Page 32 of The Suite Life
I face out from the bar, over the pool area, as I go to choose a drink but, instead, I find myself surveying the other guests, trying to pick out of them instead.
It’s so strange, and I feel like a bit of a predator, but I need to find myself a man. Not just any man, though, oh no, someone who comes across as impressive enough that they could be the person keeping me in the lifestyle I am accustomed to. Yes, I am accustomed to this lifestyle already, after only one day.
I turn back to face the bar, my eyes scanning the list of drinks, trying to pick just one that I fancy, but with every single one sounding delicious, that five-a-day joke I just made might become a reality.
I look up to see the barman, just as he places a cocktail down in front of me.
‘I saw you browsing the menu so I thought I would help you out,’ he tells me. ‘I thought you might like this one.’
I smile at him, then at the drink, because that’s normal.
Inside the tall glass, the liquid shifts in colour, from turquoise at the bottom, through different colours of the rainbow, finishing with a delicious-looking shade of magenta at the top. It reminds me of the colours I’ve seen already here, the sea, the sky, the sand, the sunset last night. It really is a masterpiece, topped off with a sugared rim and a huge chunk of pineapple.
‘Thank you,’ I say, raising the glass to my lips.
Oh, my goodness, it smells like everything. Passionfruit, coconut, mint, heaven. It’s the kind of drink that, if I weren’t already in Maui, would most definitely transport me here.
I take a sip and, wow, I expected it to taste good but this is something else. I assume it’s alcoholic but you wouldnever know from the taste, there’s no sharpness to it, no bitter aftertaste. It’s just a big fruity glass of holiday. I love it.
I don’t know which drink it is, but the barman made a good choice for me – if only picking a man was this easy.
As I turn back around on my stool, surveying the pool area like a hawk in search of its prey, a man around my age approaches me. He’s broad-shouldered, with a shock of auburn hair. He’s definitely rugged, and unsteady on his feet, it would appear.
‘Hello,’ he says, greeting me with an unmistakable Glaswegian accent. ‘Are you a Brit?’
‘How did you know?’ I reply with a smile.
‘Your pale skin and the fact you’re hitting the drink before lunch,’ he points out with a chuckle. ‘Not that there’s anything wrong with that. I started drinking yesterday afternoon – I haven’t stopped yet.’
‘Nice,’ I reply simply.
If I didn’t believe his words then his breath would almost certainly confirm his alibi. I can smell the booze on him from here. If it were possible to get drunk from second-hand drinking, then I would be positively tipsy right now.
‘I’m Gary,’ he introduces himself. ‘Gary Garrie – so good, they named me twice.’
I can’t help but laugh, although I’m not sure if he’s joking.
‘I’m Gigi,’ I say politely.
‘What are you doing here? Are you here alone?’ he asks curiously.
‘I’m here with my sister, for her wedding,’ I explain. ‘The whole family is here. You?’
‘I won a competition,’ he slurs. ‘And I’d just lost my job anyway, so I thought, fuck it, I’m going to Hawaii. It’s bloody expensive, though, isn’t it?’
‘It really is,’ I agree.
‘Anyway, I’m off to find my room,’ he announces with a scratch of his head. ‘Wherever it is. Maybe I’ll see you later.’
‘Yeah, good luck,’ I reply with a polite smile.
As he stumbles off, it’s clear that Gary Garrie is neither wedding date material nor someone who can help me bag myself one by propping up the bar with me.
As I take a big gulp of my cocktail, I can’t help but wonder if this whole ordeal is utterly ridiculous. What the hell am I doing – what am I hoping will happen? If there ever was a moment to back out of this silly charade, to come clean and admit the truth, it’s probably now. But, damn, the thought of confessing is almost more embarrassing than the entire charade itself. I can’t walk it back now, not without looking even more tragic than if I’d just decided to go to the wedding alone to begin with.
My options are seriously limited. I could find someone to take with me, but that’s quite obviously not something that’s coming naturally to me, or I could claim that my supposed date got held up and couldn’t make it, but Sunshine is already suspicious, and getting caught in the act would surely be the most humiliating outcome of all.
The truth is, I need a date – not just to save face, although that’s certainly up there, but because I genuinely want one. The idea of being the lone singleton amidst all the couples on the dance floor during the bride and groom’s first dance is tragic. Bloody hell, if Lucy plans to throw her bouquet, she may as well just hand it to me, to save us all some time.
