Julia Williams - The Bridesmaid Pact

August 1996

Billy Idol was screaming out it was a nice day for a white wedding, which seemed appropriate in a bar in Las Vegas. I couldn’t resist the craving for the next drink, though I knew I needed it like a hole in the head.

‘Oi, Charlie boy, gezza ’nother drink.’ I was aware vaguely in some dim dark recess in my brain that I’d probably had enough and I was definitely slurring my words. The sensible thing would be to go to bed right now. Call it a day with these very nice and fun-loving work colleagues with whom I’d spent the last couple of days bonding in Las Vegas on the first solo photo shoot of my career as a make-up artist. But my sensible head never won over my drunken one.

‘What are you on again?’ Charlie looked in about as good shape as I was. He had wandered up to the bar. He turned to look at me as he said this, and leaned rather nonchalantly against the bar. He missed, narrowly avoiding smashing his chin before righting himself.

‘Vodka and coke,’ I said, giggling hysterically. Our companions, Charlie’s boss Finn, and Sal, the PA to the spoilt model whose photos we’d all been involved in taking for the past couple of days, were nuzzling up to each other in one of the deep-red heart-shaped sofas that littered the bar. It had not been a very well kept secret that they were shagging the pants off each other, despite Finn’s heavily pregnant wife at home. I wasn’t quite sure how I felt about that. I was no angel, it’s true, but shagging someone who was hitched with a baby on the way seemed like a complication too far to me. I wondered if he was worth it. Then, looking at his rugged, wrinkled face, I decided he wasn’t. Finn must be nearly twenty years older than Sal. What on earth did she see in him?

Now Charlie on the other hand…Over the last couple of days I’d decided he was a bit of all right. Tall, dark, conventionally good-looking with a fetching quiff that fell over his eye that he brushed off in a movement that I found at once attractive and endearing, Charlie was rather lovely. And might be just the thing to take my mind off the humiliation of Steve’s rejection.

I’d always known Steve would go for Sarah in the end, despite all his flirting. They always did. Her pretty girl-next-door good looks always won them over, even if they were initially attracted to my wildness. My spiky aggressiveness was in the main too much for most of the men I encountered. Far too toxic, as I’d been told on more than one occasion. They enjoyed the shag, but they never hung around long enough to keep their spare PJs in my cupboard.

When we’d met him out drinking in Soho, it was obvious that a cityboy slicker like him would go for Sarah, the safe bet, rather than her more wild and unpredictable friend. Not that it stopped him flirting with me, mind, and making lewd suggestions about what he’d like to do with me when Sarah wasn’t around. I’d bet a million dollars he never said anything to her like that. I should have been a better friend to Sarah. I should have warned her what he was like. But annoying prick as he was, Steve also happened to be one of the most gorgeous guys I’d ever met. Talk about love god. And I really did like him, and couldn’t help the stab of jealousy when he chose Sarah. So after that, when we were all out together, I never stopped his surreptitious flirting with me, reasoning that it couldn’t do any harm. He made me feel so good about myself, and I, despite all my chippiness and bravado, needed a morale boost from time to time. Not that I’d ever admit it to anyone, of course.

So when he finally moved things up a notch, when I bumped into him while clubbing without Sarah, I didn’t even think about her. And after we’d danced and snogged and gyrated our way round the dance floor, I thought we’d inevitably end up back at my flat. I didn’t think I cared, but the feeling of rejection when he left me so coldly, so humiliatingly on the dance floor was one I was unprepared for. I hated the feelings of churned-up misery he’d stirred up in me. It made me furious to feel so weak. But after all he and Sarah were engaged, what did I expect? And I was left alone. Bruised, sore, guilty, furious with myself for still hankering after him. And not a little jealous.

Yes, I could do with Charlie to lighten things up. He’d been so understanding, and he seemed to like me…

‘What time is it?’ I jerked awake, and suddenly realized I’d dozed off on Charlie’s shoulder. There was no sign of the other two. Presumably they’d gone off to consummate their passion. Well, good luck to them.

‘Three a.m.,’ said Charlie. ‘But hey, the night’s still young. We’re in Vegas don’t forget. Ever played blackjack?’

‘No,’ I said. ‘But there’s a first time for everything.’

So suddenly we found ourselves running through the hotel’s casino, like a pair of school kids. There were roulette wheels and card tables, in the plushest of surroundings. It was such an outrageous, extravagant kind of place, like being in a James Bond movie. I felt right at home. I could be anything I wanted here.

We found a table where a game of blackjack was just starting, and soon we were betting money we couldn’t afford on a game I barely understood. I was drinking vodka like it was going out of fashion, but here, in this atmosphere, I felt alive in a way I never had, and carried away on a feeling of indulgent recklessness. Charlie was lovely too, really attentive in a way none of the guys I’d ever been with had ever been before. I was enjoying the sensation so much, I let my guard down. And it felt great.

‘Hey, look over there,’ I nudged Charlie. ‘There’s a wedding couple.’

‘So?’ said Charlie, who was looking at his hand trying to work out if he was going to make twenty-one or have to go bust. His last five dollars were riding on it. I’d had to give up a couple of hands before, as I’d run out of money.

‘Isn’t it cute?’ I said, suddenly fascinated with this couple. They seemed to represent something I never thought I’d have. ‘I bet there’s a little chapel next door where you can get hitched, just like that.’

‘There is, honey,’ a Texan blonde with a pink rodeo hat and tasselled pink denim jacket next to me, drawled. ‘It’s called Love Me Tender, and they’ve got an Elvis impersonator who’ll marry you for a few dollars.’

‘What a hoot,’ I said. I nudged Charlie. ‘We should do it.’

‘Don’t be daft,’ said Charlie.

‘Come on, where’s your sense of adventure?’ I said.

‘I think marriage should be a bit more serious than that,’ said Charlie.

‘Oh, don’t be so boring,’ I said. ‘Think what fun we’ve had tonight. I like you, you like me, we’re made for each other. We should get married tonight and go home and make a little Las Vegas baby.’

I didn’t know what I was saying. I hated babies. I certainly didn’t want one now. But somehow, I felt certain of one thing. Charlie and I had connected tonight, in a way I’d never connected with anyone. We should be together.

‘You’re mad,’ said Charlie. He gave me a quizzical look, as if weighing something up. ‘Did you mean all that?’

‘Course I did,’ I said. ‘I think you’re gorgeous.’

‘You’re not so bad yourself,’ said Charlie, ‘but it’s hardly a basis for getting married.’

‘Haven’t you ever heard of love at first sight?’ I said teasingly.

‘Why, is that what you think’s happening?’

‘Don’t you?’ I said. Charlie didn’t reply. ‘I know. If you win this game, then we get married?’

‘All right, if I win, I promise to marry you,’ said Charlie, ‘which is absolutely fine, because I’m not going to win.’