Husbands by Adele Parks

Author:Adele Parks [Parks, Adele]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: cookie429, Kat, Extratorrents
Publisher: Penguin Publishing
Published: 2005-01-08T13:00:00+00:00

28. Can’t Help Falling in Love

Laura

Las Vegas is just as exciting, vibrant, glitzy, crazy and wonderful as I’d hoped and imagined it would be.

When we pass through the gates into the terminal we spot a guy holding a sign with Stevie’s name on it. The guy is dressed in an old-fashioned chauffeur’s suit, but his flat cap – a symbol of the deferential manners of times gone by – looks at odds with his trendy sunglasses and hip, long ponytail.

‘Hello, sir,’ he greets Stevie. ‘I am Adrian and I am delighted to be your chauffeur today. Sir, it is an honour to have such a talented man ride in my limousine. A real honour.’ He shakes Stevie’s hand vigorously. I am worried that it is his strumming hand and Adrian might inflict serious damage. ‘I love a winner, sir. I love that,’ Adrian assures Stevie in his lazy drawl.

‘I haven’t won yet, mate,’ says Stevie, who is clearly a bit embarrassed by the fuss his finalist status for the King of Kings competition is bringing him.

‘Sir, you’re a winner, I can feel it in my blood. Vegas is a city of winners,’ insists Adrian.

I feel it would be rude to point out the obvious – that Vegas has far more losers than winners numbering among its visitors and inhabitants and, as there are fifteen ‘Elvises’ competing, for fourteen of them, Vegas will be a city synonymous with losing after Saturday night. Still, I like the chauffeur’s confidence in Stevie and want to believe he really can spot a winner.

We sit in the back of the limo and drink fizzy wine that is not quite champagne; the not-quite status doesn’t bother anyone except Bella, who says she can’t drink so early in the day anyway, and couldn’t even if it had been Cristal. I know this is a lie but haven’t the heart to point as much out to her. Besides, I have no idea what time of day it is. Here in Las Vegas it may be two thirty in the afternoon, but back in London it’s about ten thirty at night. Surely, that means this is an acceptable time to have a drink.

As we drive I split my time between reading out bits from my guidebook and staring wide-eyed at the scenery. Not that I’m thinking about the arid landscape, spasmodically punctuated with billboards advertising the biggest, best or cheapest of something or other. Instead, I am falling into delicious daydreams about just how brill it is to be me.

The last six weeks have been a total shindig, completely golden. I’m so chuffed by the ease with which Stevie has glided into my life. When he and I are alone, or with Eddie, I find myself thinking lame-brained things like I’ve found my soulmate. I mean, that’s just plain dorkish, isn’t it? Soulmates. ‘The one.’ All that stuff. At my age I should know better. But that’s just it, I’ve never known better! He makes me feel as though I have infinite choices, unlimited possibilities.

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