Three shots of tequila later at the English bar on the strip, and I’m beginning to believe that Jenny has indeed changed her life. Apparently, the old Jenny has been left on that hypnotist’s stage and the new Jenny is out of control.
As soon as we set foot inside this place, she was in the thick of it. So far, she has entered a drinking competition and knocked back the tequila as if it’s water. She’s had a bucket of water dumped all over her in a wet t-shirt contest and now it appears she is playing pass the mango in a chain of extremely willing, drunken men. Jo looks at us with amazement.
“Wow, new Jenny is a lot of fun. She is having the time of her life and I want what she’s having. Who’d have thought that guy was the real deal.”
Marcus grins after snapping yet another picture of Jenny to torture her with when she snaps out of it.
“Actually, the guy is a dud. I cornered him afterwards, and he said his real name is Ernest Smith from Hartlepool. He’s just doing the circuit out here and those other people are his employees. Jenny believed in him and her mind has switched all by itself. He said he’s seen it before. If someone really wants to believe something, it only takes the power of self-belief to re-focus the brain. That is Jenny up there and she just needed to believe in herself.”
Rachel shakes her head in astonishment.
“Wow, that’s amazing. If I hadn’t seen it myself, I would never have guessed. I hope she doesn’t wake up tomorrow and forget about it. She’s having the time of her life over there.”
We watch as Jenny leads the mango line in a conga around the bar. She is laughing and her eyes are sparkling and not just with the effects of the tequila. Maybe this is her grief taking her down a different path. They say that grief does the strangest things to you, which is obviously true in her case.
Before long she staggers over and thumps Jo on the back.
“Hey, girlfriend. Do you fancy going skinny dipping? My friends over there said they’re up for it, if you guys are.”
I stifle a giggle at the horror on Jo’s face as she looks over at the drunken crowd of men, all throwing us suggestive looks. Then I see her focus on Pete’s absolutely furious one and a wicked glint sparks in her eyes.
“Sure, why not? I’m up for it if you are.”
Rachel and I exchange a look of horror as Jenny squeals.
“Yay!! Come on then.” She then starts singing,
♫ It’s getting hot in here,
let’s take off all our clothes ♫
Grabbing hold of Jo’s hand, she pulls her from the bar and Marcus follows laughing loudly. Rachel looks at me in horror as we quickly follow them out.
We almost have to run to catch up with them as they run shrieking to the beach. Jenny starts pulling her clothes from her body and leaving them in a trail behind her. The guys from the bar follow suit and I start to get extremely worried. One of the guys grabs Jenny and throws her into the sea and her loud shriek of joy bounces all around the bay. Jo quickly jumps in, in her underwear and there is a lot of splashing and shrieks of laughter. Marcus, the dirty boy, takes off all his clothes including his underwear and jumps into the middle of the water party. Rachel looks at me with tears running down her face.
“Come on, if you can’t beat them, join them.”
I shake my head as a furious Pete races over with Barry.
“What the hell’s going on? This is out of control. Stop her, Becca, she’s making a complete fool of herself. She could get into all kinds of trouble with those guys.”
I share his concern but something about the pure joy bouncing across the water calls to me. Maybe this is what the doctor ordered for us all. One night of pure and utter chaos, throwing caution to the wind. As Rachel starts stripping off her clothes, I join her.
I laugh as I see Pete’s shocked expression as we race off into the sea.
Soon we are thrashing around with the rest of them. We engage in a massive water fight and laugh at the sight of Marcus wrestling with the drunk guys in a play fight. Then they turn their attention to us. We each find ourselves hauled onto the shoulders of a near naked man as we try to topple each other. It doesn’t take Pete long to wade in and try to dislodge Jo from the shoulders of a tattooed man from Wigan. She is having none of it though and kicks out at him, drenching him in the process. Before long he gives in and just sits on the edge of the beach moodily, while we have the time of our lives.
It doesn’t take long before we are exhausted and haul ourselves from the water and grab our clothes. Despite being wet we quickly dress and head back to the bar. The drunk guys are actually really good fun and just intent on topping up their alcohol levels and having a good time. They are no threat to us and we enjoy having the most fantastic party night that I can ever remember having.
The only dampener is Pete, who sits moodily in the corner, throwing anguished looks towards Jo who couldn’t care less. Even Barry joins in as we indulge in a, pass the mango, Olympics.
It must be 2 am when we drag ourselves back to the hotel.
By the time I let myself into my superior room the euphoria from the alcohol is wearing off. As I wander through the large room all alone I sink into a pit of despair.
This is it. As usual, I am all alone and probably will be forever. Becca the lush has made an appearance and will probably dictate my future. I am destined to always return alone and get my kicks from frolicking with naked men in the sea.
Pushing my way out onto the balcony, I look at the beautiful lights twinkling all around Acapulco Bay.
I have never felt so alone. My loneliness is consuming me and so I do what I have always done when I feel at my lowest point. As I lean on my balcony, I start to sing in a sad and small voice.
♫Can you hear the drums, Fernando?
I remember long ago another starry night like this♫
I sniff and carry on, slightly louder.
♫In the firelight, Fernando.
You were humming to yourself and softly strumming your guitar.
I could hear the distant drums and sounds of bugle calls were coming from afar♫
Just as I’m about to ramp up the volume for the chorus I hear a discreet cough from the balcony next to me.
Spinning towards the sound, I try to focus on the shadowy figure who appears to be stalking me in the early hours of the morning. Shakily, I say in what I think is a forceful voice,
“Who is it?”
They move into the light and my heart threatens to burst inside me as Luke emerges from the shadows.
I must be hallucinating and blink several times to unscramble my brain.
He smiles that devastating, female kryptonite, smile and my whole-body sighs.
“Sorry to interrupt. I thought it was you.”
Shaking my head from side to side like a mad woman, I stutter.
“What… how… when…. why… who?”
He grins and I pant with desire.
“It appears that we are neighbours.”
Trying to will my mouth to join the rest of my body from its new position on the floor, I am suddenly acutely aware that I’m looking my worst. In fact, I have probably never looked worse. My makeup has run down my face from the effects of the sea frolic and I’m wet through. My dress is now clinging to my body like a wet rag and is probably every man’s fantasy as it exposes my curves through the sheer fabric. My hair is wet and bedraggled and my eyes probably bloodshot from the tequila. Far from looking like a goddess, I expect I look like a hoe.
Luke, however, looks good enough to eat. His hair is spiky on top and begging for my fingers to rifle through it. He is wearing a figure-hugging t-shirt and combat shorts and his feet are bare. He looks sleepy and slightly vulnerable and it takes what is left of my inner strength not to launch myself on him like a heat-seeking missile.
He smiles softly.
“I was hoping to run into you. The trouble is, things took a turn for the worse after I checked in and I haven’t left my room since arriving.”
I look at him in shock.
“What happened?”
He laughs softly.
“It appears that I’ve been given the honeymoon suite and everything that goes with it. When I arrived, there was a feast of oysters laid out for my pleasure, alongside a bottle of champagne. I was tired from the flight so decided to polish off the lot on my heart-shaped, rose petal strewn bed while watching the football. Next thing I know, I was revisiting the oysters in the bathroom and must have passed out from the effects of the champagne. I spent all night and all of today recovering from a huge dose of food poisoning and it’s only now that I feel human again.”
I look at him with concern.
“Wow, that’s rotten luck.”
He leans on the rail next to me and looks out at the bay.
“It looks beautiful though. So, tell me, did I miss much?”
He laughs as he says it and I realise just what a mess he must be looking at. I smile shyly.
“Not really, same old things.”
He laughs and even in the darkness I notice his eyes twinkle.
“Well, it looks as if I’ve missed out on quite a night. Maybe you could let me tag along tomorrow and show a guy how to have a good time on his honeymoon without a bride.”
I laugh like a madwoman and will myself to tone it down. Gosh, I’m not making a very good impression.
He smiles sweetly.
“Listen, you look as if you need a hot shower. You’re shivering despite the fact it’s 20 degrees in the middle of the night. Why don’t you make yourself comfortable and I’ll fetch you a hot drink to warm you up? We could watch the sunrise together, unless you would rather go to sleep that is.”
As if. I’m suddenly more awake than I’ve ever been in my life. What, sleep during the best moment of my life? He has got to be kidding.
I smile, trying to look nonchalant as if things like this happen to me every day.
“That sounds great. Just give me five minutes and I’ll be back.”
He smiles and my heart does a Triple Axel.
As I rush towards my bathroom, I break every rule I possess. I throw my sodden clothes to the ground and don’t even attempt to pick them up, rinse them and hang them neatly to dry. Then, I frantically scrub every inch of me, without following the correct bathing routine that I have adhered to since I was a teenager.
I drag the brush through my hair without a care for split ends and then worry what on earth I should wear. Going against every rule of OCD, I tear through my wardrobe like a hurricane. Clothes are flung from their hangers and quickly rejected as I search for the perfect outfit. It needs to shout, chic, elegant woman, who is poised and sophisticated. Not the inebriated lush that dresses like a tramp that I was five minutes ago.
With a quick squirt of Jo Malone and a five-minute makeover to my face, I take a deep breath and glide back onto the balcony.