The Perfect Girlfriend(50)
A doorman opens the door for us and bids us a ‘great evening’.
‘We will,’ I respond, as we walk downstairs towards a waiting black limo.
‘What’s this?’ Nate turns to look at me.
‘It didn’t cost much more than a taxi, so I thought we might as well arrive at the Venetian in style. They had a deal on. If we like, the driver can take us sightseeing afterwards. I don’t know about you, but I quite fancy seeing more of Vegas.’
‘Hi, my name is Jackson,’ the uniformed chauffeur greets us as he opens the door.
‘Thank you,’ I say, stepping in first.
As requested, there is a bottle of champagne and two glasses ready for us on the side. I pour, handing one to Nate, then pouring one for myself.
‘I don’t believe that the champagne was included too,’ he says, taking a sip.
I laugh. ‘Of course not. But I couldn’t resist when they suggested it as an optional extra. You’ll have to drink it quickly, though, the Venetian isn’t too far away. Cheers!’
I lean back into the seat and Nate does the same, as Jackson turns round and suggests we ‘buckle up’.
As we pull away from the bog-standard crew hotel, into the noise and sights of the approaching evening, I accidentally slide towards Nate. I move away. A sliver of barely containable excitement weaves its way inside my chest as we drive towards our destination: the one I carefully selected. It is listed among one of the top ten most romantic hotels in Vegas.
Nate is in for the night of his life.
17
After strolling through the Piazza San Marco arm in arm, Nate and I are seated opposite each other in a restaurant and are now eating marinated prawns at the edge of a canal. A gondola glides past. I pick up my glass of white wine and take a sip. Above the faint smell of chlorine, I catch a whiff of garlic as a waiter delivers the entrée to the table behind us. I am tentatively happy. I feel like I’m moments away from finally living the life I deserve.
The conversation between us flows naturally. He, too, is happy. He admitted as much when he confessed a few moments ago that he was glad I’d talked him into this outing.
Our starters are cleared and the ice inside the bucket crunches as our waiter removes the bottle to top up our wine glasses.
‘I dread to think what the bill will be like,’ says Nate.
‘Don’t. The whole evening is on me. As a thank you.’
‘A thank you?’
‘Yes. You were very decent when we split up, paying the rent and making sure I’d be all right. I’m sorry again that I took it so badly. I was in a confused place back then. Now that my life is on track, I can look back and see how I could have handled things differently.’
‘Well. Likewise. Water under the bridge.’
We both laugh, given our surroundings.
‘What did you think of the club last night?’
‘Incredible,’ he says. ‘Whenever I’ve come to Vegas before, I’ve tended to explore in the day. Tours of the Grand Canyon, that type of thing. I’ve been to a few well-known restaurants and local sights, but this trip has actually been fun.’
We both go quiet.
I think about how we are here, for now, cut off from the world until reality will try to wrench us apart again. Which is why tonight is so important. How the night plays out will have a big impact on my future.
No, our future.
‘I don’t know how we’ll beat last night, I felt on such a high. I did look at some tickets for shows this evening, but anything that sounded good was sold out or extortionate,’ I say.
‘It’s nice enough here. Aren’t they supposed to have street entertainers? And I saw a documentary once about Michael Jackson. He came shopping here and the shops were like Aladdin’s cave.’
I burst out laughing. ‘Shopping? You?’
He laughs too. ‘Yeah. I guess not.’
‘I think we should go up to one of the bars after this and look out at a proper view of Venice as a taster. I’d love to visit the real one.’
I reach over and top up our wine glasses.
A lot for Nate, a little for me.
I distract him by pointing out a precarious-looking gondolier who looks a little unstable as he approaches a white bridge, whilst above us the skylights darken, hinting at the approaching night outside.
In the bar, I insist on Kir Royales with extra cassis, even though Nate mutters half-heartedly about ‘operating tomorrow’. We are seated in the centre of the room, so we don’t have much of a view, but the room itself is worth taking in with its high ceilings and opulent decor in shades of black, gold and silver. Behind the main bar, with its backdrop of dark, mirrored shelves supporting hundreds of wine glasses, flutes and brightly coloured bottles, sleek bar staff mix drinks, expertly negotiating the space behind the counter.
‘We’ll just have the one cocktail,’ I say with a reassuring smile. ‘When in Rome. Or Venice or Vegas. And we’re not even working until late, so let’s just relax.’
When Nate stands up to seek out the Gents, I take a quick look around. The bar is fairly dark and no one is taking any notice of me. I reach down for my bag, take out a pill, hold my glass beneath the table and drop it into my glass. Using a cocktail stirrer I mix it. I reach over for Nate’s Kir Royale and swap our drinks around. As he returns, approaching our table, I take a deep breath.