‘I’d like a room for tonight please?’
He checked the screen. ‘I’m afraid we’re full…’
She was a split second away from going full-scale diva-strop, when he quickly remedied the situation.
‘… But we’ve just had a phone call from a guest to say they’ve been called away and asking us to check her out, so if you don’t mind waiting…’ he checked his watch, ‘maybe half an hour, we’ll get the room turned around and ready for you. Perhaps you could have a drink in the bar?’
She’d heard worse ideas. Picking up her phone, her laptop case and her bag, she crossed the lobby, aware as always that she was gathering admiring glances from at least half of the guests enjoying a late night chat or drink. Not an attractive one among them.
In the bar, she ordered a glass of champagne, then parked herself at a corner table and opened her laptop. She was immediately assaulted by a succession of high-pitched pings, and watched, uncomprehending, as the notifications flashed up on her Facebook and Twitter accounts.
What the hell was going on?
She ran her eye down the list.
‘Lila, is that you in this clip?’
‘Damn, she whipped his ass.’
‘That has to be @LoveLila – would recognise those tits anywhere.’
‘OMG, his face though!!!!!’
What the…? She clicked through to the post they were referring to and her heart felt like it had actually stopped.
The setting, even on the still frame at the beginning of the video, was instantly recognisable. Grilled.
There was Cammy. Her mum. Her dad. Her.
With a shaking finger, she pressed play.
Whoever had taken the footage had obviously been nearby, perhaps at the next table, and had been mighty swift whenCammy got down on one knee, because there he was, holding that pathetic ring up, all bloody misty eyes and hopeful.
Her toes curled so tight her Louboutins began to pinch.
‘Lila, I love you – and I want to love you every day of our lives…’ Oh, crap, there was sound too. This was a nightmare. A nightmare. The most humiliating moment of her life and it was caught on film.
She watched as the Lila on the video looked at the ring, at him, back at the ring, then him, clearly in shock.
‘Lila, will you marry me?’ he said.
The nausea threatened to rise once again. The horror. The sheer mortification. How could she not have known he was planning that?
‘No… I can’t… I…’ Lila-on-video didn’t finish the sentence. Instead, she grabbed her bag, jumped to her feet and rushed to the door.
This was awful. For years her life had been played out on social media and she’d relished every like, share, and comment, but not this. This was her worst moment, out there for the whole world to see. She wanted to die. She actually wanted to die. Until she played it again and realised that, embarrassment aside, she looked pretty hot. Scrap that, she looked sensational. That dress was definitely the right choice, and when she’d ran out of the restaurant, the back view… well, those endless squats at the gym had definitely paid off.
It might be a moment of mortification but at least she looked incredible. If she didn’t get a free Cavalli dress out of this she’d be furious.
So anyway, silver lining, she was gorgeous.
The figure below the video drew her attention then, and she realised that there was another silver lining.
One hundred and six thousand views and increasing by the second. Holy shit. One hundred and six thousand people had watched her video. One hundred and six thousand! Now, one hundred and seven thousand. And climbing rapidly.
‘Elle est magnifique.’
‘Man, I so would.’
