The Cypress is a boutique hotel in Santa Monica, one of the prettiest parts of the West Coast. The city features a long, gorgeous beach, a bunch of high-end and indie shops, fine dining mixed with funky eateries, condos, and hotels.
One of the main attractions is the Santa Monica Pier. Restaurants bookend the wooden structure, while the miniature amusement park in the middle delights visitors of all ages.
The whole pier serves as both a tourist trap and the perfect backdrop for a first date.
I saw every iteration imaginable when I worked there.
I waited tables at the seafood place by the pier’s entrance before switching to bartending at the Mexican spot across the way.
The pier features our stunning California coast, and many of the hotels around here offer rooms with breathtaking views for an additional charge. Whenever I see my old haunts through the windows, the irony never fails to amaze me.
I’m only located a few blocks away, but this area sometimes feels like an entirely different planet.
I’m grateful for the Cypress’s success over the past year but becoming profitable required monumental effort and didn’t occur overnight. With the loan payments my father collects from me every month, the amount of money leftover is…practically negligible.
I convinced the head of LA’s Port Kings—my father—to purchase this place and allow me the chance to run it. Co-owners, I said.
I pay the price for that devil’s bargain every single day.
What I really want to do is buy my father out. Seize the reins and polish this hotel to a bright shine. Truly make this place my own. Then I’d be free of Declan Gallagher and the Port Kings.
I could finally rid myself of everyone who wants to use me for their own gain.
Speaking of buying my father out…
I whip out my phone and toggle to my email inbox to check for the bank’s reply.
There.
Anxious hope hops between my ribs. Will this be the moment? My first taste of real freedom?
I tap the email.
Dear Ms. Gallagher,
Thank you for reaching out to us with your loan application. We regret to inform you that we’re unable to approve…
The little bubble of hope in my chest deflates.
Again.
Without a bank loan, I’ll need to save until I accumulate enough cash to buy him out.
But with the salary I keep, I barely squeak by. I cut expenses by living in one of the suites, but those savings are a drop in the bucket compared to what I owe. The amount of money required to purchase this place was in the neighborhood of fifty million dollars. Which means that if I don’t spend a single penny from my paychecks and stop eating altogether, I should reach my goal in about…two and a half centuries.
Sounds reasonable.
My shoulders slump for a moment before I square them and tuck my phone away. I exit the supply closet and head back into the hall, smiling as a laughing mother chases after her squealing, bathing-suit clad children while her husband trails after them carting boogie boards and a giant inflatable donut.
I use their infectious joy to remind myself of how lucky I am and why I love what I do.
The hotel and I will be fine.
I just need to work a little harder.
Chapter 2
Maeve
