I glance around, as though there might be someone about to jump out and claim it, likehey, don’t pick that, you little thief.
Even if it’s true, it’s not a good look.
But no one’s taking any notice of me, because no one cares. Obviously.
Cautiously, I pick up the note and stare at it.
Hope surges in me. It’s not much, in the big scheme of things. It’s not a bed for the night, or a job, or someone who loves me.But it’s enough for a hot drink. A bit of comfort while I try to sort my life out.
I fold the money carefully and slide it into my pocket. So ridiculously precious, that one note.
In the all-night coffee shop—The Lazy Bean, the barista smiles at me and rings up my hot chocolate with all the trimmings of cream and caramel syrup and chocolate on top, and the chocolate brownie. I hand over the perfect twenty with a pang of regret.
I enjoy the warmth and when my enquiry about a job is gently rebuffed, I don’t take it personally. It’ll be alright. I can do this. Absolutely. I’m not the first person to have no luck. I don’t need luck when I have hard work and desperation.
The barista is frothing milk when the landline rings. Groaning, she answers it. For a second, she’s silent, listening. Then she nods. “Uh-huh.” Grabbing up a pen and paper, she writes something down. “I’ve got it.”
Then she glances at me, and grins.
I blink back in surprise.
“You will never guess.” Her eyes sparkle as she sashays over.
“One of those coffee beans is magic and will grow a beanstalk leading to a rich giant’s kingdom?” I make the crap joke with a wry smile.
“No, Cinderella.” She dimples. “I’m your fairy godmother. You’re the millionth customer of the shopping centre.”
“Oh. Wow.” I say that with all the politeness I can muster, which isn’t as much as it probably should be. “Does that mean there might be a role available, after all?” It might not be my dream job, but I’m confident I could be a barista of adequate quality.
Alright, striving towards adequate.
“Nope,” she chirps.
I hide my disappointment.
“Better than that. You’ve won an all-expenses-paid stay at the hotel that the owner of this shopping centre owns.”
My mouth falls open. A night in a hotel? Just as I really need a place to stay? This can’t be real.
“You’re joking.”
“Not even slightly.” She passes me the paper she wrote on, and there are the words, “One in a billion”, and the address. I’ve never heard of it, but then, I don’t know Croydon at all.
“It’s top-end exclusive luxury,” the barista tells me conspiratorially. “Just go to the front desk and tell them that reference.”
A flame of excitement ignites in my belly, warm and unexpected. I stare at the scrap of paper until she’s finished my drink and hands over the chocolate brownie. However amazing this sounds, it might still be too good to be true. But I am absolutely going to try, if only for somewhere nice and warm for a bit.
I wrap my hands around the cup of hot chocolate and stuff the paper-wrapped sweet treat into my pocket. First the money on the floor, and now I’ve won a competition I didn’t even realise I entered.
Huh. Maybe I’m not so unlucky after all.
4
KANE
My angel’s name is Lily Sullivan.
From the office in my penthouse apartment, right at the top of the hotel, I watch her on screen as she explores the so-called suite she’s won a night in. The hastily set up hidden cameras cover every room, and her delight and relief are infectious. She flops onto the sofa and kicks her feet. She bounces on the bed, then investigates the bathroom, undoing the caps of the miniature toiletries, sniffing, and carefully replacing them. Her gasp of surprise when she finds the little foil-wrapped mint chocolate on the pillow of the king-sized bed is so adorable I would make a second billion if I could clone and sell it.
