Page 38 of The Suite Life
‘Coming right up,’ he replies. ‘I’ll be right back.’
As Todd heads to the bar, I glance over at Donnie and give him a nod. He returns a supportive smile before gracefully making his exit. The last thing I want is for Todd to catch wind of my ‘wingman’ observing from the other side of the bar. Let’s not make any of this weird, for once,please.
Todd returns with two elaborate cocktails, which he places down proudly.
‘It’s called a Million Bucks,’ he tells me, leaning in with a conspiratorial smile. ‘Because it’s expensive. Not quite a million bucks but it’s pushing four figures, so it had better be good.’
My eyes widen involuntarily, but Todd doesn’t seem bothered by the extravagant price tag. I take a sip, and it is really good – I can taste cola, vanilla, and rum, all of which I love. It’s undeniably delicious, yet I can’t discern any significant difference from the comparatively cheaper drink I had earlier. But, come on, cut me some slack, I’ve only been living the suite life for a day.
We sit together on the golden sofa, sipping our overpriced drinks, as Todd leads the conversation.
‘You know, I once had this truffle-infused dish in a bistro in Paris,’ he begins. ‘Absolutely divine. I can still taste it. It probably cost a week’s wages to some people.’
I nod, feigning interest, but not in love with the way he’s telling the story.
‘And then there was this dessert in Dubai,’ he continues. ‘It was covered in gold leaf – again, so expensive. Almost too beautiful to eat.’
‘Amazing,’ I say, trying to sound like I mean it.
‘Come on then, Gigi.’ He turns to me with an expectant look. ‘What’s the most expensive thing you’ve ever eaten?’
I take another sip of the Million Bucks cocktail – it might be expensive, but it can’t work miracles.
Caught off guard, I furrow my brow, pretending to rack my brain for the answer.
‘Oh, you know, it all blurs into one, doesn’t it?’ I reply with a casual shrug.
‘I guess it does,’ he replies.
Todd takes a leisurely sip of his pricey cocktail as he thinks about what to say next.
‘When you’re not here in Hawaii, obviously, where do you like to go on vacation? Any favourite spots?’ he asks.
I feel a momentary panic as I consider my options. Blackpool and Magaluf don’t exactly scream luxury, do they? I take a thoughtful pause, my mind racing to conjure up a suitable response.
‘Oh, you know,’ I say, trying to sound cool and casual. ‘Usually Bali. It’s my go-to holiday spot.’
His eyebrows raise in genuine interest.
‘Bali, really? That sounds amazing. What do you enjoy doing there?’
‘Just the usual, you know – exploring the beautiful beaches, relaxing…’
I’ve never been to Bali so I have zero idea what I’m talking about.
‘Do you stay in Inagua?’ he probes further, raising an eyebrow.
‘Of course,’ I reply.
‘Inagua is in the Bahamas,’ he says, suspicion building.
‘I know that,’ I say, laughing. ‘I didn’t want to embarrass you, by correcting you – obviously I’ve been there too, though. To be honest, my family leans more towards ski holidays than beach getaways.’
‘I’m a level five,’ he tells me enthusiastically, pleased to have finally found something we can talk about. ‘You?’
Why did I mention skiing? What’s wrong with me? Of fucking course he skis – and of fucking course I know nothing about the levels. Are there only five? Do they go up or down? Is five the best, or is it out of twenty?
‘Same,’ I reply simply, hoping I’ve given the right answer.
