Page 67 of Another Lucky Number

‘And… she’s back.’ I laugh. ‘Shall we let the guys come back now?’

‘I already messaged James while you were talking,’ she says. ‘They’re on their way.’

Chapter Twenty-Seven

After dinner, we head to the cocktail bar for our evening of ‘company research’. According to Amber, there’s a Caribbean steel drum band playing there this evening, which sounds divine. James and his friends, not yet put off by our dysfunctional friendship group, decide that they’ll join us for this.

While wandering along the path towards the main resort building, James slips his hand into mine, sending a lovely, tingly sensation through my arm. I look up at him and he gives me a little wink: one that seems to say ‘how amazing is this, you and me here together’. Suddenly, it’s as if the stars are shining brighter and the air is fresher and more wonderful. It’s such a beautiful intimate moment that I almost don’t want it to end.

We reach the cocktail bar with its lively evening buzz and I have no choice but to shift my attention to the night ahead, which isn’t exactly a chore. ‘Company research’ is my favourite part of my interview preparation schedule – other than when it involves standing behind the reception desk looking like a deflated beach ball.Ugh.

We grab a free table overlooking the pool, and James and Rob go hunting for extra chairs. Amber manages the drinks order, which has somehow expanded by six tequila shots, a salt shaker and a pile of lemon wedges by the time it arrives at our table.

‘This is your initiation, lads,’ Amber declares, as James, Tyler and Rob groan loudly, but are too polite to decline. ‘Emma, Cat…’ She then looks at us expectantly.

‘Did you not say you wanted me in good form tomorrow morning?’ I say.

‘One won’t do you any harm. You can go onto water after.’

‘I’d rather just sip some wine and not have to switch to water so early.’

‘Fine. Emma gets a pass. The rest of you, get it down you.’

Seeing me let off the hook, Cat tries her own escape strategy. ‘Amber, I need to be in good form tomorrow too for helping Emma—’

‘Not a chance, Cat. Emma’s got a proper excuse. We’re just the support team. Ever been to work with a hangover?’

‘Well, yes, but—’

‘Then you know how to do this.’

Cat looks gutted as I sit back, relieved at having dodged the alcoholic bullet. The rest of our group obediently shake salt on the backs of their hands, clink their tiny glasses together, and go through the motions, making pained noises as they do.

‘Yuck, I hate that stuff,’ Cat complains.

‘You know what they say: a tequila a day helps the holidaymakers play,’ singsongs Amber, her eyes glinting wickedly in the artificial light.

I frown. ‘That’s not a saying.’

‘It is now.’

‘So, when is this band playing, Amber?’ James asks.

‘Think it said nine on the entertainment timetable.’

‘It’s nine now.’

‘Huh. That’s weird.’ She illuminates her phone screen to double check the time, and as she does this, the sound of distant steel drums carries across the breeze.

‘I can hear them,’ I say. ‘Have we maybe got the wrong venue?’

‘No, it definitely said here,’ says Amber. ‘And listen… The sound is getting closer.’

I crane my neck in the direction of the music and gasp with delight. ‘There they are! They’re coming this way.’

We stand to catch the action and watch, hypnotised, as the steel drum band rhythmically circles the pool and climbs the steps to the cocktail bar. The wonderful soothing yet cheerful sound grows louder the closer they get until the group of perfectly synchronised musicians emerge onto the terrace, drums hanging in front of them, held up by wide leather straps around their necks. They deposit their instruments onto waiting drum stands that we didn’t spot before, barely missing a beat in the process. Then, less than a minute later, they wrap up the tune they’re playing to rapturous applause.

‘They’re so slick,’ I holler to my table mates over the clapping and cheering. ‘I’m really going to have to be at the top of my game on Monday.’

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