Page 79 of The Suite Life
Perhaps I don’t need that plus-one after all.
37
‘I know what you’re thinking,’ Lucy says, narrowing her eyes at me. ‘You’re thinking about how crappy my luxury hotel room seems, in comparison to your suite.’
I laugh, because she’s obviously joking.
Lucy’s hotel room, while by no means shabby, is obviously smaller than my suite – it would be weird if it weren’t. It is, however, a beautiful room. The walls are painted in a soothing shade of blue, the decor is tasteful – and she’s certainly kept the bedroom area a lot tidier than I have in my suite. Jokes aside, though, I can’t help but feel a pang of guilt, knowing that this is Lucy’s special week, and I’m the one with the luxurious room. Then again, Rick is well off (a combination of his inheritance and his work running the family business – something to do with finance, that I’ll probably never be wealthy enough to need to understand) so I’m sure she has a lifetime of luxury holidays ahead of her, whereas for me, this is probably my one shot to experience how the other half live.
‘Lucy, darling, I don’t know how you survive in such humble surroundings,’ I tease, giving her a playful nudge as I lean into the joke. She rolls her eyes, a smile tugging at her lips.
‘You’re lucky I’m excited about tonight – and that I need you here, to curl my hair – or I would boot you out of my humble room,’ she jokes before turning her attention to our mum. ‘Are you sure you don’t want to join us?’
Mum waves a hand dismissively.
‘Oh, no, definitely not,’ she insists. ‘A nightclub – whether it be an outdoor one or an indoor one – is absolutely not our scene. You young ones have fun, your dad and I are going to enjoy a quiet, romantic evening – and if he had heard me say that he would probably joke that I’ll be enjoying it, but that he will just be there.’
I laugh. We all love Dad’s jokes.
‘You don’t want us oldies cramping your style,’ she adds.
‘I know that we’re not exactly old,’ I point out to Lucy, ‘but have you been referred to as a “young one” recently?’
‘I have not,’ she replies. ‘I must be getting on, though, because I like it.’
‘You two were always keen to pretend you were older, when you were teens,’ Mum reminds us.
‘And now we’re older, trying to pretend we’re young,’ Lucy jokes back. ‘I’m going to jump in the shower while Gigi works her magic on your hair, Mum. Don’t leave before I get a chance to say bye, will you?’
‘Of course not,’ Mum says. ‘It might be my last chance to see you, as a technically single woman, before your wedding day.’
‘Don’t freak me out,’ Lucy replies as she disappears into the bathroom.
I plug in my straighteners in front of the dressing table, ready to work my magic on my mum. She usually wears her hair straight but, when she’s going out, she loves me to curl it for her.
‘Come on then, let’s show your dad I’m not totally past it,’ she says with a playful sigh.
My mum takes a seat, and I begin curling her hair, adding a touch of glamour to her already elegant look. She always looks great – certainly not past it. The level Mum will dress up to, even just to go to the supermarket, is beyond the effort I would put in on most nights out these days. Age doesn’t come into it at all – in anything, I think my generation is lazier about how they look. Honestly, at work people reckon balayage is trendier than a full head of highlights now, and maybe it is, but I reckon it’s mostly just because you don’t have to keep on top of the regrowth like you do with highlights, you can just leave it to grow out, and it looks no different. It’s a lazy person’s dye job, that’s for sure – that’s why I have it.
Mum is wearing a chic, knee-length floral dress that perfectly complements her vibrant personality. Her make-up, which Lucy did before she headed for the shower, matches it too.
‘Mum, you look stunning,’ I tell her as I allow another curl to fall down at the side of her head.
She smiles back at me through the mirror.
‘Why, thank you, my dear,’ she says. ‘It’s been a while since your dad and I had a romantic meal out together. I thought I’d give your father a pleasant surprise, by showing him I can still dress up.’
‘So, what’s the plan for you and Dad tonight?’ I ask, making conversation as I focus on the task at hand – it’s a reflex, it really is.
‘Oh, a nice quiet dinner, just the two of us,’ she says. ‘Maybe a stroll on the beach after…’
‘That sounds perfect,’ I reply.
Perfect and, to be honest, more my scene than an outdoor nightclub. Maybe I am getting older, because I would much rather eat, and then take a stroll under the stars.
‘I wonder if your dad will put in as much effort,’ she thinks out loud.
‘If you’re lucky, he might even use shampoo tonight, instead of just using his usual shower gel from head to toe,’ I joke.
