May 11th, 1990
Abu Dhabi, United Arab Emirates
I awoke this morning, to Suzi waltzing around, singing; “Everybody loves somebody sometime, everybody falls in love somehow.”
All I could do was smile. “You’re obviously feeling better.”
“Something in your kiss just told me. My sometime is now…”
“Arrrggh!” She squealed, spinning in my direction.
“Eh, what are those?” I asked.
“Headphones,” she said, removing the tiny buds from her ears.
“No, not those,” I said, getting out of bed. “The gleaming things.”
“Oh, these?” She said, fingering the emerald and diamond drop earrings. “They eh, came into my possession last night.”
“At the disco.”
“Who gave you them?”
I watched her cheeks flush. “A man at the bar.”
“A man I was talking to while you lot were boogying.”
“Do you know who he was?”
“Well, they weren’t actually from him. He said they were from one of the Princes in the VIP area.”
“I know, gorgeous, right? You can borrow them if you want. They came in a velvet lined Cartier…”
I waved my arm dismissively. “You can’t keep them!”
“I forgot it’s your first time here. I should’ve told you.”
“Told me what, doll?”
I sighed a deep sigh. “Let’s just say there’s a price for everything.”
“Oh,” she said, suddenly looking concerned.
After a day at the beach club, baking in the sun and wilting in the humidity I really wasn’t in the mood for another night at the disco but I wanted to make sure Suzi returned the earrings, so I went with her. We stayed at the bar for a while, looking around for the man who delivers what some girls refer to as “the goodies,” but he was nowhere to be seen and the VIP area was vacant.
“Guess I get to keep them,” Suzi cooed, removing the earrings from the box.
“Let’s go,” I suggested, hoping she’d agree.
“Ok, but only if I can spend the night in your room again? I don’t want anyone coming after me.”
“Oh, so you get it now.”
“Yes,” she said, looking coy. “You have to admit though, my new sparklies are simply dee vine. You can borrow them if you want.”
“No thanks and lucky for you, this is a short trip.”
Suzi is now strutting around the room, admiring the earrings every chance she gets. And she’s still singing with her headphones in, which means her pitch is much higher than it needs to be.
“Don’t you just love Dean Martin?”
I nodded yes.
“Something in my heart keeps saying, my someplace is here. Oh my God I love this song, it was my Dad’s favourite. Dontcha just love it?” she screeched.
“What?” I mouthed.
“Let’s order tabbouleh and apple pie on room service. Do you want any anything?”
Peace and quiet, I wanted to say, but it came out as “Chocolate mousse.”