Part 17 (1/2)

'Anyone you like.'

I'm quiet for about twenty minutes as I draw up my fantasy wedding guest list. The fantasy wedding guest list that is going to come true! Jess, Adam and I used to play a game a bit like this. As we sat eating baked beans on toast we'd often quiz one another on who would attend our perfect dinner party. Jess and I would plump for Brad Pitt, George Clooney and Matt Damon; pretty much the cast of Oceans 11 Oceans 11 to to 13 13, while Adam would swear that he'd prefer to have Christopher Wren, Dostoevsky and Queen Victoria to his party. Liar. Although the truth was, the idea of throwing a dinner party was a fantasy for us. Adam and I never once had people round for a meal. Least not what you'd call a proper one; pizza from a box does not count.

I'm glad I didn't call Jess earlier. Now, I have even more to tell her. I check my watch. Midnight here, that makes it 8 a.m. tomorrow back home. She'll be on the tube. I don't want to get her voicemail; this is too good to leave another message. I'll call her first thing tomorrow.

'You're happy, right?' asks Scott, somewhat superfluously since I keep giggling to myself and I have stood up to dance a short but expressive jovial jig around the room.

'Never more so.'

'I have another reason for wanting to rush the wedding through,' he adds.

'Oh yeah?'

Scott holds out his hand and finds mine. He gently pulls me back on to the sofa and puts his arm around me. 'I was thinking, you know, we've both had our fair share of partners in the past.'

'I had a fair share. You've had a veritable feast, gorged yourself silly from all accounts,' I point out.

'Yep, I know and that's what got me thinking. We need to be special.'

'We are are special.' special.'

'Different.'

'We are are different, we're getting married, neither of us has ever done that before.' different, we're getting married, neither of us has ever done that before.'

'I know and so I want to mark that in some way.' What, a party for a thousand isn't enough for him? I beam at him, waiting for him to explain. 'I was thinking maybe, since we haven't actually managed to have s.e.x yet, that we shouldn't.'

'What?' That stops me smiling.

'I don't mean we shouldn't ever ever. I mean we shouldn't have s.e.x until we are married,' says Scott.

'But that's two months.' The same two months that just minutes ago had seemed oh-so-brief (too brief to plan a spectacular wedding!) now seem an eternity. Two months with no s.e.x. It's a terrible idea. Somehow no s.e.x with Scott Taylor is a hundred times worse than all the no s.e.x I've had in the past.

'Yes. That way we'd be like vir-er-er-er-gins.' He sings the word 'virgins' like in the Madonna song. 'I just thought it was a way of making what we have truly special. Do you see?'

I do, sort of. The sentiment is darling but the actuality is going to be dreadful, truly h.e.l.l on earth. I thought that tonight what with the candles, the champagne and the log fire that were as good as screaming s.e.x s.e.x that tonight would be that tonight would be the the night. night.

'I don't know, Scott. It's been tricky resisting thus far. Tricky and frustrating and '

'Hot,' he adds.

'Yes, I suppose so,' I concede.

'I'm loving this delayed gratification thing. The novelty alone is mind-blowing. It's all about antic.i.p.ation and control and '

'Shouldn't it all be about love?'

'Of course it's that.' Scott's grin vanishes in a poof. He looks mortally offended.

'Oh OK, go on,' I agree, even though I really don't want to. I can't bear to see him unhappy. He looks so fragile. Like a child. I want to see his face brighten once more. 'Let's get married early early October, though.' October, though.'

Scott nods. 'Agreed. I think we'd better have separate beds until the wedding, otherwise this no s.e.x thing is going to be really hard.'

I nod, even though hard is just what I'm after.

41. Scott

My pad here in LA is awesome. Chock-full of style and luxury. I like it out here by the pool because nothing says rock and roll as eloquently as a private pool. I have a stunning infinity pool that seemingly flows out to an endless, lush garden which is as big as a public park. The size of the garden is not an indulgence, it's a necessity. The tabloid sc.u.m have long lenses and short consciences. You can sell my discarded chewing-gum on the internet for fifty quid, so you can imagine how much a pic of me s.h.a.gging a starlet fetches. Around the pool there are a number of heavy, broad wooden sun-loungers. The cream cus.h.i.+ons lie as inviting as giant marshmallows. There are green towels, rolled into neat Swiss roll shapes. There's the occasional marble table to be found snuggled between the beds, a comfy resting place for gla.s.ses of champagne and minted water which all my guests are furnished with within minutes of their a.r.s.es. .h.i.tting the seat. I have excellent pool staff. It's all very tasteful.

I like swimming and fooling about out here, although I don't like lying around on the loungers the way Gary (the ba.s.s) and Mick (drummer) are right now. Their drinks sparkle in the sun, leaving individual footprints a wet ring of condensation on the table. I'm unsurprised to note they are drinking Bollinger (mine) even though it's not midday. I wave to them but don't bother walking over. As I'm not drinking at the moment, I don't much like being around people who are. As Gary takes a sip I feel a twinge of longing so I dive into the pool and start to do lengths. I swim just three confident lengths before Mark appears. He sits down with the lads and says something to them, calls over one of my excellent pool staff and the champagne vanishes. Job done.

Then I spot Fern. She's peeking out from behind my huge cacti, which are bedded in large white plant pots the size of cauldrons. My cacti are bigger than anyone else's in Hollywood, Saadi checked. I also have enormous bushes of bamboo, with stalks as thick as my arms; they stretch upwards to tickle the feet of anyone hanging about in heaven. The sun is almost directly overhead now and pounding down ferociously, throwing short, almost undetectable shadows on the dark marble floors. Fern starts to drag a sun-lounger into the shade, I make a move towards her to help her but one of my muscle-bound pool guys beats me to it. Fern looks faintly embarra.s.sed but a bit chuffed as she watches his gentle exertion on her behalf.

Fern has a great body. Slim and toned without betraying a food phobia or gym obsession. I move towards her and am struck, the way I was the first time I met her, by her top-quality, pert, neat t.i.ts. Excellent. And that's from a man who spends a lot of time being underwhelmed.

I pull up a lounger next to hers and stand over her to let the cold drips of pool water splash on to her stomach. She jumps a foot in the air, squeals and then laughs when she opens her eyes and realizes it's me.

'Rat. I thought it was raining,' she says.

'Just blue skies for you from now on in, Petal, nothing but blue skies.' She beams at me. 'Sleep well?' I ask.

'I woke up at two in the morning and stared at the ceiling until eight.'

'Jetlag?'

'Excitement. I fell into a deep slumber at the exact moment I stopped debating huge romantic number wide enough to shelter an entire family versus simple s.h.i.+ft wedding dress, just wide enough to disguise my hips. I couldn't switch off,' she says with a grin. 'Hey, look what Saadi gave me.' Fern waves about a brand new iPhone.

'She's great, Saadi. She thinks of everything.' I yawn and sit down on the lounger next to Fern's. Let's see if I can stay put for twenty minutes. That's not a ridiculous target. I should be able to do twenty minutes with Fern to keep me company. Or at least fifteen.

'It's like something Q gives James Bond just before he goes on a.s.signment. Apparently, besides being a phone, I can use it to do my email, as a sat nav thingy, as an organizer.'

'If you want to be organized,' I chip in.

'I think the implication is that I ought to be. It has access to the internet, you can play games on it, or use it as a multi-media player or even a camera.'

'Can it tap dance?'

'Yes, and floss teeth,' replies Fern with a grin. 'Thoughtfully, Saadi has already bookmarked a number of websites that she thinks might be useful to me.'

'Like?'

'Like places I might want to visit in LA. There are so many places to choose from. Where do you want to start?'