How to Date a Millionaire (2 page)

I lie down on my bed and stare at the ceiling. Hawaii. By pj. Yay. I really can't wait. And something's telling me I need this break as much as B and G do (geez, I almost sound like I'm buying into the whole ‘B and G need a break' thing now!). Maybe I can use Hawaii to draw a bit of a line through my life. Then and now. I mean, it's not long till I'll be in my final year of high school. And it's really not long till I'll be a big sister. Twice over. Like I said before, everything's changing. But the thing is, at the same time, nothing's changing. It's weird. Some days I think I should feel all grown up. That I should know what I want to do when I leave school. That I should know, just by looking at them, that people like Ben, Ned and Justin aren't really my friends. That I should know who to trust and what comes next. But I don't. Most days I just feel like … well, like me. Plain old Nessa. The same as I felt last year. And the year before. Just a bit taller and older.

Life. It's confusing, isn't it?

Oh well. At least I got the bikini/one-piece situation sorted out. That's something. At least the tog part of my life is semi under control.

‘An orange juice, Modom?'

I look up from my (very comfortable, thank you) huge beige leather-clad recliner seat to the flight attendant who actually looks more like a butler. Hmmm. I don't think I've ever had anyone call me ‘Modom' before. Not even ‘Modomoiselle'.

‘Um, sure. Thanks,' I say, and he reaches down to put a napkin on the little table in front of me and then the glass on top of that.

‘Me too, but no ice,' Nat pipes up loudly in the seat directly across from me. ‘Dad always says that ice is a gyp. That when they put ice in they're just trying to use less juice. Same with that cheesy toast they give you at buffets.'

‘Nat!' Alexa nudges her arm, embarrassed. Poor Alexa has
already spent most of this trip embarrassed and there's only been about two hours of it so far – arriving at the apartment, making our way to the airport and getting on the pj, taking off and so on. Keeping Nat cooped up isn't the best idea. She's more a free-range kind of person and trying to confine her, belted into the one spot for hours on end, seems wrong. Cruel, even. She's all energy – even her red, corkscrew curls can't be contained – and all that belted in, simmering pressure has been popping out in the form of questions as we've travelled. Mainly directed at Holly.

Across the aisle, however, Holly doesn't seem to mind at all and simply laughs at Nat's honesty. ‘I think you're right, Nat. I hate it when you order a drink and it's mostly ice. There's plenty of juice to go around, though, ice or no ice. Don't you worry about it.'

‘Okay, Holly. I won't,' Nat promises.

Alexa looks out the window and grinds her teeth. I think she'd like to drown Nat in sheep dip right about now. The pair of them are a pretty funny combination, actually. It's just that Alexa's so groomed and polished and careful about what she says and does and thinks. Everything with her is weighed and measured. Precise.
With Nat? Hmmm. Not so much. Nat's more of a ‘blurt it out and think twice about it later when everyone's screaming their head off at you' kind of gal. Come to think of it, I'm surprised Nat's made it this far into her NYC trip alive. After yesterday's fun and frolic where Nat crash-tackled a guy in a Gap store (she thought he was Brad Pitt) and then, only fifteen minutes later, and supposedly on her best behaviour, gave all the shoppers in the lingerie department in Macy's a quick five-minute cross-culture lecture on the difference between thongs (New Zealand style – on your feet) and thongs (US style – on your butt), I was sure Alexa would have smothered her in her sleep. But, no. Or at least, not yet, anyway (there's always tonight).

Poor Alexa. I think Nat's the troublesome little sister she never had. Hopefully things will ease up for her when we get to Hawaii where there will be plenty of distractions. The beach. Shopping. Sightseeing. And, um … more boys. Oh well. At least there are two of us to wrangle Nat to the ground, put some blinkers on her and keep her out of bronzed beach-boy trouble. I just hope Brad Pitt isn't taking his holidays. If he is, he'd better watch out.

‘Oh wow!' Nat gushes, stretching her legs beside me. ‘Oh wow!'

For once, she's something pretty close to right. We've only just hit the tarmac and already I can't believe how gorgeous Hawaii is. As soon as we step off the plane into the dawning day, it hits me straight in the face. Everything's so green and tropical-warm and sweet-smelling and everyone's so laid back. In some ways it reminds me of home – of Australia (well, okay, apart from the green bit).

Fifteen minutes later, it seems things are working on island time (read: when people can be bothered to do whatever you've asked them to do). It's taking simply ages for the guy to come and pick us up in his little golf buggy because the pj landed in the middle of nowhere at the airport. Still, I don't care, because after the grey streets of NYC, just standing around waiting on the tarmac in Hawaii is pretty close to heaven. And it looks like Nat agrees.

‘Oh wow!'

‘Nat!' Alexa gives her cousin another nudge and gives me another eye-roll. But Nat doesn't stop …

‘This is great, Holly! Just great!'

Holly laughs. ‘I'm, um, glad you like it.'

Alexa tries to change the subject. ‘So where are we staying, Holly? Did B and G agree on somewhere in the end?' Alexa's also been hearing a lot about B and G lately and almost believes in their abilities to make food and accommodation choices like members of this family who have actually, you know … been born.

‘Who are B and G?' Nat pipes up again.

Standing beside Holly, I point first to the left side of her belly, then to her right. ‘Boy and Girl.'

‘Wow! You even know which sides they're on? That's so cool!'

Holly agrees. ‘It's a pretty weird feeling. Oh! There you go. Another weird feeling. G's saying hello.'

Instantly, three hands dart out to the right side of Holly's belly and G gives Dad, Alexa and me another good kick. ‘Hey, G!' I say. ‘I think she's happy to be in Hawaii.' I look up at Holly.

‘Ow! Well, so's B, by the feel of things.'

Again, our three hands dart over to the left side of Holly's belly and, with perfect timing, we get another, bigger kick from B.

‘I think he wants to go surfing,' Alexa says.

Nat sidles up next to us. ‘I've never felt a baby kick before. Um … can I …?'

‘Of course!' Holly says, grabbing Nat's hand and pulling her in as close as the rest of us. She places Nat's hand on her right side. ‘Hmmm. Wait for it, wait for it, wait for it … there!'

‘Oh wow! Wow! That's so cool! G kicked me!'

The four of us laugh at Nat's surprise.

‘Hang on.' Holly moves Nat's hand over to her left side. ‘There! One from B, too. They must like you. They're picky. They don't kick just anybody, you know.'

‘Really?' Nat looks up at Holly, unsure if she's joking or not.

‘Really. They're a naughty pair. The first time we tried to find out what sex they were they both crossed their legs so we couldn't see.'

Nat laughs at this and then, I think, realises she still has her hand on Holly's belly. ‘Um, thanks. Thanks, Holly.'

‘My pleasure, sweetheart.' Holly reaches out and ruffles Nat's hair. And as I stand there and watch her, I think about what a great mum Holly is going to be. It's been hard for her, being pregnant, especially with twins and especially in her line of work. Everyone's watching her all the time. Watching what she eats, how much weight she's put on and what she is or isn't wearing (the photos of her in the water in that hideous swimsuit and of Dad hanging around her in his budgie smugglers will be worth enough to put both B and G through college). People have been weird too. Wanting to touch her belly and so on, uninvited. So, for her to make Nat feel special right now, well, that was really sweet of her.

‘Settle down in there!' Holly says loudly, patting her front. ‘They're fighting about something or other. Probably ownership of the three doughnuts I shouldn't have had mid-flight,' she groans. But I don't hear the groan. Instead, I watch the faint outline of B and G fussing and fighting against Holly's straining T-shirt (scarily, even maternity wear is giving way against B and G's largeness). I guess, to quote Nat, ‘Oh wow!' I can't believe that in about five weeks I'm going to have a little brother and sister.

Dad sidles up next to me. Obviously he's clocked my expression. ‘You okay there, pumpkin?'

I nod quickly. I'm more than okay. It's just that, sometimes, all this mum stuff makes me think of my own mum, who died when I was six. It would have been nice to have a brother or sister before this. But still, now (oh wow!) I'm getting both at once. And I have to say I'm really pretty happy with that.

‘What do you mean the penthouse is no longer available? We booked it! Yesterday morning! Less than twenty-four hours ago!!!'

Okay. So if Holly decides to have a career change, she may make a very good Rottweiler. I think she's about to lean over the reception desk here and tear the arm off the poor receptionist.

‘I'm very sorry, but there was nothing we could do. The owner rents out the apartment and just a few hours ago he decided he needed the penthouse after all. We tried all the numbers you'd left us, but you'd already left for the airport.'

Holly goes to start off on another rant, but Dad pulls her gently aside. ‘Now, don't get upset, Holly. You know you have to watch your blood pressure. Just let me sort all this out.'

Alexa's and my eyes dart to meet each other. Big mistake. Holly, being an A-list Hollywood actress, tends to have her needs met rather quickly. My dad, being a K-list (is there even a K list?) professor of human sociology (and if you don't know what that is, I may as well tell you – he's into the mating kind of human sociology, which means he spends his days perving into other people's sex lives), will probably be ushered to the nearest three-star hotel and given a voucher for a half-price wax-museum tour or something similar. But before Dad can even ask for directions, the receptionist is trying to smooth things over.

‘I thought you might like the two adjoining apartments one floor down. There are three bedrooms in each with very similar features to the penthouse, and the apartments adjoin in the living area through a two-way door. Together, they're more expensive, but of course we'll offer them to you at the same price.'

‘With a twenty per cent reduction for the inconvenience, of course,' my Dad adds.

‘Of course, sir.' The receptionist doesn't even blink.

Holly, Alexa and I look at Dad in amazement. And when he digests the receptionist's words, frankly, even Dad looks surprised at Dad. Go, Dad! Nice bargaining! Holly's obviously teaching him a thing or two about living large (though I don't think she'll convince him about that black Porsche four-wheel drive B and G have been coveting lately).

We needn't have worried because both apartments, as it turns out, are gorgeous. Three bedrooms and three bathrooms each, with a spa on both balconies (if only there was some kind of a cemented-in choker chain so Alexa and I could keep Nat under control, but there isn't one in either apartment – we checked). Dad and Holly stand the three of us in the living area and give us the pre-emptive strike lecture about the drinks cabinet and then head next door so they can carry on with their canoodling, or just
plain noodling as it turns out, because within minutes Dad has already headed out to source some ramen noodles of all things for B and G.

Frankly, I'm starting to get scared B and G will be just as demanding out of the womb.

‘I guess we should unpack,' Alexa says, walking back over the tiled living area from the balcony where she's been admiring the view.

‘I guess we should
spa
,' Nat counters. She receives another of Alexa's looks in return. ‘What? Oh all right. I'll unpack first.' Nat heads off down the corridor, picking up her bag as she goes.