‘In that case, I propose we go over the road and get some chips – I’m starving,’ I said, resting my head against Alex’s chest and trying not to purr as he ran his hand through my hair. ‘I just talked to my mum and dad. Booze won’t be enough – it’s time to bring out the big guns.’
‘Ooh, I want a chilli dog.’ Jenny kicked me from across the bed. ‘Are they good? Are they coming over?’
‘Dear God no.’ Perish the thought. ‘My dad is in hospital because they went to a party and he got stoned and had a “funny turn”, and my mum is my mum. Apparently weed has absolutely no effect on her whatsoever.’
‘Your parents are awesome,’ Vanessa said to the ceiling.
‘My parents are dickheads,’ I replied.
‘Is he going to be OK?’ Alex asked.
‘He is.’ I was suddenly sober and shattered. There was only one cure.
‘Let’s get you something greasy,’ he said, sliding off the bed and holding out a hand.
‘I love you.’ I let him pull me off the bed. I wanted chips. I wanted chips so badly.
‘Angela?’ Sigge’s tone was innocent. ‘Were your parents at a swingers’ party?’
His question was not.
I turned to Alex with pursed lips and a glare that meant business. ‘I need to be eating right now.’
‘We have to do gifts before we leave.’ Jenny bounced up off the bed, bumping Thomas onto the floor and Erin onto her face. ‘Wait right here.’
‘Presents?’ I looked at Erin and Vanessa, alarmed. ‘We’re doing presents?’
Quite aside from the fact that I hadn’t bought any presents yet, it wasn’t Christmas, and I had very strict rules about opening presents before the twenty-fifth. This was only acceptable if the gift giver was going to be either out of the country or dead by Christmas morning. Clearly Jenny didn’t fall into either of those categories. In theory.
‘You and I aren’t doing gifts,’ Erin yawned. ‘If that helps. I didn’t get you shit.’
‘Appreciated.’ I mentally took her Marc by Marc Jacobs scarf out from under the tree and put it back on the shelf. And then mentally took it off again and put it back under the tree with my name on it.
Jenny sailed back into the room carrying a small blue chequebook-shaped box wrapped in silver ribbon. Since a chequebook would be a fairly odd gift, I assumed it was something small and wonderful. Possibly shiny. I immediately forgot my rules and snatched it out of her hands. Christmas could do terrible things to a girl’s manners.
‘So, I know you’ve been super-stressed lately,’ Jenny started explaining as I tussled with the tightly tied ribbon. ‘And I was like, what would totally chill Angie out?’
Massage vouchers? A weekend away in the mountains? Lots and lots of drugs? No, that would be from my mum.
‘And I thought about the things that help me when I’m freaking out. The places that make me feel like Jenny again.’
Uh-oh. Pole-dancing lessons? Tickets to Vegas? Lots and lots of drugs?
‘And I came up with this. It’s going to be the shit, doll.’
I wasn’t sure about ‘the shit’, but the fevered look in Jenny’s eyes scared me. Everyone was silent while they watched me give up and rip the ribbon from the box with my teeth, because I’m so classy, and tear into the box.
Meep.
Inside the box was a copy of Gambling for Dummies and three plane tickets.
‘Vegas, baby!’ Jenny bounced up and down on the bed. ‘Me, you and Erin. Girls’ weekend away, just a total, awesome blow-out. We’re going to go crazy. No over-thinking, no panicking, no worrying. Just fun. It’s exactly what you need.’
‘It is?’
It was?
‘Totally,’ she said, landing on her arse right next to Vanessa’s face. ‘We’ll get drunk, we’ll dance, hang out by the pool, go to the spa. It’ll be awesome. No one needs to get on the pole like you do, honey.’
‘Yeah, Ange,’ Alex contributed. ‘You do need to get on the pole.’
I could have punched him, but I was all Rocky’d out for one week. Instead, I took a spectator’s stance and watched as Vanessa pushed Jenny off the bed and onto the floor, right on her backside. She did have it coming.
‘And when Jenny’s finished trying to kill us all, I have a client opening a store in the Crystals, so there is going to be some intense window shopping going on,’ Erin said. ‘And don’t worry, I won’t let her make you pole dance.’
After a moment of fear had passed, I started to smile. I was more concerned that it wouldn’t be a case of ‘making me’ so much as ‘stopping me’. I’d always wanted to go to Vegas, always. It just sounded so fabulous: all girls in feathered headdresses serving elaborate cocktails to shady blackjack players while Frank Sinatra belted out ‘Strangers in the Night’ on stage. Somewhere, I was semi-aware that these days, Vegas was more Kim Kardashian knocking back jello shots while P. Diddy set his iPod to shuffle in the DJ booth, but still. Surely there was still a good old glamorous time to be had somewhere on the Strip?
‘So.’ I held up the tickets. ‘When do we leave?’
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