LA to The Bay

Chapter 33: Las Vegas (4)

Motel Hell, Las Vegas

The door flings open and I scream. I'm sleeping and someone is in my room. It can't be Ana for she left hours ago, way more excited than necessary for a visit to a discount retail outlet, plus she wouldn't barge through the door in such a heavy handed way anyway.

Whoever it is, they clearly aren't breaking and entering because by making such a racket they obviously want me to acknowledge their presence, otherwise they would have at least tried to enter more stealthily.

If only I could summon the energy to break from my slumber and raise my face from its downward position in the pillow, to at least try and defend myself should it be required.

'What the hell are you doing here?' I yell at the image of Harry standing at the end of my bed. Seriously? A burglar would be preferable to his smug face staring down at me.

'Did you hear me, what do you want?'

I roll over and sit bolt upright, grabbing at the sheet to cover myself. But he is just standing there silent, like his words won't come out or something.

'You can't just barge in hear and then not say anything.' I yell again but he just looks at the floor awkwardly before running his hand through his hair and opens his mouth to speak.

'Whatever it is, save it.'

I decide that I don't actually want to hear whatever it is that he might be about to tell me, which is probably "you need to go and apologise to Lottie, she is still so upset." The idea of just saying it makes me see red, and he is more of a fool than I had first thought if he thinks that I am ever going to say sorry to Lottie.

'Just get out okay!' I lunge the pillow at him, whacking him on the arm.

'Ouch.' He shirks to the side in defence, holding on to his arm like I have actually hurt him. 'Nice g-string by the way.' He gives me a half grin, clearly in amusement, before leaving, slamming the door behind him.

What the hell? Nice g-string? I feel down to my underwear realising that I was sleeping face down and without a cover when he barged in uninvited, and my cheeks burn, a combination of anger and embarrassment that he has seen me like this, semi naked and in bed. I mean who in their right mind does that to someone, breaks in to someones room and just stands there staring, unless they are on a mission to get arrested? He's lucky I didn't jump him with my pepper spray, and what did he even want anyway? Surely he's not stupid enough to think I might actually apologise to Lottie? And what was with all the dumbstruck silence? If he's not careful I'll have to report him to Leah for harassment.

I slump back down on to the pillow before turning to look at the clock. 11.30am. Great, another lie-in ruined and all thanks to Harry deciding to be even more of a weirdo than normal.

'Ow.'

I wince as I feel that my feet are stinging as I place them on the floor as I struggle to get out of bed. The walk home last night; that's why they're hurting. After running out of Fremont Street I had set off marching with the insane idea of being able to walk back to the motel. I'm still not getting this whole America is bigger than England concept, because the road just went on for miles. It was nice and all, being able to cover the Strip, and I can actually say that I have seen Las Vegas now, but honestly did they need to make it about twenty miles long since it turns out "once you've seen one Casino you've seen them all", as Lottie would say.

Lottie; if it wasn't for her and her stupid joke wedding then I'd never have ended up trying to walk home, alone, through the middle of Las Vegas in a desperate bid to clear my head. If it wasn't for her I'd still be able to wear my highest stilettoes when we go out tonight but instead I'm probably going to have to resort to a pair of beige orthopedic slippers.

When we go out tonight. Ugh. We are supposed to be going to a club. It's supposed to be a big deal. This is supposed to be my moment to have some real fun on this trip; drinking and dancing and letting loose. But all I feel is depressed. Depressed because of last night and some more at the idea of this one. I'm like one big whirlpool of depression and the weight of it is spiralling down and down inside of me.

This isn't a holiday. I start to sob, the past weeks of exhaustion, embarrassment and humiliation finally coming out. What sort of person pays money to get up at 6.30 every morning and spend the next twenty hours hanging out with a bunch of moronic strangers for three weeks in a row? A lonely and desperate person, that's what. I sob again, now more of a wail, as the pain of this realisation stabs in to me. I am nothing but a lonely desperate loser sobbing alone in a grotty motel room in the backside of Las Vegas.

I need to get out of here, to leave the trip and save myself from the same embarrassment but just in another location. I need to book a flight home now, but how?

I scramble about the room like a dog on a rope with no direction, as I try to come up with a plan to get myself out of here.

'Mother!' I gasp in to the phone sitting on the bedside table, which I am now clutching, 'you've got to help me?' I pant.

'Whatever's the matter?' She sounds panicked. Of course she sounds panicked, her daughter is phoning her from America for the first time in weeks and I sound hysterical. I am hysterical.

'They're all laughing at me. I need to leave and come home.' I sob.

'Oh Niamh.' The tone of her voice tells me that there is to be little sympathy.

'But it's Lottie, she's determined to ruin this for me.' I weep.

'Not this again Niamh. I'm sure it's not as bad as you think. Are you still taking your tablets?'

'Is that all you care about? If I'm taking my tablets, so you don't have to deal with me.'

I had forgotten how selfish my mother is, what was I thinking by calling her? That she might actually help me?

'But it's eight pm here sweetheart. You know I don't like to talk to people after Eastenders has finished. It's my quiet time.'

'But I'm your daughter.' I can't believe she just used the Eastenders excuse on me. 'Don't you have any advice for me?'

'Go get your hair cut?' She chirps, like she just passed on her own mothers greatest pearls of wisdom.

'Go do what?' I can't believe that is the extent of her advice.

'Get you're haircut. It will cheer you up. And never mind what Lottie thinks, go find yourself a nice boy to distract you.'