Clara in America (Clara Andrews Series - Book 7) (7 page)

Narrowly avoiding a sundae disaster, I take the remnants of Noah’s ice-cream and dispose of it in a nearby bin. I am now left with one very sticky, but very happy baby. Result. Sticking my tongue out at him, I rest my arms on the handles of the pram as Oliver comes to a stop at a slushy stand. Tons of cocktails and mocktails fill the chalkboard, each one sounding more delicious than the last.

‘Can we take three daiquiris, please?’ Oliver asks the vendor. ‘Mom, what flavour do you want?’

Applying yet another layer of pillar box red to overly inflated lips, Janie slips the lipstick back into her handbag and flashes me a wink.

‘Strawberry…’

Fixing her eyes on mine, she lets out a loud hoot and shakes her messy beehive. A shudder runs along my spine as I look away and try my hardest not to laugh. I think it’s safe to say that I won’t be looking at a strawberry the same way
ever
again…

In a world filled with peas, be a strawberry…

Kissing a sloshed Janie on both cheeks, I watch her wobble off along the lobby and disappear into her hotel room.

‘Do you think she will be alright?’ I whisper to Oliver, who is shaking his head in revulsion at the sight of his highly intoxicated mother.

‘She’ll be fine.’

‘Are you sure? She has had
so
much to drink!’ Janie’s drunken state might be very funny, but I am genuinely a little concerned about her welfare.

‘Trust me.’ Oliver laughs and turns the pram around. ‘I’ve seen her drink more at breakfast.’

Stifling a giggle, I link my arm through his as we make our way back to the lift. Luckily for us, there weren’t any available rooms on our level, so Janie is an entire floor beneath us. I know this might sound mean, but if you’ve ever had the displeasure of sharing an adjoining room with her, you would be relieved too. Peeking into the pram, I am thankful to see that Noah is finally starting to doze off.

‘Do you think we could sneak one final drink before we hit the hay?’ I look up at Oliver hopefully and smile as he steps inside and jabs the button labelled
bar
.

With Janie being so sozzled, we have spent the entire evening making sure that she didn’t offend anyone with her drunken ramblings. From brandy and vodka to gin and bourbon, I am pretty sure she has made her way through the entire bar menu. Babysitting a bold sixty something as well as a grumpy two-year-old is
not
easy. I think a quiet drink alone is well deserved, even if I do say so myself. The lift doors ping open and we step out into the reception hall. Clocking Brittany behind the check-in desk, I flash her a smile and the thumbs up sign.

‘Is she OK?’ She asks, tossing her shiny brown hair over her shoulder.

‘She is, thanks for asking. We’ve put her to bed.’ Rolling my eyes, I let out a little laugh as Brittany chuckles into her white collar.

Thank goodness she saw the funny side! A lot of other hotel workers would have probably thrown us out. After all, not everyone finds the sight of a befuddled grandmother hilarious.

‘She did seem to be
really
enjoying those cocktails…’ Brittany winks and bats her unbelievably long eyelashes.

‘I think she enjoyed them a little
too
much.’ Oliver muses, pushing the pram towards the bar.

‘Have a great evening and make sure you come see me tomorrow for the park tickets!’ Turning her attention to a waiting customer, she gives us a wave and gets back to her work.

I must remember to mention Brittany on our hotel feedback form. She is easily the friendliest, most helpful member of staff I have ever encountered. I’ve already passed on my comments to her manager, but isn’t it rare these days that you find someone who actually
loves
doing their job? Those people whose passion just shines out of them like a beacon?

‘Isn’t Brittany lovely?’ I gush, taking a seat in a booth at the back of the room.

‘Yeah, she’s great.’ Strumming his fingers on the table, he pushes the drinks menu towards me. ‘What do you want?’

‘Surprise me.’ Pushing it back towards him, I smile brightly as he orders two Amaretto Sours with the waiter.

A few people stop to coo over Noah, who is snoozing lightly in the comfort of his pram. Before we had Noah, we used to take moments like this for granted. You know, those precious few minutes of alone time where the only things you have to worry about are each other. Reaching over the table, I entwine my fingers with his and let out a yawn. An afternoon of walking around an amusement park in the intense heat has really taken it out of me. I don’t really know why. All I have done is wait with Noah whilst Oliver and Janie battle it out for the title of Rollercoaster King. To be honest, condom incident aside, I have actually had a lot of fun today. Watching Janie’s beehive become more and more erratic with each ride that she went on has been entertainment in itself.

The waiter reappears with two elaborate looking cocktail glasses and I lick my lips greedily.

‘Just so you know, our special tonight is a strawberry mojito.’ With a quick nod of the head, he leaves a bowl of nuts on the table and scoots back to the bar.

I shudder at the word
strawberry
and wonder if it would be weird for me to tell Oliver about condom-gate.

‘I could inhale a strawberry mojito right now…’ Gulping down his drink, he motions to the waiter that we will take two of the specials.

Oh, God! Alright. I’m just going to have to say it.

Running my fingers through my crazy curls, I try to keep a nonchalant tone to my voice. ‘You know when you went on that ride earlier? The very first one?’

He looks up at the ceiling as he recalls the name of the ride. ‘Serpent’s Slave?’

I nod my head and stir my straw idly around the glass. ‘Well, I borrowed some money from your mum’s purse to buy Noah an ice-cream and she had some pretty
weird
stuff in there…’

Shooting me a puzzled stare, he leans into the pram to check on Noah. ‘What kind of weird?’

I look down into my cocktail and rack my brains for a way to tell him that his mother carries more condoms than a brothel in her handbag. Maybe I should just keep it to myself. I mean, what man wants to hear that about his own mum? Having second thoughts, I open my mouth in an attempt to change the subject, but Oliver beats me to it.

‘Clara? What kind of weird?’ Oliver lets out a little laugh, but I can tell from the expression on his face that he is feeling uneasy.

Suddenly feeling frozen to the spot, I try to think of something to say to steer the conversation in another direction. Anything. Think, Clara! Think!

‘Believe me, nothing you say could surprise me.’

I doubt that very much. Deciding just to come out with it, I take a deep breath and attempt to keep my face straight. ‘Well, she had a ton of Xanax, enough anti-aging pills to smooth out E.T and…’

‘And?’ He prompts, obviously tiring of this game.

‘And… a jumbo pack of strawberry condoms.’

Right on cue, the waiter returns and places two neon pink drinks down in front us.

‘Two s
trawberry
mojitos, enjoy!’

Laughter starts to bubble in the pit of my stomach and no matter how hard I try, I can’t stop it from escaping my lips. Unfortunately, Oliver doesn’t crack a smile.

‘What the hell are you talking about?’ Furrowing his brow, he pushes the mojito away.

‘I’m being serious!’ Desperately trying to control my laughter, I will him to see the funny side. ‘I just thought it was weird, that’s the only reason I am telling you about it.’

Refusing to look at me, he flips open his mobile phone as his cheeks colour up. Not being able to resist probing the subject further, I take a sip of my drink and lean back in my seat.

‘Don’t
you
think it’s weird?’ I choose my words carefully, making sure that I don’t erupt into a fit of giggles.

‘Jeez, Clara!’ Shooting me a glare, he bangs his hand down on the table. ‘Yeah, I think it’s weird! How could it
not
be weird?’

‘But
why
does she have them? You don’t just carry a hundred condoms in your handbag for the sake of it! Especially married women of your mum’s age…’

An unreadable expression appears on his face as he studies me carefully. ‘What are you saying?’

‘I’m not
saying
anything!’ Suddenly feeling a little defensive, I start to regret even bringing it up. ‘I just thought it was weird!’

We both sit there in complete silence, neither of us wanting to address the elephant in the room. A waitress drops a glass behind the bar, causing Noah to start whining in his pram. Sliding out of the booth, I push the pram back and forth for a while, slowly realising that that he isn’t going to settle.

‘We should probably take him up to the room.’ I sigh, resorting to picking him up and holding him on my hip.

Finishing the last of his drink, Oliver throws down some cash and takes control of the pram. Following him out of the bar, I have a quick scan of the reception area for Brittany. Not seeing her familiar mop of hair, we are about to step inside the lift when a tiny voice grabs my attention.

‘Mrs Morgan?’

Spinning around to see a tall girl with a blonde bob running across the foyer, I pull Oliver aside and let another couple take the lift.

‘Your suitcases have arrived from the airport.’ Handing me a small ticket, she flashes me a grin and points at an elderly man behind the desk. ‘Robert has taken them up to your room for you.’

‘Brilliant!’ After the shock of discovering Janie’s condom stash earlier, I had totally forgotten about our missing cases. ‘That really is fantastic. Thank you so much.’

Looking up at Oliver happily, I slip the ticket into my pocket and step into the adjacent lift. Finally!
Finally
I can get my make-up bag back and start to look alive again. Lianna might be able to rock the au naturel look, but without my Touché Éclat and lengthening mascara, I always get those -
Are you sick? You look a little different, but I can’t quite put my finger on it
comments that make my blood boil.

Quickly stripping Noah of his shorts and t-shirt, I hand him over to Oliver for a bedtime story.

‘My case!’ I squeal, running over to the fluorescent pink suitcase and throwing my arms around it. ‘Oh, how I have missed you.’

Dragging it onto the bed I fumble with the lock until it springs open, revealing all my precious belongings. Designer dresses, stunning swimsuits and spectacular sandals spill out onto the sheets. Resisting the temptation to dive onto the bed and roll around in them, I perch on the edge and run my fingers over the soft fabrics. Making a mental promise to myself to never take them for granted
ever
again, I arrange them neatly in the wardrobe before setting out my cosmetics on the dresser.

Wandering over to the window, I hold back the curtain and watch the fireworks in the distance. Flashes of red, green and gold sparkle against the black backdrop, creating a dazzling rainbow for all the world to see. The bursts of colour are almost electrifying and I find myself mesmerised by the dancing collection of gems in the sky. Tearing myself away, I plop down onto the bed and flick through the pile of shiny pamphlets. From water parks and restaurants to museums and beaches. You could visit Florida for an entire month and still not manage to hit up every tourist spot.

‘Which one of these is on the agenda for tomorrow?’ I ask Oliver, who is stripping off his t-shirt and climbing into the shower.

‘Mom seemed pretty set on Magic Metropolis. I did suggest going there on Friday, but she was adamant that we went tomorrow.’

I hear the power shower turn on and water thrash down onto the tiles. A mischievous part of me wants to go in and join him, but I can tell from his tone of voice that the whole condom saga is still bothering him. Deciding to leave him alone for a while, I climb into bed and snuggle into the soft sheets. All this walking has left me feeling like I’ve been attending a high impact gym glass. My calves are aching and the balls of my feet feel like fire. I can see us needing another holiday just to get over this one.

My eyes suddenly start to feel unbelievably heavy and it isn’t long before I start to give in to the inevitable. The chatter on the television blurs into muffles as I allow myself to fall into a much needed sleep. It’s not long before I’m lost in an all American dream world. Fast food, theme parks and in-law mishaps. What more could you possibly want from a holiday?