Page 33 of Girls Just Want to Have Sun

‘Emergencia? Sì, dos horas.’

‘Two hours!’ I wail. ‘No, gracias.’

Jorge it is. I dial the number, conscious of the minutes ticking by. Jorge picks up but tells me he is with the Dollz. ‘They are very, very, very excellent. I no go. I wait for end of show.’

Hopeless. Effing hopeless.

I turn my pleading eyes to Nacho, who swiftly grabs my hand, pulls me towards the gate and, before I know it, I’m clutching on to his soaking wet torso as he valiantly kicks up the stand of his moped with his flip-flop and we set off.

‘Don’t worry, I will get you there, Cenicienta!’ he says, laughing like a maniac.

I’m going to die. It’s so unfair. Bits of glitter are flying off me as we pelt round corners at a 45-degree angle and hurtle down a series of narrow backstreets. Not so much as a helmet or knee pad between us.

Jesus Christ.I am genuinely petrified.

‘Naaaachoooo… Caaaaan… you… sloooooow dooooown?’ I yell into the wind, only to immediately regret it as he turns round to face me, taking his eyes off the road for what feels like an eternity.

He is a raving lunatic. I cling on for dear life as he veers across two lanes of beeping traffic, all thoughts of ever fancying him cancelled out by fear. We suddenly screech to a halt after what could be seconds, minutes or hours. I get off the moped and stare blankly at Nacho. His handsome, reckless face breaks into a huge grin.

‘Fun, yes?’

I have no words.

With sweat beading on my forehead and legs wobbling like a newborn calf, I make my way over to The Jolly Roger. It is a huge, sprawling pub with doormen managing a crowd of people wanting to get in. It is nestled between two open-plan bars, both of which have topless women twirling on poles where a window might once have been.

They begin to touch their breasts provocatively as soon as they catch sight of Nacho. I can’t help but notice they have perfect jutting nipples, twinkling as their diamond piercings catch the light. They swing their hair around like two theatre curtains swishing together, their lips a glossy red to match their skyscraper heels and their tiny red thongs stuffed with euro notes. Nacho yells over to them in Spanish and they blow him kisses.

Desperate to get in, I squeeze through the crowd. There are hundreds of people here and much excited talk of Ted Sheeran and many posters and life-size cut-outs of the actual Ed Sheeran as though he’s actually performing live on The Strip tonight.

Deep breaths.

Deep breaths.

Nacho waves to the doormen, who let us straight through. As he chatters away next to me, I can barely hear him for the panic coursing through my veins and the ear-splitting sound of the Dollz belting out a rendition of ‘Salute’ by Little Mix. It’s no surprise to me that none of them noticed that I wasn’t on the minibus, and as Tash and the girls gyrate and execute their moves in perfect synchronicity, all I can do is stare with my jaw hanging open. They are saluting the crowd, and the crowd are saluting back. The girls have the entire place eating out of their hands, and the atmosphere is electric.

Nacho distracts me by pointing over to where his large group of friends are all dancing along in their seats. The Dollz look stunning up on stage with their outlandish costumes, the glitter sparkling against the spotlights. They exude confidence and a sexiness that I could never attain in my wildest dreams. I glance down at my costume in despair. Has it shrunk? I pull it down to an inch below my crotch and feel immediately self-conscious and out of place. I swivel my eyes around for the toilets so that I can get changed and lock eyes with Matteo, propped upagainst the bar. He takes a moment to squint at me as though he can’t quite place me. He seems slightly shocked at my glittery appearance but manages to hide it. Then he slides his gaze to Nacho hovering next to me and turns back to the barman.

I’m so late I feel sick. To my terror, the Dollz announce to the crowd that it was their last song, and the crowd erupts into enormous applause while the barman who Matteo was talking to grabs a microphone and invites everyone to cheer even more loudly for them as the girls cartwheel and shimmy off stage. He leans in towards Matteo before they both stare over at me.

My instinct is to bolt for the door. I very much regret ever getting on that bloody plane as a man who I assume is the manager walks towards me with the microphone, weaving in and out of tables packed with drinks and punters out for a good time, and makes a loud announcement.

‘Ladies and gentlemen.’

I try not to have a mild stroke as he gets closer. A hush falls. I really want the ground to swallow me up and never let me go.

‘If you think the Dollz were good… then you are in for a real surprise because tonight…’ he says, elaborately sweeping his arm across the crowd towards me as though he were in court, pointing out the accused.

‘Because tonight… ladies and gentlemen…’

It’s all very unnecessary but the crowd seem to be enjoying the build-up as they gawp expectantly at me.

‘…we have one of thetoptribute acts in the UK singing for you.’

I do wish he’d not go on.

‘She’s been hailed aseven betterthan Ted Sheeran. Can you believe it? Ladies and gentlemen, please give a huge Benidorm welcome tooooo… Connie Cooper!’

Oh. My. God. I am going to kill Nancy.

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