“No, madam, I do not. My father is the exception to the rule. I’m otherwise very good at following orders.” Everybody lies in these things, yes?
Rosy gives me a long, hard look. “I know you’re Pierce’s brother, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to stand for any funny business. It’s an important job. In fact, it’s one of the key positions here at the hotel, because you have direct contact with our guests. If you’re too slow, or aren’t friendly enough, or you have the tendency to drop things, we’ll end up getting a lot of complaints, and even worse, poor reviews on TripAdvisor. And believe me, in the hotel industry, every bad review you get is the equivalent of having a thousand people cancel their rooms.”
I give her a confident smile. “Well, then I’ll be perfect for this job. As you can see, I’m very friendly. I’m also highly coordinated, have an exceptional amount of stamina, and lightning-fast reflexes.” Ha! Maybe getting a job isn’t going to be so hard after all.
“How long are you planning to live on the island?”
Best to be vague about this one. “I’m here indefinitely, but no less than six months, and I can assure you that should you hire me, I will show up every shift on time wearing a smile.”
***
A bellboy. It turned out the entire interview was to determine whether or not I’m qualified to be a lowly bellboy. Even the title lacks dignity. It’s really the worst of all the boy jobs. Cabana boy wouldn’t be so bad, because of being outside in a cabana working exclusively with a few super relaxed, most likely tipsy clients. Pool boy is always a big hit with the ladies since it’s one of the very few jobs you can do shirtless. But bellboy isn’t exactly one of those vocations that has women swooning. Although I suppose since women are off-limits, it’s probably better if I’m employed in an invisible position.
Turns out I can start immediately because one of their late-shift bellboys quit yesterday. Yay, what a timely coincidence. Read that with absolutely no enthusiasm whatsoever.
I change into the uniform—a white golf shirt with the Paradise Bay logo on it and a pair of khaki shorts that looks obviously very goofy with my black patent leather dress shoes and black socks. I texted Pierce to see if he could bring me a pair of Keds, but he hasn’t gotten back to me yet, which likely means he’s either locked away in his writing cave or too busy laughing hysterically to bother texting back. Balls. Why couldn’tIhave written some dumb fantasy books? It can’t be that hard, can it?
I sigh as I stare at myself in the bathroom mirror. This is really happening. As of a few minutes ago, I am among the working class. Better get to it.
I open the door to the hallway to find Rosy waiting for me. She glances down at my shoes. “You may want to wear something more casual and more comfortable tomorrow. You’ll be on your feet for eight hours every shift.”
“Good tip. Thanks.”
Gesturing for me to follow her, Rosy leads me down the hallway to the lobby area.
Feeling like a complete fool in my dress shoes, I can’t help but notice all the other staff are wearing boat shoes or casual Sketchers. There’s even one guy with a pair of Adidas Ultra Boosts. He must be the alpha of the pack. We walk past the reception desk that lines the entire back wall of the open-air lobby, and over to a smaller desk to the right of it. A woman who appears to be about my age stands behind the polished wood desk, concentrating very hard on some papers in front of her. She must be a supervisor or something because instead of wearing a golf shirt and shorts, she’s in a rather unflattering white dress shirt and beige suit jacket. Her dark hair is in a low ponytail, and there’s something severe about her expression, as though she has the weight of the world on her shoulders. When Rosy approaches and she looks up, I see that she has beautiful, big brown eyes and high cheekbones my mother would pay a lot of money for.
As I hurry to catch up with Rosy, something tiny and bright-green swoops down from the thatched roof and does a buzz-by of my head. Immediately fearing it’s nature’s most terrifying of fauna—the butterfly—I duck and yelp, “Jesus!” in a high-pitched voice. The tiled floors and high ceiling cause my voice to echo in the otherwise quiet lobby, and soon the rest of the staff have stopped what they’re doing to stare.
“It’s just a bird, mate. She won’t hurt you,” the Adidas-sporting alpha says with a smirk.
Great, now I’m the loser in the black dress shoes who’s frightened of birds. “Righto, I know,” I say, giving him a confident nod. “Just took me by surprise, is all.”
I continue walking, thanking my lucky stars that the lobby isn’t infested with butterflies or moths. Birds I can handle—almost—but not insects with wings. I’m not scared of them, but I do have what I consider a very normal amount of anxiety around them. Whoisn’tscared of the creepy, furry, flying little buggers? The way they land on a window at night and stare at you with their enormous eyes like they want to nibble on your skin when you fall asleep. Gives me the spine-tingles just thinking about it.
I hurry to catch up with Rosy, glancing at the woman I assume I’ll be reporting to directly. I can tell she’s talking about me because of the quick glance in my direction. She gives me the once-over, her eyes focusing on my shoes and socks for a moment before she turns back to Rosy.
Turning to me, Rosy says, “You’re going to have to move faster than that, hotshot if you’re gonna make it in this business. You just let a fat little old lady beat you across the lobby.”
“Yes, of course. I shall speed it up.” For some reason, I pop my P on the word up, sounding like a complete dork. The young woman gives me a look of dread.
Rosy points to her. “This is Brianna Lewis. She’s the head concierge on the four-to-midnight shift. You answer to her directly, but if there’s any trouble, she reports you to me. And trust me, you do not want to be reported to me.”
I stare a moment too long at my new supervisor, struck by how lovely she is.
Rosy taps me on the shoulder. “Hello? Leopold? Did we lose you already?”
Looking back at Rosy, I feel myself blush. “Not at all. Ms. Lewis will be my supervisor, and if I mess up, she’ll be forced to rat me out to you.” I smile at Brianna. “Even though I’m certain it would cause her great distress to do so.”
Ms. Lewis raises an eyebrow at Rosy and folds her arms. “Seriously?”
Leaning in, Rosy says something under her breath that I can’t hear, but it clearly doesn’t please my new supervisor, because she closes her eyes for a second and sighs before opening them again.
Rosy pats me on the shoulder, then turns to walk away, calling back, “Brianna is going to take you on a quick tour of the property to get you started. I’ll have the concierge desk covered for the next thirty minutes while you show Leo here the ropes.” She glances at me again. “Good luck, Leo. You’re going to need it.”
As she walks away, I swear I hear her laughing.
Extending my right hand, I say, “Hello, milady. I’m Leo, your faithful servant.” I give her a flirty smile, which she does not return. “I vow to do whatever it takes to make your life better.”
