Free Shopaholic to the Rescue by Sophie Kinsella Page A

though suspecting a scam.
    “You’re in Las Vegas and you’ve never gambled?” she says at last.
    “I’ve just arrived,” I explain. “I’m going to a casino later on, only I don’t know which games to play or where to start. I wondered if you could give me any tips?”
    “You want tips?” The woman’s eyes are still fixed on me, unblinking. They’re quite bloodshot, I notice. In fact, underneath all the rhinestones and makeup, she doesn’t look in great shape.

    “Or maybe you could recommend a book?” I suggest, as the thought strikes me.
    The woman ignores the question, as though it’s too stupid to answer, and looks down at the card game again. I don’t know what she’s seen, but it makes her give a sudden, ugly scowl.
    “You know what?” she says. “My tip is, don’t do it. Don’t go near it. Save yourself.”
    “Oh,” I say, discomfited. “Well, I was only planning on having a quick go at a roulette table or something.”
    “That’s what we all said. Are you an addictive type?”
    “Um…” I pause, trying to be scrupulously honest with myself. Am I an addictive type? I suppose you could say I am a bit . “I do like shopping,” I confess. “I mean, I’ve shopped too much in the past. I took out too many credit cards and it got a bit out of hand. But I’m much better now.”
    The woman gives a short, humorless laugh.
    “You think shopping’s bad? Wait till you start gambling, hon. Just the feel of the chips in your hand. The rush. The buzz. It’s like crystal meth. You only need one hit and that’s it. You become a slave. And that’s when your life starts to spiral. That’s when the cops move in.”
    I stare back at her, freaked out. She’s actually quite ghoulish, close up. Her face muscles don’t move properly, and I can see where her hair extensions begin. She jabs at her phone and another card game appears on the screen.
    “Right!” I say brightly, and start to back away. “Well, thanks for your help, anyway….”
    “Crystal meth,” the woman repeats in sinister tones, and locks her bloodshot eyes on mine. “Remember that. Crystal meth.”
    “Crystal meth.” I nod. “Absolutely. Bye!”
    —

    Crystal meth ?
    Oh God. Should I be going to a casino at all? Is this all a bad, bad idea?
    It’s almost an hour later and I’m still feeling unnerved, even though I’ve been on a soothing gondola ride with Mum and Janice and Minnie. Now Mum and Janice have gone off for another “sneaky cocktail,” as Mum put it, while Minnie and I are upstairs in our hotel room. Minnie’s playing “shops” and I’m kind of playing too, only I’m also trying to put on my makeup whilst simultaneously worrying about my potential descent into gambling addiction.
    Will I literally get hooked straightaway ? Like, on the first spin of the roulette wheel? I have a sudden horrific vision of myself hunched over a casino table, hair askew, eyeing Luke with dazed eyes, muttering, “I’m going to win. I’m going to win,” while he tries to pull me away and Mum sobs quietly in the background. Maybe I shouldn’t even go down there. Maybe it’s too dangerous. Maybe I should just stay here in the room.
    “More shops!” Minnie grabs the last remaining crisp packet out of the minibar and puts it proprietorially in front of her. “ Shop, Mummy, shop !”
    “Right.” I come to and hastily move the crisps away before she can squish them into bits and we have to buy them.
    Parenthood is all about learning from experience. And the valuable rule I’ve learned today is: Don’t say “minibar” in front of Minnie. She thought I meant “Minnie bar” and that this was her own special cupboard, full of lovely things for Minnie. And it was impossible to explain. So in the end I let her get everything out, and the carpet is strewn with little bottles and packets. We’ll put them all back later. (If it’s one of those electronic ones, we may be in trouble, but Luke will call the front desk and