‘Why is Tash twitching?’ barks Big Mand, making it sound like all one word.
‘Never mind her, what about Hank Junior?’ Liberty asks.
‘Never mind Hank Junior, what about our Birthday Bash performance?’ I ask. ‘We should really go and get ready for it.’
Blank expressions.
‘It’s on the schedule,’ I remind them, waving my phone. ‘The gig we are doing at the pool party, remember? The reason we are sitting here tactically meeting about it?’
All of a sudden, the floor, the neon lights flashing above the bar, acrylic nails and the diamanté stuck to them become objects of extreme interest.
‘The one we are contractually obliged to do as a favour for Nancy.’
Blank stares. Nobody can be bothered.
‘It should be fun,’ I say, trying to sound convincing. ‘And it’ll be much safer if we stick together and…’
‘And hide in plain sight,’ Big Mand finishes. ‘Good thinking, Big Guy.’
‘If it’s a pool party, should we go in swimming costumes?’ asks Big Sue.
‘Yes. Makes sense,’ agrees Cherry.
‘And did we bring swimming costumes?’ asks Big Sue.
‘No,’ says Cherry.
My poor credit card. It will have organised its own funeral, obituary and wake by now.
I cross my fingers, praying no one can be bothered to go and buy any. ‘What will we wear instead?’ asks Big Sue. Her extra-long legs must be hollow because she seems least affected by the caffeine.
‘I will make bikinis out of these,’ Cherry says, pointing to the round cardboard beer mats. She holds two up to her breasts with an air of incredulity, as though wondering why she has never before thought to do this.
I flick through the schedule on my phone and pretend she did not just say that. ‘There is a stage poolside, on the fourth floor, and we’re on at 4p.m. We need to be suited and booted. It’s glorious sunshine so whatever we wear needs to be cool.’
‘We’ll do the pink Stetsons with our pink sequined bra tops. Grab whatever short skirt you have or hot pants or sarong in a bright colour and we’ll do the Barbie white sandals. We’ll keep the wigs on. End of.’ Tash purses her lips. ‘Agreed?’
We all nod obediently.
‘And if he’s not happy, one of us can do him a lap dance afterwards,’ she says.
Absolutely not happening.
‘As for Hank Junior,’ says Big Sue. ‘We’ll just have to wait until after the show to do a recon. Connie, you ring Luke as soon as he lands, okay? Make sure he’s alive.’
‘And if he isn’t?’
Gah!I immediately regret asking this. After some eye contact, we leave the question hanging in the air. Where it can stay. Forever.
We agree to meet in my room once we are all ready, to have a quick run-through before the pool party begins.
My phone pings. It is from Nancy. She has heard that we are too busy messing about, gambling, sightseeing, getting married, etc, and that isnotwhat she is paying us to do. I read the rest of the text aloud. ‘Eddie from Talent Star is very well connected, do not cross him under any circumstances.’
‘Right, Libs. Looks like we’ll be needing to do our Hot Garbage routine on him,’ Tash says forcefully. ‘You take the lead. Let’s give this old fucker a flaming heart attack.’
26
I race back to my room, turning the last corner to find Matteo is at the door. His face lights up as I walk casually towards him down the long, never-ending corridor.
