Page 49 of Will You Stay Another Day?
Later they sat on the sofa, listening to John’s favourite radio station, Smooth. He had one arm around her shoulders as they both sipped hot chocolate and she snuggled up.
‘Thanks for coming, Dad,’ she said. ‘This is nice.’
‘Any time, chick. Let’s see more of each other from now on. And no more trying to fool your old dad on the phone.’
‘Promise. But enough about me. How’s your dating going?’
‘I’ve met someone as well, although it’s only been a couple of months. She’s called Sal,’ he said. ‘But she lied to me too at first, you know; said she was a supervisor at the supermarket. Turns out she stocks shelves, a job she didn’t feel was impressive enough for a dating profile. God knows why, any job that pays the bills is great, and she’s an amazing woman, but we’ve talked it through.’ He took another sip and looked sideways at Lili. ‘Sal’s lies weren’t about her actual feelings. She wasn’t cheating. What you need to ask yourself is what this Dylan’s lies were really about. And Christ, I’ve made mistakes in my life, but most people deserve a second chance now and again – apart from the dickos.’ He chuckled then gave her a sharp look. ‘Not a third chance though. Us Taylors aren’t mugs, right? But if he means as much to you as I think he does, perhaps you should at least hear this Dylan out.’
John put his drink on the coffee table, removed his arm and fully faced her. ‘Also, speaking Taylor to Taylor, you’ve a ticket for Vegas. Why on earth would you miss out on a trip like that? Em wouldn’t approve. Go for it, girl!’
He had a point. Em would be mightily pissed off if Lili avoided going on their dream trip because of a bloke.
‘You go to America. See the sights. And remember to get me that pack of cards.’
32
Leaving the body scanners and passport checks behind, Lili stood in Harry Reid International Airport next to her case, glad to stretch her legs after the eleven-hour flight. She admired a nearby glittering Christmas tree before winding her way between bustling travellers, cleaners, a row of stewards, and a pilot. The mish-mashed aroma of duty-free booze, sweat and coffee welcomed her to Sin City, as Glenda had called it yesterday, along with intercom announcements, squeaking luggage trolleys and babbling tourists.
Lili had made it through the tense wait in the departure lounge back in Heathrow last night. Saturday 13 December, an unlucky number for some – but her luck must have been in, because there had been no sign of Dylan, and she hadn’t seen him on the plane either. They’d booked separately so he might have chosen a different flight. She hadn’t been able to relax until her delayed aeroplane finally took off in the early hours of Sunday. He hadn’t contacted her at all last week. She’d checked her phone numerous times. Of course, it was a great relief. It was.
Maybe she should have heard him out, like Dad had said, but Dylan had dropped contact now, so he couldn’t have valued their friendship that much. A shard of emptiness cut through her chest. Damn Dylan Davis for tapping into the space inside her that had emptied out since Em died. She’d allowed him to fill it with all the good things again, like hope and excitement, like laughter, but then his lies had pierced through and all the newfound warmth and comfort had trickled away.
Stupid Lili had forgotten how important it was to rely on no one but yourself.
Meg had waved her off from work yesterday with strict instructions to photograph any celebrities, and Tommo wanted snaps of any cool American motorbikes – or classic cars. A mate of his was into them. Lili had landed in Nevada early afternoon. She passed through crowds, to the taxi rank outside, and took a moment, in the fresh, mild air, enjoying the quiet away from the bustling travellers.
Myrtle Evans, I wish you were here.
She didn’t feel like making small talk during the taxi ride, so she put in her ear pods and prepared for a snooze. However, she soon started paying attention as they drove along a solitary road through the flat desert. The surreal scene was like something out of a spaghetti western, passing the occasional box-shaped café, house or shop. The taxi driver got chatting about Nevada’s mountain ranges, the mafia introducing casinos in the 1930s for workers who built the Hoover Dam, and how the words Las Vegas actually meant the meadows, hardly a glitzy name.
What a contrast the desert drive was to the Strip. As they arrived, Lili sat back, overwhelmed. Her eyes adjusted to a kaleidoscope of buildings and signs advertising restaurants and shops, the architecture so tall and bold. Discreet wasn’t a Vegas thing, with its flashy cocktail lounges and sports bars. Dusk was approaching and the buildings were already lit up, along with extravagant Christmas decorations in windows and street fairy lights. At this time of year, the palm trees looked out of place. The taxi driver offered to drive her up and down the Strip – but said it was busy and the tour might take a while. Still, she was only there for four days. Blow the expense, said Em’s voice in her head.
Wow. What a dopamine hit for the eyes. The drive created a medley of incredible sights, like Caesar’s Palace, with its awe-inspiring Greco-Roman design that made her think of the Trafford Centre back in Manchester. The Fountains of Bellagio as well! And there was the Eiffel Tower, about half the size of the original Paris one! Mentally, she ticked off the iconic sights that she and Em had seen online. The Luxor hotel was pyramid-shaped and the Excalibur had a medieval castle theme, with impressive turrets. Las Vegas was so extra, as Meg would say. One surprise was how ordinary everyone looked, but then most passersby were tourists. Also there were homeless people, sporadically camped along the roads. She and Em had imagined that every person in Vegas would be decked out in designer suits, sunglasses and shiny medallions. Yet they’d read the bad reviews as well – the stinky drains, the super-high prices – but it hadn’t put them off. A holiday destination was like a book, they reckoned. One person’s desert was another person’s oasis.
The taxi driver chatted again, giving her tips on the seasonal sights, such as how The Cosmopolitan hotel’s outdoor Boulevard Pool had been turned into an ice rink, and that there was an attraction called Winter PARQ where snow fell every half an hour. Eventually, he pulled up at the Pleasure Star hotel. Lili paid and got out. She squinted up at the building, with its thousand rooms. Not as many as the MGM Grand further down the Strip that had more than five times that. The word ‘scraper’ in skyscraper came from the Old Norse ‘skrapa’, meaning to erase, but not even the colossal stainless steel and glass structures in Vegas would have been able to erase the sky that earlier had been as blue and clear as the Greek island waters she and Em had swum in, one summer. Lili smiled at the doorman and entered the hotel, excitement running through her veins.
Em would have grinned at Lili as they walked in, a grin that would have said so much: Look at us! We don’t belong here! But who gives a shit, we’re here to paint the town green! That was a joke from their teenage years, before they’d understood their tolerance of alcohol and after a night out often ended up being sick.
Lili inhaled. How lucky are you to be here, living in such luxury, a place built for nothing but pleasure? How lucky to simply be living, she told herself. Vegas is for partying, not pity-partying.
Whistling, Lili passed a Christmas tree, decked out in silver and gold baubles. She got her room key, then stood and digested her surroundings, as if they were a rich, decadent meal that couldn’t be hurried. There were a few shops ahead, a pizza kiosk as well, and a kiosk that sold pastries, both with queues. There was no Sunday downturn here. Far behind that was a selection of restaurants. Further back from there were the outdoor pools; she’d seen them online. To her left, at the front of the hotel, was a bar and casino area, with croupiers patiently teaching tourists the rules of Blackjack, and a sign pointing to a poker room. Because any member of the public could walk in to use these facilities, when she went up the stairs, to use the lifts that took residents to their rooms, a member of staff checked that she had a key card. Wearing the burgundy uniform with gold trim, he was seriously cute, and by the look in his eyes, he thought the same about her. She imagined him taking Lili to her room and insisting on a personal tour. He’d open a bottle of bubbly from the minibar. They’d chat and laugh and he’d turn down the sheets, raising an eyebrow to see if she wanted anything more than housekeeping service and…
Meg would have been impressed with the fantasy had the mental picture not fizzled away without so much as a quicker heartbeat. Damn Dylan Davis. He’d extinguished her desire to think about other guys, even here, at the world’s epicentre of hedonism.
The lift hummed its way upwards. How many floors did this place have? There was one for the spa and indoor pool, another for the food hall. Finally she found her room, realising how very tired she was. It was five in the afternoon here, but already Monday in Cornwall. Lili felt as if she’d been travelling forever.
‘Holy… Look at this, Em,’ she said out loud and gasped. The bed was long, wide, deep and a chocolate nutcracker doll lay on each of the pillows. It shouted luxury with its gold sheets and damask headboard. The voluminous curtains matched those colours. She picked up a nearby iPad. When they’d booked their rooms here, this had been a feature mentioned. It controlled the lights and heating and you ordered room service via it. When Lili turned on the screen, a dancing reindeer was the first thing to appear. She quickly worked out how to use it and opened the blinds. What a sight! She gazed at the skyline, a disorderly, fun, bright, flashing patchwork of neon signs, of moving lights, of hooting cars and blaring music that even reached the floor where she was staying.
‘Remember what we promised to do as soon as we arrived?’ Lili asked, tilting her head upwards. She got out her phone and went onto Spotify, found ‘Waking Up In Vegas’ by Katy Perry and put it on full blast. Lili threw her phone on the bed and began singing as loudly as she could, jumping up and down in the air, closing her eyes and shaking her head at the chorus. When the song ended, Lili grinned.
‘Woo hoo! Luv ya, Em!’
She sat up. But what was that? Another knock rapped on the connecting door and a familiar voice came through.
Dylan? So he had travelled here?
An urge overwhelmed her to run into his arms and lean her head against his chest, to lose herself in the familiar in such unfamiliar surroundings. But then she relived the sense of humiliation, feeling like a fool for believing his travelling stories about Harry.
