or at least restrained by an industrial-strength Alice band. Seeing it freed, fluffing out around her face and bouncing way past her shoulders, reminded me why I had been so in awe of this glamazon when we first met.
‘Get your freaking ass into your swimsuit and get out this door,’ Jenny demanded, snatching off her sunglasses and staring me down. Which reminded me why I had loved her five minutes later.
‘Please don’t kill me …’ I slowly walked backwards to put a bed between us. I’d seen her motor in heels and so those flip-flops were not going to hold her back ‘But I didn’t actually bring a swimming costume. I didn’t have one and, well, I forgot to buy one.’
‘I knew this was going to happen. Didn’t I tell you, you were completely unprepared for this?’ She rummaged around in a giant metallic tote.
‘You told me I was an idiot to pass up a trip to LA; you told me you were going to shag Joe until you broke something; and you told me you’d been waxed to a terrifying degree – but I don’t remember you telling me I was underprepared.’ I pawed through all my clothes again – not that it would achieve anything, I knew for a fact I didn’t have a swimming costume. I hadn’t possessed a swimming costume since I was seventeen. They were bad things that hated women.
‘Yeah, I’ve definitely got it in there somewhere – but I’m pretty sure I didn’t say “shag”.’ Jenny pulled a basic black two-piece out from the depths of the bag. ‘What the hell are you going to do in that interview without me?’
Oh, she was so going to make me put that on.
Fifteen minutes and one very, very painful bikini-waxing incident later, involving an overenthusiastic Jenny, one pack of ‘at home’ waxing strips and a genuinely terrified me, backed into the corner of the bathroom, I finally found a difference between The Union and The Hollywood. The rooftop pool, the rooftop pool bar and the definitely-not-in-Manhattan view of the Hollywood sign, shouting out from the hills. I perched awkwardly on the edge of a sun lounger, frantically rubbing factor fifty into my English Rose-slash-pasty-pale skin, staring out at the bold white letters. But something didn’t feel right.
‘Mojitos.’ Jenny sat two enormous cocktails on the tiny table between the two of us. ‘Hooray for Hollywood, right?’
‘I thought the sign would be, I don’t know, bigger?’ I squinted through my sunglasses. ‘It just isn’t what I thought it was going to be.’
‘Hmm, I guess.’ Jenny was busy staring at the bar. ‘I suppose when you see it every day for a few months, you don’t really see it any more, you know?’
‘I guess,’ I nodded. ‘It’s weird, though. When I saw the Statue of Liberty I couldn’t believe it. It was amazing. This just feels weird.’
‘That’s because you’re a native New Yorker now, honey.’ Jenny passed me a mojito and clinked glasses. ‘LA is cool, but if you’re going to have fun, you’re going to have to get past your idea of what you think it’s going to be, because, honey, nothing ever really is.’
‘Reassuring.’ I pulled at the bandeau top of the bikini. I wondered if I had time for a quickie boob-job. ‘At least tell me the shops are good. We have to go shopping; I can’t fill this out like you.’
‘The stores are fine, we’ll get everything you need.’ Jenny peeked over the top of her sunglasses as a tall, dark-haired man appeared behind the bar. ‘Just as soon as I’ve got what I need.’
‘Ick,’ I shook my head and sipped my mojito. ‘Go get ’em, tiger.’
Watching Jenny slink around the pool in her swimsuit, I leaned back into the padded sun lounger and concentrated on the Hollywood sign. It seemed so unreal, even though here I was with the sun on my face and a drink in my hand. It wasn’t possible that just yesterday I’d been in snow boots and earmuffs just to go out and buy milk, the sun was too lovely. But I had a sneaking suspicion that it would have been even lovelier had Alex been lying beside me. God, I’d got so tragic so quickly.
Opening one eye, I peeked over to the bar. Jenny was already flipping her hair around and leaning backwards in her high-backed bar stool to give Joe a better look at her bikini. She wasn’t wrong: he was incredibly good looking. He’d shaved off the thick black hair that Jenny had been raving about all week, but instead of it making him look like a convict, it only served to reveal an amazing bone structure and gorgeous brown eyes. Yep, I thought, he probably is worth travelling halfway across the country for a quickie. His black shirt did nothing to diminish his tan and I was fairly sure that trousers that tight were not conducive to a comfortable night’s work. Huge tips, yes, but a fun night behind the bar? Not so much. Wouldn’t it make him need to pee all the time? And how would he ever father a child?
It was only when Joe waved that I realized I was staring and it was only the filthy look on Jenny’s face that alerted me to the fact that I was gazing in the general region of his crotch. I downed the remainder of the mojito, pulled a T-shirt over my borrowed bikini and padded over in Jenny’s spare flip-flops, praying that I didn’t have any mint in my teeth. A very sexy look.
‘Hey, English!’ Joe flashed a huge smile as I clambered onto the stool beside Jenny. They were too high for me to even attempt to be ladylike, not that I was fooling anyone. ‘Great to see you.’
‘Hi Joe.’ I tried to give Jenny a subtle look to communicate his undeniable hotness. This was not possible.
‘Joe was just tell me about all the cool places he’s going to take us,’ Jenny chimed, winding a straw through her fingers. ‘He knows all the cool places.’
‘Sounds fun,’ I said. ‘You like it out here then?’
‘Love it,’ Joe said, mixing a second round of drinks. ‘Sunshine, good living, hot girls, what’s not to love?’
‘Not as hot as New York though, right?’ Jenny gave him a mock innocent look. Even after six months out of the game, Jenny’s flirting was second to none.
‘Not nearly,’ Joe grinned, leaning across the bar to ruffle Jenny’s hair. ‘I already told you, you look good, Lopez.’
‘I can always stand to be told again,’ Jenny pouted. ‘A girl’s got to keep up her self-esteem. It isn’t easy walking around in a bikini, honey.’
I ducked my head and smiled. There was clearly nothing wrong with Jenny’s self-esteem.
‘I don’t know, you’re doing pretty well,’ Joe commented, passing over our drinks. ‘And girls walking around in bikinis is as good a reason as any to stay out in LA for ever. Just let me know when the girls start walking around Union Square in their lingerie in January and I’ll come running back, sugar.’
‘Well, it depends whether or not you think it’s worth the price of seeing all those people that really should never be wearing swimwear,’ Jenny said in a low voice.
‘Yeah, but they’re the best tippers,’ Joe countered.
For a horrifying split second, I wondered if they were talking about me. Was the bikini wax not good? But as I followed Jenny’s gaze around the pool, I understood. It was true that not everyone looked quite as stunning as Jenny. There were a couple of other girls in bikinis with gleaming long limbs, perfect hair and full make-up. Clearly not about to take a dip. They lay together in silence, only moving to take a sip of an elaborate-looking cocktail and turn over, one after the other, every fifteen minutes or so. But looking along the line-up of loungers, it became very clear that not all bathing beauties were created equal.
On closer inspection, some of the women sunbathing were a lot older than I had first thought and their skin was slightly leathery under their sparkly make-up. Others wore strategically draped sarongs, positioned to conceal flabby thighs and chubby tummies, whereas other proudly flaunted their curves in horrifying neon yellow thongs and triangle bikini tops. This was going to make for all kinds of fun blogging.
Alongside the leather ladies were several solo men, either a tad overweight and