They found the hotel bar, strode in like it was something they did every bloody night of the week. It was a walk, an attitude, they’d rehearsed many times at the clubs in the Valley. It had never worked before. Always there was a bouncer stepping in front of them, demanding to see ID, rolling his eyes or not even bothering with much reaction before he sent the obvious sixteen-year-olds away. Here, there was no bouncer, just three model-gorgeous barmen in old-fashioned waiter outfits gliding silently back and forth behind a marble bar. They didn’t even glance in the direction of the girls. No one did.

Score! Lou whispered, chin-pointing at a booth in the far corner of the room.

Lena’s instinct was to turn and run back to the party before anyone noticed her Kmart black ankle boots, tight red mini-dress and cropped vinyl jacket from Supré. Before anyone noticed that her lipstick was Priceline and her hair Just Cuts. In the function room with all the Dick’s gross bogan friends, she’d felt too classy to bear. Now, in this room full of actually classy people, she knew she looked like a hooker from a nineties movie. But more awkward.

Lou urged her on to the booth and she felt a little better sinking into the plush fabric and barely candlelit shadow. Almost invisible here. Good. Then she read the drinks menu. Might as well go buy myself a new car while I’m at it, she said to Lou. Seriously, though, the first cocktail she liked the look of was a third of Mum’s weekly grocery budget. While they were still flicking back and forth through the menu in the hope of finding something under twenty bucks, a hot barman plonked two enormous glasses filled with pink bubbles and garnished with what looked like fairy floss in front of them. A gift from the gentlemen, he said, like it was a frickin’ movie. He gestured towards two men in suits taking up half the length of the bar with their widespread knees. They were not as old as the Dick’s mates, but not too far off. One of them raised his glass at her, mouthed, Enjoy, darling.

The drink was revolting—raspberry cordial mixed with lighter fluid—but they drained them, tongued the sugary floss on the rim. The men sent over a bottle of champagne next, and Lou had the presence of mind, and the guts, to refuse. One of the men came over then, leant far, far over the table, his freckled hands planted flat in the space between Lou and Lena. Listen, this isn’t a transaction, ladies. We’ve had a win today. Bonuses coming in, big ones. Let us share the luck around, hey?