About a Girl (27 page)

‘You look like a princess,’ he confirmed, hurrying me out of the door before I could look in a full-length mirror. I did not look like a princess. I looked like someone wearing a too-tight-in-the-boobs black lace dress that was so short I was fairly certain you could see where babies came from, and enough make-up to make the average
Real Housewife
gasp in horror.

‘Where are we going?’ I asked, pressing my nose against the glass of the black town car he bundled me into as we cruised out of Bennett’s giant gates and onto the open road.

‘Waikiki,’ Kekipi replied. ‘My job is to keep you entertained, and I can’t think of anything more entertaining than filling you up with cocktails and seeing what happens. Especially since your fellow fashion compadres are all either AWOL or knocked out on Night Nurse.’

I made myself laugh. I didn’t care what Paige and Nick got up to. I just wished Paige had better taste in men. And I wished Nick’s penis would shrivel up and fall off.

‘So if we’re going to Waikiki, where are we now?’ I was not very clear on my Hawaiian geography and was becoming increasingly upset about leaving the beach behind for what looked suspiciously like Doncaster town centre. In the fifteen minutes we’d been in the car, we’d already passed three McDonald’s drive-thrus.

‘Hawaii 101.’ Kekipi brushed some imaginary dust from the shoulder of his impeccable navy blue polo shirt and then fanned out his hands. ‘The state is made up of hundreds of islands, but there are eight main islands. Of those, the most densely populated is Oahu, which is where you are now.’

‘You hate giving this lecture, don’t you?’ I asked, brushing some very real dust off my shoulder and fanning my hands out to check for grubby fingernails. I shouldn’t have bothered.

‘Yes,’ he replied. ‘The Bennett estate is in Kailua, a small town on the windward side of the island, and around twelve miles to the south of Kailua is the city of Honolulu. Waikiki is a neighbourhood in Honolulu. With me?’

I nodded.

‘Waikiki is famous for its beach. It’s where the majority of Hawaii’s tourists visit and where most of the nightlife is on the island.’

‘So it’s a good place?’ I asked, shaking out my long, loose waves. ‘It’s cool?’

‘That I did not say.’ Kekipi slapped my hands away from my hair and pulled it all over one shoulder. ‘But it’s better than going to play half-price games at Dave & Busters in the mall. Just barely. There. Now don’t touch your hair again or I will have to slap you.’

‘Yes, boss.’ I placed my hands in my lap and pressed my lips together, gnawing nervously on the bottom one. And then remembered I was wearing lipstick for the first time in eleven years and stopped. Then immediately did it again. Being a girl was hard.

‘Now, tell me everything that’s happening with Mr Miller.’ Kekipi leaned across the small, glass-topped table and opened his wide brown eyes. ‘Should I be picking my maid-of-honour dress yet?’

‘Before I start lying, can I ask whether or not there are security cameras in the cottages?’ I groaned. His big, beautiful eyes lit up and his fluffy eyelashes fluttered.

‘Two mai tais, please?’ Kekipi ordered before our waiter could even open his mouth. Instead he gave us an unconcerned shrug and headed right back to the bar. ‘They’re both for you. Now, tell me everything.’

‘I don’t really know where to start.’ I drummed my fingers against the table and looked to the heavens for an answer. They presented me with a clear, blue-black sky bedazzled with the brightest stars I’d ever seen, but they did not provide an answer. Bastards. ‘It’s all such a great big pile of bollocks.’

We were sitting at some swanky hotel pool bar by a beautiful marina in the center of Waikiki, as if Bertie Bennett, his Barbie dream house, Nick, Paige, the waterfalls, the models, all of it, didn’t exist. When you couldn’t see the mountains, the flowers and the fruit and the endless miles of beach, you could be anywhere in the world. Well, anywhere with a marina full of beautiful sailing boats and dozens of so-hip-it-hurt American tourists. I’d spent so much time with Nick and Paige that it was easy to forget I was technically in America and not on the set of a very special episode of
Made in Chelsea
.

Kekipi took my silence with good humour for all of seventeen seconds, letting me soak in the ambience of the bar and the marina, before he could be quiet no longer.

‘Vanessa, have you had sex with him or not?’ The words literally exploded out of him, attracting the attention of at least four neighbouring tables. ‘Because, yes, we do have security videos, but do not make me look at them. I don’t want to see anything I don’t have myself.’

‘Good news, everyone,’ I announced to my new friends at the other tables. ‘I have had sex with him.’

‘Is he hot?’ an Australian girl with short blonde hair sitting two tables away asked loudly.

‘He’s
so
hot,’ Kekipi replied before I could, ‘that I’ve thought about drugging his coffee, just so I can sneak in and take a peek. If you know what I mean.’

‘Everyone knows what you mean,’ I hissed before turning to offer the Australian girl an awkward, all-teeth smile. ‘He is quite hot.’

‘Good on you, girly.’ She held up her drink in a toast. ‘Give him one for me.’

Where were my mai tais? I really wanted a drink.

‘OK, so you’ve hit that.’ Kekipi slapped the table to regain my attention. ‘And while I will be needing each and every dirty detail, it seems as though you’re conflicted, young grasshopper. For what reason I cannot even possibly begin to imagine. What’s going on?’

Even though Kekipi was a thirty-something gay Hawaiian man sitting here waiting for cocktails and sharing boy banter, it almost felt as though I was back on the sofa at home with Amy. He had an amazing ability to make me feel comfortable, despite the fact that half the bar was still discussing my recent shag action, and so, for no good reason, I told him everything. Everything about Nick, anyway.

‘It’s so weird,’ I said, gratefully accepting my drink, immediately inhaling the wedge of pineapple off the side and gulping down half the glass. I could not get drunk. I had to take photos of models in twelve hours. But one or two would be good ? calm my nerves, help me sleep. ‘I genuinely wasn’t interested. That first night at dinner, I was like, yeah, he’s handsome, but he’s such a twat, and twat has never really been something that’s done it for me.’

‘I wish it didn’t do it for me,’ he replied, sipping his drink at half the speed I was making my way through mine. ‘Something of a flaw of mine. It’s not my fault, though ? I’m gay.’

‘Does being gay mean you only fancy arseholes?’ I asked, pushing my drink ever so slightly away. Kekipi pushed it right back.

‘Drink. And yes, of course it does. Now carry on.’

‘Well, yeah, I didn’t fancy him.’ I sucked on the straw and peeked out at my date from under heavily made-up lids and lashes. ‘Right, OK, I fancied him. Objectively, I knew he was fanciable, but I didn’t have designs on him.’

I felt myself making air quotes around the word ‘designs’ and stopped myself right away. It was an Old Tess thing to do.

‘Clearly at some point you developed designs,’ he said, copying my air quotes. ‘What changed?’

‘I’ve had a load of really shitty stuff happening at home,’ I said. I felt that covered losing my job, shagging my best friend, telling him I loved him, him telling me he didn’t love me, finding out he’d shagged my awful flatmate and then assuming her identity and stealing her job. No need to go into specifics. ‘And, I don’t know ? he got under my skin. And when I snapped, he was there. So I kissed him.’

‘You kissed him?’ Kekipi squealed. He was a man secure enough in his homosexuality that he had no interest in not reinforcing gay stereotypes. ‘Just like that? Just kissed him?’

‘Yes?’ It clearly sounded just as unlikely to me as it did to him. Probably more so. Here was a man who had met a woman three days ago, and the only solid facts he had to go on while weighing her up was that she had shagged a complete stranger she was supposed to be working with and she really liked eating Cheetos. I was actually doing a much better job of being Vanessa than I could have anticipated.

‘And then what? Why is it a problem? Or rather, why is it a great big pile of bollocks?’

‘Because it’s just sex.’ I could barely say the words. It really was a miracle that I’d actually been able to do it in the first place. ‘It is a press trip fling. It is purely physical.’

‘But you like him,’ Kekipi said.

‘I don’t know,’ I replied, being as honest as I could possibly be. ‘Because I love someone else.’

‘Ah.’ He winced. ‘I see.’

‘And I’m fairly sure –’ I sighed heavily and downed the rest of my drink. It was practically just juice. I could barely taste any alcohol at all ? ‘he’s shagging Paige as well.’

‘What makes you think that?’ He made the same concerned face as Amy. Half,
Tess, I’m listening
, and half,
Tess, are you being a paranoid psycho again?
‘Just because they’re not home doesn’t mean they’re shagging.’

‘No, but she basically told me she was planning to shag him, and then I saw them getting into the boat together, and I’m fairly certain he’d shag you if you were the only willing partner around. No offence.’

‘None taken,’ he said with conviction. ‘So Paige likes Mr Miller? That doesn’t mean Mr Miller likes Paige. I’m sure they were just … doing something.’

‘Doing something?’ I quirked an eyebrow so high I heard it ping off the moon.

‘Something else,’ he qualified. ‘Work related. But more importantly, you saw them together and you were jealous?’

I half shook my head, half shrugged, and picked a great big glob of mascara out of the corner of my eye. ‘I didn’t say that.’

‘Oh, you were.’ He purred the last word as though he was the cat that had caught the canary. Or got the cream. Or eaten the canary and then had some cream for afters. ‘So even though it’s just sex and you are in love with someone else, you don’t like the idea of him being with someone else. Interesting.’

‘No it isn’t,’ I said, even though it clearly was.

‘We’ll put a pin in that.’ He pinched his shoulders and moved on. ‘What exactly did Paige tell you about Mr Miller?’

‘That she likes him, that he’s a professional shagger, that I’m a horrible person for sleeping with him when she likes him,’ I replied. ‘I added that last part.’

The waiter sauntered back towards our table, yawned loudly and picked up my empty glass.

‘Could I have another, please? When you’ve got a minute?’ I asked as politely as possible.

He looked at me, looked at Kekipi, and walked away without answering.

‘Everyone here is an asshole,’ Kekipi said, just loudly enough for the waiter to hear. Not that he reacted. I assumed he was either really high, really rude or semi-lobotomized. ‘But they really do have the best cocktails. When we’re smashed, we’ll go across the street to the horrible dive bar and sing karaoke.’

‘I can’t get smashed,’ I said with a tiny hiccup that hardly supported my argument. ‘I’ve got the shoot tomorrow.’

‘You’ll be fine,’ he promised. ‘I won’t let you get too wasted. But back to the story ? tell me more about this man at home.’

‘You don’t think I’m horrible for sleeping with Nick when I knew Paige liked him?’

‘I don’t think we’re in tenth grade, so I don’t think it matters. They’re not together, he didn’t cheat, you didn’t cheat.’ He rapped his knuckles against my forehead. ‘And I think if a man that hot was coming on to me – and make no mistake about it, Vanessa, he was coming on to you at dinner on Monday night; I was there, I saw ? then I think someone would have to hit me with a truck to stop me sleeping with him.’

But I still couldn’t shake the thought that I had cheated on Paige. I knew she’d be pissed, especially after the real Vanessa had boffed her ex. I was becoming altogether too good at playing my part.

‘Tell me more about this man you’re in love with. I’m assuming it’s not a happily-ever-after-type affair?’ Kekipi drank the last dregs of his cocktails as the waiter wandered back over with our fresh drinks and held out the empty glass without a word. The waiter took it and stood beside us, silent, staring.

‘Is everything OK?’ I asked. He looked like someone had just run over his cat.

‘I need, like, a credit card or something?’ He blinked at me once and held out a hand. ‘And, uh, do you want food?’

‘We do not want food, and here is a credit card.’ Kekipi handed him a black American Express card and waved him along. ‘Honestly, I hate being rude to wait staff – I have been wait staff – but I’m really worried he’s off his medication.’

I laughed, wondering how many waiters on Oahu had black Amexes, but nodded along all the same.

‘So, man at home, wiki wiki.’ He clapped his hands again. ‘On a scale of one to Nick, how hot? And what’s the relationship status?’

‘Definitely Nick hot. Just, different. Just, not Nick.’ I found it really hard to compare the two in my mind. Nick was all fire and physical and total frustration. Charlie was … Charlie was everything. ‘He’s my best friend, I’ve been in love with him since uni – since college – and we finally did the deed a week ago and then I told him I loved him and then he said he didn’t love me. Oh, and I found out he’s been shagging one of my mates.’

Once again skipping over the details on anything Vanessa-related.

‘Hmm, tough one.’ He leaned back in his chair and pursed his full lips. ‘But I’m going to say your friend is a douchebag and you should probably fake a pregnancy to make Nick marry you.’

‘Considered, practical advice,’ I said, nodding slowly, a smile on my face. ‘My friend is a douchebag.’ It felt so good to say it. ‘But I think Nick probably is a douchebag too.’

‘Nick is definitely a douchebag. If he met the douchebag tribe out in the jungle, they would worship him and make him their king. But, and I say this with love –’ he gestured at me to drink my drink. I didn’t need telling twice ? ‘it sounds to me like your baby box is lonely. It’s sad and it’s lonely. It needs a friend and I think you should let him be that friend.’

‘You remind me so much of my Amy,’ I laughed. Second hiccup. What was in these drinks? ‘She would agree with you.’