have you been? What’s this about you still getting married? Why haven’t you been returning any of my messages? Do you know how you’ve made me feel?”
She sits down on the nearest step and listens to the response from the other end of the line. I’d bet my Louboutins that she’s talking to Rivers. Whatever he’s saying appears to be placating her. I can see that she’s nodding her head and making noises of assent.
“I know, it’s just so frustrating. And you promise you were going to call anyway? Mmm hmm. You too baby”
I’ve heard enough. I rush out of my hiding place and back up to my room as fast as I can. I get under the covers and shut my eyes tight. Before I know it, the surge of adrenaline that was with me moments ago has gone and I fall into a deep, troubled sleep.
Chapter Twenty Five
Saturday morning brings glorious sunshine. I’m woken by a call from reception informing me that it’s ten thirty AM and I was supposed to be with the bridal party for breakfast at eight. Shit. I mutter my apologies and she informs me that some food will be with me shortly.
It takes me a few moments to remember what happened last night and I realise, that in all likelihood, Serena knows that I’m on to her and still wants to be with Rivers. Seeing as it’s her wedding day, I’m not entirely sure which one is worse.
I reach for my alarm clock and see that the alarm is not switched on. That’s odd, I could have sworn that I did that as soon as I brought my stuff to the room yesterday evening. There’s a knock at the door so I scramble out of bed and open the door. A member of staff brings in a tray. She places it on the table at the end of the bed.
“There you go, special order from the bride! She wants to see you in her suite when you’re done and between you and me she’s not particularly impressed that you’re so late!”
She turns and leaves and I pounce on the tray with energy not normally seen after so little sleep. I’m famished having missed dinner last night. I pull off the silver dome covering the plate and gaze in horror at the plate underneath. Instead of the anticipated full English, or Eggs Benedict, there is half a grapefruit. That’s it. No toast, no cereal, half a measly grapefruit. Sod this.
Ten minutes later, I’ve depleted the contents of the mini-bar and thrown in a bloody Mary for good measure. I feel quite ill now; I’m not sure that a can of Pringles, two Toblerones and peanut M&M’s are a balanced breakfast, but they sure have hit the spot. Riding my sugar high, still in my pajamas I head towards Serena’s suite and into what feels like a day of impending doom.
Her room looks like a tornado has been through it. The floor is covered with carrier bags, discarded clothes and various beauty tools. Serena’s mum appears to be having something close to a nervous breakdown in the corner and the other bridesmaids are sat having the final touches to their hair done. I can’t see Serena.
“Morning ladies!” I call, “Sorry I’m late!”
“Hi Lauren!” they chorus.
I’m hustled over into a nearby chair and a visibly annoyed waiting beautician starts to get to work on my makeup. I attempt to give her some direction as to how I fancy looking for the day, but it’s clear she is paying absolutely no attention to me. I can feel her applying layers of eye shadow to my lids in copious amounts although I have no idea what colour she’s picked. I send up a mental prayer that it’s something quite nude that won’t make me look like I’ve escaped from a brothel.
Out of the corner of one heavily made-up eye I spot Serena join the group from her bathroom. Her hair and makeup look immaculate, but there is a slight greenish tinge to her face that her foundation has failed to cover.
I can feel that someone has started to comb my hair and made a start on teasing it in to the requisite up-do. I keep my eyes shut, anxious not to provoke any interaction with Serena. I think that my plan has worked as I can hear her talking to Marsha behind me about her ‘inappropriate’ choice of coral nail polish.