The fan gasps. ‘It’s not for sale!’
‘Come on,’ I reason, ‘I’m a friend of Dylan’s, I can get you something even cooler.’
‘Yeah, right,’ she says with a laugh. ‘If he’s your friend, why not get him to sign that dress you’re wearing?’
‘Like I’d let him anywhere my Alexander McQueen with his marker pen,’ I say, mainly to myself, although now I have her attention.
‘That is a nice dress,’ she says, smiling widely.
‘Thank you, it’s…’ I trail off because I know what she’s thinking. ‘No way! Never going to happen! For starters, I am wearing it, I can’t take it off. Also, do you know how much it cost?’
‘I have a rough idea,’ she says, raising her eyebrows. ‘I could never afford a dress like that! And anyway, I’m wearing this T-shirt. You can’t leave me topless.’
I massage my temples as I think for a moment. She’s right, I can’t leave her without clothes, but I can’t give her this dress. I love this dress. And if I’m being honest, even I couldn’t afford this dress – I had to skip meals just to be able to afford (and fit into) this dress. Well, when you’re rubbing shoulders with the rich and famous, you’ve got to try and keep up. The thing is, if I don’t find Dylan soon he’ll be in so much trouble. I suppose Dylan could buy me a new dress… but I’d still be bottomless in the meantime.
‘I don’t have any other clothes with me,’ I tell her honestly.
‘That’s OK, you can have my shorts too.’
Wow, isn’t she generous?
‘Fine.’ Well, what else can I do? I need that phone, so it’s bye-bye favourite dress.
The fan starts unbuttoning her shorts.
‘Erm, can we do this in the toilets or something?’ I ask her, just in time to stop her taking them off in front of all these people.
She nods, and I gesture for a security guard to let her past the barrier.
In the hotel ladies’ room we make the swap. My beautiful pink dress in exchange for her super-short denim jeans and her signed T-shirt.
‘A pleasure doing business with you,’ the girl says as she leaves the bathroom.
The pleasure is all hers. I’m lucky we are almost the same size, but this look is a little bit boyish for my girly-girl taste. Dylan will not only be replacing my dress, he’ll be buying me a whole new wardrobe to make up for this. My only problem now is that when I hand the T-shirt over to the girl in room 192, I’m going to be wandering around in my bra. Hopefully, if I call Mikey he’ll bring me a spare T-shirt or a hoodie.
I knock on the door of room 192 – again – and the underwear-clad girl answers – again.
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