Page 50 of The Suite Life
I just about manage to stop my eyes from widening as I realise I am chatting with a Premier League footballer. I know that Liverpool City is a football team, because who doesn’t? But otherwise I am totally clueless about football. I am not clueless enough, however, not to realise that a footballer would make an impressive date for a wedding though.
I play it cool, feigning nonchalance.
‘Oh, I’m not really into football,’ I tell him. ‘But who knows, our paths might have crossed somewhere.’
He extends a hand, introducing himself.
‘I’m Olly Jones,’ he tells me. ‘And what’s your name?’
‘Gigi,’ I say with a smile.
As the words leave my lips, I notice his eyebrows raise ever so slightly.
‘Do you want to grab a drink later?’ he asks. ‘We can figure out if we know each other, and if not, we can get to know each other.’
I smile as I think about his offer. Is it possible that he’s heard about G.G. Marsden? I can’t help but wonder. Still, if he’s only interested in me because he thinks I’m rich, then maybe I don’t need to feel bad about taking him to a wedding, just because he’s got a good job.
‘Okay, sounds good,’ I say, allowing my excitement to lightly bubble above the surface.
Maybe Olly likes me, or maybe he’s drawn to the allure of G.G. Either way, he could be the answer to all of my problems.
Donnie was right – perhaps the perfect wedding date does just pop up when you least expect it. Olly might not bethe one, but he could be the someone I’ve been looking for.
25
As soon as I learned that the resort had its own clothing boutique, I knew that I needed to visit. Don’t get me wrong, I love shopping at the best of times, but tonight I’ve got a date with a footballer, and I definitely didn’t pack anything to wear that screamed: WAG.
I stroll into the resort shop, a casual air about me – because the last thing I want is to getPretty Womaned – and begin to browse the rails. I just need to act like I own the place, like I can afford anything in here – while secretly praying that I can actually affordsomethingin here.
It’s a fashion lover’s dream. Rails upon rails of dresses, each one more exquisite than the last, are just waiting to be tried on, and then taken out somewhere fancy. The fabrics range from delicate silk to bold sequins, in every colour, length and style I can think of.
Oh, and then there is the wall of shoes. High heels, sandals, and boots in every imaginable style and colour are neatly displayed like a work of art. I honestly don’t know where to begin – but if there was a way to sort them priced from low to high, that would be super helpful.
The woman behind the counter glances up and, as if hit by a bolt of lightning, her eyes widen. She hurries over, all smiles and excitement.
‘Hello there!’ she greets, practically beaming. ‘Ms Marsden?’
‘Uh, yeah, that’s me,’ I reply, bewildered.
‘Fantastic,’ she replies with a clap of her hands. ‘We did wonder if you were going to stop by.’
‘You did?’ I say.
‘Of course – did no one tell you that our VIP guests can borrow anything they want while they are a guest here?’ she says.
No, they did fucking not. Oh my God, why am I wearing a single item of my own clothes?
‘I didn’t know that,’ I say with a smile.
‘Well, in that case, we’ve got some catching up to do,’ she replies. ‘My name is Corin, I’ll be your fairy godmother today.’
Corin barks orders at different members of staff, calling them all to action.
Different staff members emerge, each bearing an armful of garments, all looking like they’re ready to transform me into a goddess. Someone else materialises with a tray of champagne. Okay, now I really do feel like I’m inPretty Woman, but the nice bit, where they let her shop.
‘Oh, thank you,’ I say, accepting a glass.
I think I’ve had more champagne on this holiday than I’d had to date before I arrived.
