Page 54 of It's All Sun and Games

‘They thought you were trying to buy drugs,’ Andrea says bluntly, getting right to the point.

‘Oh, fuck, it’s worse than I was imagining,’ I blurt out. ‘What happened?’

‘It’s just a silly misunderstanding,’ Andrea insists again. ‘The man you stopped, he didn’t work here, and when you asked him for coca in a quiet, weird voice, he thought you were trying to buy drugs.’

‘Shit,’ I reply, feeling utterly embarrassed. ‘Well, that’s mortifying. What’s the Italian for “can the ground open up and swallow me into the centre of the earth”?’

‘Do you really want to know?’ Andrea asks cheekily.

‘No,’ I say quickly. ‘I’ll never speak Italian again.’

‘Come on then, party girl, I’ll take you for a drink,’ Andrea teases me. ‘Or you might get yourself in trouble.’

‘Okay,’ I say with a sigh, feeling the heat rush to my cheeks again. God, I can’t even imagine how red my face must be right now. ‘Oh, were you going to say something before? Before I nearly got banged up abroad.’

I’m not sure if Andrea will get that reference, but he seems to know what I mean anyway.

‘It’s nothing,’ he says reassuringly. ‘Something for later. Let’s get you a drink – or something stronger?’

‘Shut up,’ I reply, giving him a playful shrug.

Instead of letting go of him, I link my arm with his.

It’s probably best I keep my mouth shut from now on, letting Andrea be the spokesperson in this fake relationship.

Who knows what sort of trouble my mouth might get me into next?

22

It’s the persistent sound of a knock on my apartment door that wakes me up.

Shit. What time is it? Have I overslept? I was messaging with Priya until late, filling her in on how things were going, but not actually telling her any of the details because – come on – look at the mess I’ve made for myself. She’s not feeling great, and she’s probably worrying about me. The last thing she needs is to hear all about the chaos I’m bringing to the trip.

I must look rough, and half asleep, but it sounds important so I pull on a robe and go to see who it is.

Rubbing the sleep from my eyes, as though that’s going to make a massive improvement, I open the door.

I relax as soon as I see that it’s Andrea, armed with what looks like bags of shopping.

‘Oh, good morning,’ I say.

‘Buongiorno, bella, come è stata la tua nottata?’ he replies.

‘Not a clue,’ I say with a laugh.

‘Something for another day,’ he replies. ‘But, for now, I thought you might like breakfast.’

‘Always,’ I say, feeling the smile spread across my face as I step aside to let him in.

‘Take a seat at the table,’ Andrea instructs with a smile. ‘I’ll prepare the food.’

I watch him as he buzzes around the kitchen, and I’m sure that he can’t possibly know where everything is, but he makes it look like he’s lived here all his life.

‘So, how is the pitch coming along?’ he asks, glancing over his shoulder as he puts the coffee on.

‘Good, I think,’ I reply.

‘I think what you’re doing is perfect,’ he reassures me. ‘What Beppe really cares about is traditional Italian family values. If you do something that shows that, he will definitely pick your idea.’

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