Shopaholic to the Rescue (7 page)

“But she’s so worried! We’re all worried. You know Bryce is trying to brainwash you? He’s dangerous, Tarkie. He wants your money. You haven’t given him any, have you? Because don’t, OK?”

“Of course he wants my money.” Tarquin sounds so matter-of-fact, the wind is taken out of my sails. “Asks me about it every five minutes. Not very subtle either. I’m not giving it to him, though.”

“Thank God!” I exhale. “Well, don’t.”

“I’m not a
total
chump, you know, Becky.”

“Oh,” I say feebly.

“Chap like Bryce, you just have to keep your wits about you.”

“Right.”

I’m feeling totally confused right now. Tarkie sounds so together. I thought he’d been having a nervous breakdown.

But then, what was that whole act in L.A. about? I can still picture him, sitting at the table in our house, glowering at everyone, telling Suze she was toxic.

“Becky, I have to go,” Tarquin’s saying. “I’ll put your father back on.”

“No, don’t go!” I cry, but it’s too late.

“Becky?” My dad’s back on the line and I quickly draw breath.

“Dad, listen. Please. I don’t know what you’re up to, and if you don’t want me to know, that’s fine. But you
can’t
leave Mum in the lurch like this. Are you anywhere near Las Vegas? Because if you’ve ever loved us and you have any time at all, meet us there. Just so we can see you for a couple of minutes. Just so we know you’re OK. And then go off on your mission. Please, Dad. Please.”

There’s a long silence. I can
feel
Dad’s unwillingness seeping down the phone.

“I’m a fair way away,” he says at last.

“Then we’ll come to you! Give me an address!”

“No,” says Dad. “No, let’s not do that.”

There’s another silence, and I hold my breath.

The thing about my dad is, he’s actually a very reasonable man. I mean, he was in insurance.

“All right,” he says at last. “I’ll have a quick breakfast with you tomorrow in Las Vegas. Then you can all relax and go back to L.A. and leave me in peace. But no questions.”

“Absolutely,” I say hastily. “No questions.”

I am
so
going to ask questions. I’ll start a list straightaway.

“Where shall we meet?”

“Er…”

My knowledge of Las Vegas is fairly limited. In fact, it basically consists of watching
Ocean’s Eleven
about a thousand times.

“The Bellagio,” I say. “Breakfast at the Bellagio, nine
A.M
.”

“Good. See you there.”

And I wasn’t going to ask anything else, because clearly he doesn’t want me to know, but I can’t help myself, so I blurt out: “Dad, why didn’t you want to call me Rebecca?”

There’s another prickly silence, and I hold my breath. I know Dad’s still on the line. He’s on the line and he’s not saying anything….

And then he’s rung off.

I immediately press C
ALL
R
ETURN
but it goes straight to voicemail. I try Tarkie’s phone, but the same thing happens. They must have switched them both off.

“Well done!” says Luke as I finally raise my head. “You should be a hostage negotiator! Do I take it we have a breakfast appointment with the runaways?”

“Apparently so,” I say, blinking at him. I feel a bit dazed. After all the stressing and worrying, it turns out Dad and Tarkie are both fine. Not at the bottom of a ravine.

“Relax, Becky!” Luke puts his hands on my shoulders. “This is good news! We’ve found them!”

“Yes!” And at last I feel a smile starting to spread across my face. “We have! We’ve found them. Let’s tell Mum and Suze!”

—

Well, honestly. I thought it was the bearers of
bad
news who were supposed to be given a hard time. There I was, imagining Mum and Suze would gasp and cheer and congratulate me on having pinned Dad down to breakfast in Las Vegas. There I was, hoping for a group hug. I must have been deluded.

Neither Mum nor Suze looks any cheerier for the news that their beloved husbands are alive and well. There was a brief flicker of delight, and Suze breathed, “Thank God.” But now both of them are back on their grievances.

Mum’s line is: “Why doesn’t my own husband trust me?” At least, it’s a kind of duet, with Janice taking the lines: “I know, Jane,” and “You’re so right, Jane,” and “Jane, dear, have some M&M’s.” Mum’s basic argument is that any husband who goes off with secrets is disrespectful and he’s a grown man and who does he think he is, Kojak?

(I’m not sure how Kojak comes into it. In fact, I’m not sure who Kojak is. Someone off the telly, I think.)

Meanwhile, Suze’s complaint is: Why didn’t Tarkie want to talk to
her
? She’s tried Tarkie’s number about ninety-five times, and each time it goes to voicemail and she darts me a resentful look, as though it’s
my
fault. As we approach the looming skyline of Las Vegas, she’s chewing her fingers and staring out of the window.

“Suze?” I say cautiously.

“Yes?” She turns her head impatiently, as though I’ve distracted her from something really important.

“Isn’t it great? Tarkie’s fine!”

Suze looks blank, as though she doesn’t even understand what I’m saying.

“I mean, you can stop worrying,” I persist. “It must be such a relief.”

A pained expression comes over Suze’s face, as though I’m too stupid to realize the truth.

“Not till I
see
him,” she insists. “Not till I see for myself. I still think Bryce has got to him. He’s messed with his head somehow.”

“He sounded OK to me,” I say encouragingly. “He wouldn’t want to have breakfast with us if he’d been brainwashed, would he? I mean, isn’t it all good news?”

“Bex, you just don’t get it,” says Suze aggressively, and at once Alicia puts her hand on Suze’s as though
she
gets it because she’s a better friend than I am.

My heart sinks, and I pull Minnie onto my lap for comfort.

“Stop fretting?” Mum is muttering murderously to Janice. “I’ll give Graham something to fret about. Have I ever kept any secrets from him?”

“There was the sun bed in our garage,” points out Janice.

“That was
different,
Janice.” Mum nearly bites her head off. “What Graham’s doing right now, it’s shifty.”

“It’s not like Graham,” agrees Janice sorrowfully, and she has a point. It’s not that my mum and dad haven’t had their ups and downs, discoveries and moments of drama. But I never remember him being secretive like this before, especially toward Mum.

“Where are we going to stay in Las Vegas?” I ask hastily, to change the subject. “
Not
in an RV park.”

“No, no,” says Luke from the driver’s seat. “We’ll park the RV and check in to a hotel.”

And despite everything, I feel a flicker of anticipation. I’ve never been to Las Vegas before in my life. Maybe, now we know that Dad and Tarkie are safe, we can unwind a little?

“You need to relax, Jane,” says Janice, as though reading my mind. “Maybe we’ll book some spa treatments.”

“Isn’t there a hotel with a circus?” Mum seems a bit mollified. “I wouldn’t mind seeing a circus.”

“Or the Venetian?” I suggest. “We could go on the gondolas.”

“There’s the Egyptian one….” Janice is scrolling on her phone. “The MGM Grand…And we should pop into Caesars Palace. Fabulous shopping, Becky.”

“Elton John,” chimes in Mum suddenly. “Is he still in Las Vegas?”

“Elton John?” interrupts Suze shrilly, and we all jump. “
Gondolas?
How can you all talk about Elton John and gondolas and Caesars Palace? This isn’t some little vacation we’re on! We’re not here to
enjoy ourselves
!”

Her eyes glitter accusingly at us, and we all blink back in shock.

“OK,” I say cautiously. “Well, let’s just check in to a hotel and take it from there.”

“Not one of the ghastly theme hotels,” says Alicia, wrinkling her lip in a sneer. “I think we should find a non-theme hotel. Something conservative and businesslike.”

I stare at her in astonishment. Conservative? Businesslike? In
Las Vegas
? OK, first of all, my mum seriously needs to be distracted from her stress, not sit in some boring, businesslike room, looking at the PowerPoint facilities. And secondly, I want Minnie to have some fun. She deserves it.

“I expect we’ll have to stay wherever we can get rooms,” I say quickly. “Tell you what, I don’t mind making the calls.”

—

“Sorry,” I say to Suze yet again. “I know you wanted to stay somewhere businesslike.”

Suze darts me a suspicious look, and I arrange my features into an expression of regret, even though inside I’m saying,
Oh my Gooooood.

We’re standing in the lobby of the Venetian hotel, and it’s the craziest place I’ve ever been. There’s a gigantic ornate dome above us, lined with what look like paintings by Venetian masters. (Maybe just a bit more lurid.) There’s a fountain with a fantastic golden globe sculpture. A man in a red neckerchief is playing the accordion. I feel like we’re already at a tourist attraction, and we haven’t even left the lobby!

Luke returns from the desk, where he’s been checking us in. “Here we are,” he says, waving a stack of room keys. “I couldn’t get all adjoining, but at least we’re all in. And there’s a promotion going on today, so we got a freebie,” he adds, brandishing the other hand. “Complimentary chips for the casino.”

The chips come in a paper roll, like sweeties, and they look so
cute
. Except they should put mottos on them, like love hearts. If I opened a casino, all my chips would say
Good luck!
and
Try again!

“Complimentary chips? Typical.” Alicia makes a little moue of revulsion. “Well, you can have mine.”

Honestly. We’re in Las Vegas. You have to gamble in Las Vegas, surely. I’ve never gambled before, but I’m sure I can pick it up easily enough.

“So, let’s make a plan,” says Luke, shepherding us toward where Mum and Janice have plonked themselves on their suitcases with Minnie.

“I like it.” Minnie stretches out her chubby little hands toward the casino chips. “Dolly plate, pleeeeease?”

She thinks it’s a dolly plate. That is so sweet.

“Here you are, darling,” I say, taking a chip from Luke and giving it to her. “You can hold the dolly plate, but
don’t
put it in your mouth.”

I look up to see Suze regarding me, aghast. “You’re giving Minnie
gambling chips
to play with?” she says.

What?

“Er…Minnie has no idea what it is,” I say carefully. “She’s using it as a dolly plate.”

“Still.” Suze shakes her head, as if I’ve broken some fundamental parenting rule. She glances at Alicia, who is looking equally disapproving.

“It’s a piece of plastic!” I say in disbelief. “In a casino, yes, it’s a gambling chip, but right now, in Minnie’s hand, it’s a dolly plate! What, you think I’m going to let her
gamble
?”

I don’t understand Suze anymore. To my horror, my eyes have filled with tears, and I turn away. How can she be like this? She barely meets my eye. She never jokes around with me.

It’s Alicia, I think morosely. Alicia Bitch Long-legs has corrupted Suze. I mean, Alicia never had any sense of humor—but at least we
knew
that. We knew what Alicia was, and we hated her. Now she’s all softly-softly, friendly-friendly on the outside, and Suze has been totally fooled. But the kernel of her is still the same as it ever was. Cold. Humorless. Judgy. And she’s infecting my best friend.

I’m so lost in my miserable thoughts, it takes me a moment to realize that my phone has just beeped with a text.

On way!!! Will arrive las vegas later today!!! kisses danny

Danny! I feel a swell of relief. Danny will make me laugh again. Danny will make everything better.

Danny Kovitz is my famous fashion designer friend, and he’s a total star. The minute he heard Suze was in trouble, he promised to fly out, commandeer his whole staff, whatever it took. He’s really fond of Tarkie too, so of course he wanted to help. (Well, actually, he fancies Tarkie rotten. But that’s not something to mention to Suze.)

“Danny’s nearly here!” I tell Suze. “We can all meet up, have a nice dinner, relax….”

I’m desperately trying to inject a bit of positivity into Suze, but it’s like trying to soften a brick wall.

“I can’t
relax,
Bex,” she practically spits. “I need to see Tarkie in the flesh. I need to know he’s away from that…character.”

“Listen, Suze,” I say gently. “I know you’re still worried, but you should try to take your mind off things. I’m planning to take Minnie to the shark aquarium. D’you want to come too?”

“I don’t think so.” Suze gives a dismissive shake of the head.

“But you need to do something—”

“I am going to do something. Alicia and I are going to try to find a yoga class. Do some emails, have an early night.”

I stare at her, trying to conceal my shock.
Emails?
Early night?

“But we’re in Las Vegas! I thought we could go and watch the fountains at the Bellagio and then have a drink….” I trail off at Suze’s forbidding expression.

“I’m not into touristy gimmicks,” she says disdainfully, and Alicia nods in agreement.

I feel a dart of hurt. Since when? She was totally into touristy gimmicks when we went to Seville that time and bought flamenco dresses and wore them out to supper and kept saying “Olé!” to each other. We couldn’t stop laughing. It was one of the best nights of my life. In fact, Suze was the one who had the idea to wear the dresses, now I come to think of it.
And
she bought a guitar with ribbons on it. How touristy is that?

“Suze, come and see the Bellagio fountains at least,” I say entreatingly. “They’re not gimmicky, they’re iconic. Don’t you remember when we went to see
Ocean’s Eleven
for the first time and we made a pact to go to Las Vegas one day?”

Suze shrugs blankly, checking her phone as though she has no interest in anything I have to say, and I feel the tears threatening again.