I explain that we are the Cocktail Hour entertainment, and these flowers are from Hank Junior, one of our admirers. The concierge gives me a bizarre nod of understanding and opens the door immediately. He breezes in and arranges them beautifully all over the suite. He even radios housekeeping to prioritise the room tidy. Tash was right about Cherry’s knickers. There are what look like discarded croissants lying all over the room. Costumes, tights, bras, Barbie dresses cover every conceivable surface. What a mess! But there’s no sign of either of them. The bed hasn’t been slept in.
A prickle of concern crawls up my spine. I say goodbye to the concierge and knock on Tash and Sister Kevin’s door. No answer. I try Big Mand and Big Sue’s door. The same. No answer. I can only assume they have gone down for an early breakfast before the roller disco. I hurry back to my room to finish getting changed. When I race down to the meeting point, I’m absolutely flabbergasted to see the whole gang sitting at the designated breakfast bar tucking into bulging breakfast burritos and deluxe milkshakes loaded with whipped cream, wedges of cake and chocolate bars poking out of the top. Every single one of them is dressed in their Roller Ken and Roller Barbie outfits: eye-watering splashes of neon metallic hot pants, glitter crop tops, leg warmers, headbands, wristbands, wigs and huge knee pads. They look unbelievably cool. We are attracting much attention from the public. I quickly take lots of photos.
‘Wow. I can’t believe you all got up so early,’ I say. ‘I’m impressed.’
‘We didn’t,’ says Cherry with a mouthful of burrito.
‘We haven’t been to bed yet,’ says Tash, giggling. ‘We’re giving it a miss. Because of the jet lag.’
Makes no sense.
‘And because we were all on such a winning streak, we couldn’t leave,’ says Big Sue. ‘Mandeep won enough to pay off her entire mortgage.’
Wow.
‘Yeah, but then I lost it all again,’ she is quick to tell me. ‘Easy come, easy go, as they say.’
