‘Absolutely. Throw an exclusive party with your mega DJ skills. Run Facebook and Twitter competitions asking people to comment with their favourite emoji and give the winner a free room that relates to their fave graphic. Source some emoji-related memorabilia and create a little shop in reception. Or, even better, surprise people with one on their pillows to take away. Everyone loves a freebie. Look how the Magik Kube sliders go down with guests.’
‘I never agreed with those slippers eating into profits,’ Kai says frowning.
‘Why not? They’re cheap to source and people love to take them home. Maybe every time they wear them to their bathrooms they’re thinking, hey, I must book another night at that hotel that gave me the free slippers.’
He narrows his eyes. ‘Magik Kube will be selling off everything including the shirt off my back if it doesn’t stop haemorrhaging money. The new hotel will turn a profit quickly. All staff will work split shifts and do a bit of everything, and we’ll automate check-in where possible. The decorators are on standby, and I need a quick turnaround. Any chance you could advise more on the theme and design? Your ideas are so on-point.’
‘I’m pretty busy right now.’
Eva downs the dregs of her cocktail and moves it out of the way in anticipation of the next. Kai turns to her, annoyed. ‘I told you not to discuss this project until we’d had a chat.’
When she looks blank, he turns back to me, astonished. ‘You came up with all that on the fly?’
I put on my best disgruntled face. ‘I am the internet’s most successful happiness guru. Why wouldn’t I have ideas on emojis? And by the way, my current client is paying £500 a session for consultancy. I’m happy to give you tonight’s advice for free if you never ask me to work with you again.’
He laughs and sits back on his seat. ‘You live in la-la land, Daisy Blane, and I worry about that superstition thing you have going on, but I do admire your spirit. Always have, from that day you fell over me in Kensington Gardens.’
A waitress approaches us, dressed as Maleficent. She’s carrying a fishing rod with a doughnut hanging from the end. Her belt is loaded with bottles of red, green and blue liquid. ‘Would you like to do the doughnut bob? We also have free Fear Pong and the bucking ghost is in the house if you fancy a ride? There’s a prize for the dude that can stay on the longest.’ She aims both questions at Kai, who ignores her, while Eva throws her an unamused look for leaving her out of the conversation.
I order two red and two green drinks for Eva and me and the waitress pulls them up into syringes. ‘They will do until our Witch’s Brew comes. Can we order double rounds please, on his tab?’ I point to Kai. ‘Open up, Eva!’ I nudge my friend and Maleficent squeezes the first shot into her mouth. She gargles like it’s mouthwash before wiping her chin on the sleeve of her red onesie. Now her mask is gone, she looks more like an adult baby than the Korean death squad. ‘Let’s go see if we can get you a slot on the bucking ghost, shall we? Grab the ghoulie by the goolies and take home the prize?’
We stroll to the crowd gathered around the mechanical horse. The party atmosphere intensifies when a man starts roving the pub with a microphone presenting a game of Shag, Stab, Void– the bar’s take on the enduring game of Snog, Marry, Avoid. People are being asked to name a Halloween TV or movie character in each category before being rewarded with a free shot for their efforts. A woman who is quizzed near the toilets announces she’d shag Daniel Craig, stab The Joker and void Loki.
‘How is Daniel Craig a Halloween staple? And you can’t void Loki,’ I mutter, shaking my head at her naivety. A tattooed man in a black cape flies off the machine and bowls into a crash mat beside us like a B-tech Marvel hero. When he looks up I see it’s Dracula.
‘Wish more hot vampires fell out of sky,’ Eva says, bending down and hauling him up off the mat.
The roving presenter finds another goon to interview, introducing ‘Joe from just off Uxbridge Road,’ as tonight’s most imaginative serial killer. ‘I don’t think we need to ask what you like to have for breakfast.’
‘Snap, crackle and schlock? I run a mobile coffee cart,Cup of Joe,so I rarely eat breakfast actually.’ With a jolt I realise it’s my Joe. The one who said he couldn’t come.
The DJ laughs. ‘I have a feeling one or two of your customers will need a stronger brew tomorrow morning judging from the carnage here. That’s an impressive armoury of knives. Did you accidentally serial kill anyone on your way here?’ I try to peer through the crowd gathered for the bucking ghost to see what he’s come as.
‘No, but I murder Ed Sheeran every morning by singing to keep warm,’ says Joe in his measured, cheerful voice.
Craning my neck, I catch a glimpse of a large cardboard box. If he’s come on impulse how did he get hold of that so late in the day? And why would he lie? He must have known I’d spot him.
‘So, Joe from just off Uxbridge Road. Who would you shag, stab and void?’
‘Well, I would void the world’s population of zombies, but they’re a bit nameless and quite hard to capture without a crossbow.’
‘Do you mean nameless or faceless?’ the DJ quips.
‘The latter for sure. I guess I’d probably void Ghost Face fromThe Scream.’
‘You and a lot of people who still have nightmares from those films.’
‘And maybe I’d stab … I dunno really …’
‘Dressed like as a serial killer, you could do all the stabbings.’
I’m still in the dark about Joe’s costume. The Yorkshire Ripper? Dennis Nilsen? Moving closer, I catch sight of his hair, that tell-tale curl now slicked back with gel. His face is as handsome as ever, but his outfit? If I didn’t know it was a Halloween theme, I’d have assumed he’d come as a vending machine. He has hung a large cardboard box over his head. A supersized image of the Rice Krispies logo is glued to each side of the box. I notice there are knife handles sticking out of it at random angles. To say the costume looks home-made is a vast understatement.
‘Serial killer?’ Eva repeats the DJ’s words, clearly puzzled by the exchange.
‘Ah!’ The penny drops. ‘Cereal killer.’ She continues to look bemused. ‘It’s a play on breakfast cereal?’ When my reply fails to spark any understanding, I listen out for his choice of stab victim. But the DJ is already on with the important decision about which Halloween-related character he’d like to shag. ‘I’m afraid I’ll have to press you on this one. Remember there’s a shot in it if you can relate all three to Halloween.’
I wave to our milkman who heads for the gents with a severed head under his arm as Joe finally answers the question that will earn his shot. ‘Er, well … maybe, at a push, I’d go for … Carrie?’
