In Case I Forget To Tell You

The ghostly trio

Lips is squinting at his mac screen whilst Stephen changes the water in the vase that he has somehow managed to cram a tree in to. I stand at the counter working my way through a box of pastries I bought at the La Brea Bakery.

I had to wait a while to get served because – Remember Scrooged? The Bill Murray film? Well, there was that homeless man in it who was very childlike and had a button nose. He freezes to death and comes back at the end as an angel. You remember. Well HE pushed in front of me at the bakery. He wasn't acting in that film, that's exactly how he is, childlike and a bit lispy.

“I'll take a muffin and cwoffee pleathezzz.”

He's not my first celebrity sighting but he's definitely the sweetest.

We went to see Dame Edna's Farewell Tour the previous night and I'm still giggling about one bit where Edna goes to an Ashram to find herself;

“It was during a morning yoga class whilst I was doing the downward dog that I had an epiphany. I realised I just needed to love myself more.” She makes a sad face and then breaks in to a huge grin. “And possums, I couldn't have been MORE successful! I can now see myself through your eyes! Aren't I wonderful!!!”

She constantly refers to the people in the cheap seats as 'The Missers' as in 'Les Miserables' and tells them to hold on tight to the wall and not clap lest they should plummet to their deaths. Funny fucker. At the end of the show Barry Humphries comes on as himself and chats to the audience. He'd been sat at the table behind us at dinner before the show and we were all weirdly a bit star struck by him. As we leave Lips and Stephen decide I need a pair of Dame Edna glasses despite my protestations. I'm then made to wear the glasses and pose in front of a life size poster of Edna whilst they amuse themselves taking pictures.

'Okay, that's booked,' Lips says.

'Whath bookthed?' I mumble through donut.

'Las Vegas.'

I'm so excited I don't react at all. Just stare unblinkingly until Stephen nods at me.

'We're really going to Vegas?'

Lips nods casually.

'We're booked in to The Cosmopolitan, you have a smoking room and we have tickets for Cirque Du Soleil's LOVE.'

I kiss Lips and do what passes for an excited dance – I basically nod and shimmy my shoulders a bit. My knees have been KILLING me for the last week and I'm hobbling about like an old crone.

'I'm overexcited,' I say. 'I need to go and lie down for ten minutes.'

Backup Mimosa

They've ruined me those two. Completely. Stephen popped out the other day and left me by the pool writing. But before he went he made me a mimosa. And a back up mimosa on ice. It's alarming how quickly I can adapt to that kind of thing...

We go for a bite to eat before meeting Barbara, an old work colleague and friend of Lips, at Chateau Marmont. I've been really wanting to go for a drink at the hotel because it's iconic and I've read a lot of biographies in which people have overdosed there. I associate it with John Belushi whom I love. When we arrive there are paparazzi stationed across the road.

'It's the Grammy's this week,' Lips explains. 'Lots of celebs staying here before the ceremony.'

Security establish regretfully that we're not on the list and they're 'at capacity'.

Lips phones Barbara who comes out and waves at us. Security see her and immediately let us in. As she's not staying at the hotel we're curious to know why she has such sway.

'Oh, I've been drinking here for years.'

I watch as famous people I couldn't recognise in a line up strut past me. They all look about twelve.

We head up to the bar and settle in to big armchairs. The place is exactly what I thought it would be; Dark, elegant, cosy and slightly 70's in its attitude.

A woman with white curly hair walks past and Barbara tells us she's a brilliant photographer. I've never heard of her so she googles some of her work which is easily recogniseable.

There's a garden area through the doors to our left under a high stone archway. A long table has been set up and people are sat with white flowers on the table and bottles of wine, smoking and chatting. The party is in honour of a tiny elegant blonde sat at one end whom I'm later told is Michelle Williams when she glides past us on her way out.

I order a cocktail called Big Trouble. It's bitter and awful, like a negroni, but I drink it anyway. I let Stephen choose my next one and he picks a Daisy Buchanan which is basically gin and elderflower and suits me perfectly.
Barbara is a sweetheart, funny and clever. She works at HBO (I think) and tells us stories about Sarah Jessica Parker's frequent presence at work. Apparently she's very nice and very tiny. She tells me about her son Atticus whom I will be meeting at brunch on saturday. She shows me a video of him. He's five and adorable.

I head downstairs, slightly tipsy, for a cigarette. There's one other man there smoking and he waits a beat before saying hello. We have an animated natter for about ten minutes and part ways. I recognise his face, I know he's famous for something but I couldn't for the life of me tell you who he was. He was oddly fascinated by my trip to Australia and asked a lot of questions about crocodiles.

The following day Lips is finally finishing jury service (he was guilty) and the three of us are spending the day in Malibu.

Whilst Stephen attends an acting lesson in the morning I wander down the promenade in Santa Monica window shopping and smoking. A man approaches me.

'I'm sorry Ma'am but you can't smoke here.'

I look up to see if there's a ceiling I've missed but can see only blue sky.

'But I'm outside...aren't I?

'Yes ma'am but you can't smoke on this street.'

'Just this street?'

'That's right. You can smoke on the next street or along one of the alleyways here but not on this actual street.'

'Okay...' I scurry in to an alley and find the rest of my people dragging on fags and looking a bit gimlet of eye.

At a loss for any proper way to thank Lips and Stephen for all the spoiling of me I decide to buy them a book each. Yeah, that'll cover it. I pick two Raymond Carver short story books.

Lips arrives and I give him his. He immediately dashes in to Barnes And Noble and buys me a copy of one of his favourite books.

I text my niece in Malta: “I've bought champagne, I've bought books. Short of making them something out of antacid pills I'm sunk.”

She writes back: “Make a matt out of your pubic hair. That way they'll know you really put something of yourself in to the gift.”

She says I made her this way.

As we drive along the coast Lips tells me that Malibu is where all the beautiful people are. And all the plastic surgery too.

We arrive and have a Bloody Mary at a place called Hank's so I can see the view of the ocean and all the surfers. We then head to a Cuban place for lunch. I don't see any beautiful people. I see a lot of scary thin miserable looking women in expensive clothes that hang off their scrawny arses. One woman completely freaks me out. She's got to be about sixty judging by her neck and hands. From behind she looks twenty. She's wearing low slung tight jeans just above her pubic bone and has huge fake breasts. Her hair is long and blonde and her face is smooth and line free but slightly puffy looking. Her lips are full and sensual and her eyes are old and sunken. She's such an optical illusion I can't stop watching her. She's weirdly coquettish, almost shy which just adds to my deep sense of unease. I see her several times as we wander around the shopping area. She's alone, wandering too, with a skimmed something or other with a straw which she takes frequent sips from. She looks lonely, like she needs a bear hug. I watch her flutter about nervously before climbing in to her red sports car and driving off to god knows what.

Sunset at Nobu

They take me to Nobu on the beach where we drink champagne and watch the sun set. It's so lovely we stay for hours and end up eating at the bar. I have a Lychee Martini and offer a taste to Stephen who sips it and nods;

'Yup, hate it. Couldn't hate it more.'

He doesn't mince his words that one.

The following morning we're up at 7am, Lips immaculate as always, me staring in to space with a coffee and a fag. We're having an early brunch with Barbara at Cecone's. We drop Bradley and Andersen off at the “Posh Pets Hotel” where they don't give us so much as a backward glance.

When we get to Cecone's Barbara is there with her husband Darin, their son Atticus (who's smile makes even my atrophied ovaries wheeze briefly in to life) and a friend called Amy. Amy and her wife live between New York and Venice Beach. She's dry and funny and we discover we're on the same flight to london on monday.

I go to the toilet and when I get back Barbara is grinning at me.

'So I hear you're planning to meet a cowboy in Vegas and get married by Elvis.'

'Yes, that's correct.'

'Not going to happen,' Lips assures me.

'But - '

'Thea, no.' Stephen says in the same tone he uses when Andersen Cooper pisses inside the house.

Darin hugs me and says bye with the following wisdom:
'Have a great time. Be bad.'

We leave and head over to Rodeo Drive. I'm on the phone to my mum as they hand the car over to the valet.

'Mum, I'm going to Vegas!'

'That's nice dear. Give Lips and Stephen my love.'

'MUM. I'm going to VEGAS.'

'I know. I can see the headlines now: “I lost my child to Vegas.” Don't marry anyone.'

'But - '

'And don't drink too much. And don't gamble away everything you own.'

'Harrumph.'

When I get off the phone Lips says;

'Do you know where we are?'

I look up. It's a posh hotel.

'This is the Beverly Wiltshire.'

'It's nice.'

'It's where Pretty Woman was filmed. I thought we could have a mimosa here so you can see it.'

Honestly, I couldn't love him more.

Breakfast

I dash inside and look for Richard Gere.

We sit at the bar and watch people come and go. There are monuments of champagne everywhere.

Again, because of the Grammy's it's heaving with people in huge sunglasses looking like they really don't want you to know that they are very famous and therefore wearing sunglasses in the complete lack of sun glare to make sure you don't recognise them...and their entourage.

I turn to Lips and quote Pretty Woman:

“In case I forget to tell you later, I had a really good time tonight.”

He rolls his eyes and gives me a kiss.

'C'mon, Doll. We better head to the airport.'

Stephen suddenly looks panicked.

'Where's you luggage?'

'Here,' I say pointing to my satchel.

'That's it!?'

'Change of knickers and a toothbrush.'

'Wow,' he says conservatively.

It's time to go to Vegas.