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Naomi POV
The door slammed behind me as I raced through the bedroom, pulling last nights clothes from my body. The trail of garments that landed haphazardly on the floor, led to the one destination at the forefront of my mind. I had never been more relieved to see a cracked mirror in my entire life. This was my personal space, my bathroom, even if it would only be for the next couple of days.
I welcomed the blast of hot water that bounced off my skin, gradually turning it a light shade of pink. Showers were usually my escape. They always had the ability to make me feel a thousand times better, as though my troubles were literally being washed away. This time it would take more than just a simple shower. I was married. Married. Naomi Campbell doesn't do married. I also never referred to myself in the third person, but there I was. I was changing and it was all down to my wife. My wife whose name I couldn't fucking remember.
I lathered myself up into a frenzy, scrubbing at my skin until it was red raw. The more I thought of the situation the harder I scrubbed and my hair wasn't exempt from that. I was frantic as I roughly massaged my hair with the hotel's complimentary shampoo, the smell of coconut taking over my senses. My fingers caught on something mid-scrub, dangling from my neck. It was impossible to unfasten the necklace due to the slipperiness of my fingers thanks to the water that was starting to decrease in temperature. I pulled the ring up as close to my eye line that the chain would allow, and I studied it intently. It really was a beautiful ring. Made from white gold, it had an inscription on the inside. I had to squint my eyes to see the tiny script writing. From what I could see it said "Everything Once," but I couldn't be sure. One thing was for certain, I had definitely got the better deal out of the two of us as far as the rings were concerned.
Reluctantly, I turned the shower off and wrapped myself in one of the fluffy towels that had been left by the cleaner. It looked as though she'd already visited the room. Well she must have because I definitely hadn't made my bed yesterday unless…no, surely not. I shook the mental image of Cook and Katie using my bed for their late night activities straight out of my head. I know I had used Cook's bed but to be fair he'd fucking love assuming that two women had sex in his bed. Plus Cook never made his own bed let alone someone else's, so I assumed, or rather hoped, it was the cleaner.
A glance at the clock on the bedside table told me that I'd wasted thirty minutes in the shower. My mum, the old hippy, would have had a fit if she'd known I'd wasted that much water when I should be protecting the environment. Normally I would agree with her but I was definitely making an exception.
I made a conscious effort to cover up the marks that had accumulated on my neck - a result of our night of marriage consummation, which I couldn't for the life of me recall. Had I enjoyed it? Did I return the favour? I'd never had sex with a girl before in my life, so I was hoping that in my intoxicated state I hadn't touched her intimately. I would have questioned my abilities to pleasure her had I been sober, but being drunk…heaven knows the damage I could have done. I had so many questions that I didn't know if I wanted the answers to.
Leaving my room, I noticed that the corridors were starting to become a lot more lively. The occasional cleaner would pass by me, but more often than not, there would be a staggering drunk, walking past mumbling to themselves with the smell of stale whiskey emanating from their bodies. The scruffy attire that the drunks were wearing clearly meant that they had only just finished their drinking session, presumably started from the night before.
As I got closer and closer to the breakfast hall, my nerves started to increase in velocity. I wasn't ashamed to admit that seeing my wife again was fucking nerve wracking, but even more nerve wracking was the fact that I didn't have a clue as to what Katie and Cook's reaction to our news would be.
"There she is! There's Mrs. Fitch!" Cook hollered, causing several pairs of eyes to dart around, searching for the person Cook was pointing at. Why oh why did that person have to be me?
I mustered up the sweetest false smile that I could and politely asked my best friend if I could have a quiet word with him. I could feel the intensity in which brown eyes were staring at me as I dragged Cook away from the table. So as not to arouse suspicion, I grabbed us two plates and forcefully thrust one of them into Cook's chest, causing him to wince slightly and rub the affected area.
"Whoa, easy there Blondie."
"Fill up your plate Cook," I said, deciding on which food to pile up my plate with. Food that probably wouldn't get eaten. Yet another source of complaint for Gina Campbell.
"But I've already eaten."
"Just fucking do it."
As if sensing the dangerous tone to my voice, Cook complied and casually slipped two rashers of bacon onto his plate, before offering me some. He filled his plate with the usual ingredients you'd find in a Full English breakfast and then swapped his plate for my empty one and performed the same ritual.
"What the fuck's wrong with you?"
"I can't believe you have the audacity to ask me that," I hissed and by doing so, gaining the attention of a few of the guests, the twins thankfully not included. I dragged him away from the counter, ignoring his protests, and stood in the corner of the room, safely away from eavesdroppers.
"I got married last night in case it escaped your notice."
"I know," he chuckled, much to my annoyance. "It's fucking top mate."
"No its not 'fucking top'," I mocked. "And it's all your fault."
"Lighten up Naomikins. How was the consummation anyway?" he waggled his eyebrows in typical Cook style, instantly turning the conversation from serious to smutty in the space of a few seconds.
"And what makes you think anything happened?" I replied indignantly, self consciously pulling the top of my hoody up slightly in attempt to cover any marks that I had missed. Cook started laughing manically and I prayed to whoever was up there, that I didn't offer to film it for him or even worse, invite him and Katie to watch.
"Well?" I prompted, folding my arms and raising my eyebrows for effect.
"You mean apart from these that you've been trying to hide?" I blushed and swatted Cooks finger away from my neck, continuing to glare at him. He raised his hands slightly in defeat and sighed, shaking his head in false annoyance.
"You need to invest in better make up."
"Be serious Cook," I pleaded with him. "I got absolutely wasted last night, got married, had sex with a woman for the first time and to top it all off, I can't even remember her name. Are you even fucking listening to me?"
I snapped, swatting him around the head forcing him to tear away his eyes from Katie who was giggling and waving to him. She frowned slightly when he was forced to divert his attention away from her and onto me.
"Ow, fucks sake. You're not the only one who is hungover. So you can't remember her name? Just fucking ask her. Talk to her. It's about time you let someone in here," he finished, pointing a finger to my chest.
"Cook, wait. Cook!"
His arm slipped out of my grasp and he grabbed his plate, walking back to the table. Katie's eyes kept flitting between myself and Cook, even though I was still stood partially hidden by the pillar. What I thought to be a mischievous grin appeared on her face before her twin nudged her and shook her head, glancing over towards me before focussing back on her plate. I knew she wasn't really interested in what was on it. She was unenthusiastically pushing her beans around the plate with her fork and shrugging as Cook grabbed the last of her sausage. I retreated to behind the pillar and closed my eyes, taking a deep breath, repetitively telling myself that I could go over there. I appeared from behind the shadows and took my seat at the table. The sound of cutlery scraping against the ceramic plates was the only thing distracting me from my dilemma. It was obvious that none of us knew what to say, so I decided that I should be the one to break the silence, seeing as they all seemed to be getting along quite well before I graced them with my presence.
"So, Katie," I started, ignoring her look of surprise as I addressed her. "Are you close, you and…" I flicked my fork rudely in between the twins, hoping that Katie would fill in the missing name. She didn't. "You and your sister?"
I didn't get the honour of receiving an answer, instead I had a strange look thrown my way. Emily was still focussed on her plate, her fork now playing with the scrambled egg. I was broken from my observation by Cook guffawing at my predicament. He gained a nudge in his ribs and an icy stare for his troubles.
"Did you ever trick people when you were younger and you know, con them into thinking you were each other?"
"Quite a few times actually," Katie smirked, glancing at her twin who caught her eye and shook her head, seemingly in disgust.
"See that's funny," I feigned a laugh, probably looking like a twat in the process before turning towards the silent twin. "I couldn't imagine Katie as you and you as…" I trailed off as I popped some scrambled egg into my mouth. "As her."
Katie and Cook burst into laughter simultaneously, but they weren't joined in by my wife. She was looking very solemn-faced and frightened the lot of us when she suddenly slammed her hands down onto the table, the cutlery and plates rattling in the process.
"Enough," she snapped at the two of them. "It's Emily, my name. These two thought it would be funny to see how long it would take you to remember."
"Excuse me," I stuttered, scraping my chair against the floor and walking as fast as my legs would carry me. I ignored Cook's cries of my name and didn't stop until I was outside the hotel. I had to use my hand to give my eyes access to some form of shade whilst they adjusted to the light. That was a good thing about being in Vegas. The weather didn't disappoint unlike England where it could be sunny one minute and a downpour of rain the next. I could have gotten used to it.
I ambled over to one of the palm trees that was surrounding the entrance, leaning my back against it and tucking one leg up. I closed my eyes and tilted my head back. I was grateful for the fresh air, inhaling a deep breath into my lungs before they could be damaged even further by my nicotine fix. I'd promised myself that I was going to give up but I always kept an emergency supply on my person. Lighting the fag was more difficult due to the slight shaking of my fingers. What made it even more difficult was the lack of fluid left in the damn thing. I shook it repeatedly as though doing so would cause it to ignite the cigarette.
"Oh fuck off," I shouted in frustration, throwing the lighter towards the bin. My aim missed completely and instead it landed on the tarmac of the car park where it was destroyed by a passing car. The tiny prickling of tears started behind my eyes. I closed them immediately, unwilling to let them fall. The tears obviously weren't for the loss of my lighter, but were for the humiliation I felt. I would usually take Cook's jesting quite well, but not when I was in a hungover state and I had already been feeling like a complete tool. I felt as though I was losing control of everything for the first time in my life.
I heard the door open and hastily wiped at the tears that had managed to escape, with my thumb, desperate to hide my anguish from whoever was approaching me. Old habits die hard. I quickly placed the cigarette back into my mouth and pretended to search my pockets for a lighter.
A pair of warm hands gripped onto my own and then allowed them to drop down to my sides. The hands then stole my cigarette, before placing it back into my mouth, fully lit. I smiled in gratitude and took a welcoming inhale of the nicotine.
"You okay?"
I chose not to answer verbally, instead shaking my head before raising it to watch the smoke rings that I was blowing, rise up and disappear into nothingness. What I wouldn't give to be that smoke.
"Cook wanted to come after you but I convinced him not to. I worried you'd kill him and I don't want a wife for a convict."
I let out a small laugh despite myself, and glanced at Emily. She caught my eye and grinned back. If Emily noticed the blotchiness on my face, a tell tale sign that I had been crying, she didn't acknowledge it for which I was very grateful.
"So," she said, after lighting her own cigarette and taking a deep toke, as I had moments before. "Right mess we're in here, eh?"
"You're not kidding," I chuckled. "I'm sorry for not remembering your name, or anything else for that matter."
She smiled weakly and shrugged her shoulders, "It's fine."
It wasn't said in a spiteful way, it was just simply a statement. She really was a remarkable person. I know that if it was the other way around and Emily was in my position and I in hers, I wouldn't be quite as patient. Then again, if I had been in her position, we probably wouldn't have been in this situation in the first place.
The minutes passed in silence, Emily perched on the rock next to the palm tree I was still leaning on, just puffing away on our cancer sticks, both lost in our own thoughts. A limousine approached the hotel, eventually coming to a stop and parking by the entrance. Several other cars pulled up nearby, camera's flashing as the person exited the vehicle, being accompanied by what I assumed to be body guards. Her sunglasses were shielding her eyes as the bodyguards ushered her inside away from the flashing bulbs telling me that they were paparazzi.
"Wow, who knew this was a place for celebrities?" I commented.
Emily pushed herself to her feet and stubbed out her cigarette onto the top of the bin. She seemed rather uncomfortable by the scene unfolding in front of us.
"Yeah well, maybe she wanted to escape for a bit. Probably her way of escaping the usual celebrity haunts."
Something akin to sadness resided in her eyes, and I didn't like it, nor did I understand the reasoning behind it.
"Anyway," she shrugged herself out of her day dream. "Last night aside, how are you enjoying Vegas?"
"Honestly? It's nothing like I expected," I sighed, disappointment clearly laced with my tone.
"How come?"
"I've been saving up for fucking ages for this trip. Since I was 15 in fact and Cook and I agreed to come here when we were 21. We're here, in this amazing place," I continued. "And all Cook wants to do is drink."
"And is that not what you want?" she continued when I shook my head. "Well it's funny but judging by your behaviour last night you wouldn't think so."
I frowned and opened my mouth to retaliate when I stopped myself. The cheeriness was back in her eyes and if teasing me was what it took to see her smile again then so be it.
"Fuck off," I shoved her shoulder playfully. "It's not that I don't enjoy drinking obviously. Its just, I hoped that Cook would be more…adventurous I guess. I just wanted to see more of this place. I envisioned us going to see the Grand Canyon or trying out the Cloud Nine Balloon experience. I thought we'd do stuff like that during the day and spend the night drinking. Not drinking and gambling during the day as well. I'll go skint because incase you hadn't noticed, I'm rubbish at gambling," I added, referring to the poker game that we'd lost.
"How long are you here for?"
"Let me think a minute," I said, amusing Emily no end. What with Cook and I drinking non-stop since we'd arrived, I had lost track of the days. "Erm, we're here for four days so I think that makes it 2 days that we have left."
"That's perfect," she said, zipping up the front of her jacket. "I'm here until Monday too," she added, noticing my questioning look.
"Erm, great?" I said rather pathetically, unsure of how she wanted me to react.
She smirked and moved to stand in front of me, placing her hands in the pockets of her thin jacket. "It's perfect because we're going to spend our last couple of days doing exactly what you want. I think Cook's going to be a bit preoccupied with my sister. Meet me back here in an hour, okay?"
She strutted off back inside the hotel before I had a chance to even reply, or at least mildly protest. A couple of minutes and a second smoke later, I copied Emily and headed back inside. Fuck it. What could I possibly lose?