‘This is my boy, green as the day his mother pushed him out, down the road at Hammersmith Hospital,’ he says in a broad cockney accent, slapping Kai on the back. I look from the lad who resembles a long drink of water, to the man who is the Bellagio fountain. Maybe we were lucky to have Kai as our boss-hole after all.
Son ushers father inside, looking a little less confident. Maybe he’s unnerved by the two of us meeting or perhaps it’s the vibe created by a violent purple reception. The massive thumbs-up sculpture in the centre of the foyer is certainly eye-catching. I breathe a sigh of relief he didn’t go for an aubergine. Meanwhile the wall behind reception is dotted with oversized emoji keyrings.
As Kai’s dad exclaims his bluddy luv of everything in a broad cockney accent, I look around for the bathroom. I soon locate it by the huge emoji toilet roll sign on the door. I notice the traffic light with a green smiley face is exactly what I suggested to Kai at the bar on Halloween. He listened to me. Inside it’s almost good taste. The porcelain cisterns look retro to the point of vintage and when I look up ‘emoji toilet’ I find Kai has faithfully represented the Google version. I laugh at the toilet paper and hand towels printed with tiny faces.
‘Well, you’ve certainly been faithful to the world of emoticons,’ I tell them after washing my hands with a sweet-smelling emoji poo and rejoining them in reception.
‘He did all this in weeks. Weeks!’ says his father, beaming with pride.
‘The planning permissions were sorted, and the building is structurally sound. We only had to update the decor. Oh, and by the way, an emoticon is an emotion,’ he corrects me. ‘We’ve recreated emojis.’
‘I wouldn’t be too sure. This place is going to provoke emotions in all sorts of people.’
Kai gathers up a selection of key rings and quickly programs them. ‘I’ll show you one of our Smiley Face rooms, although you could stay in Sparkles and Unicorns, or the FireSuite of course, depending on your taste and whether or not you are seven years old.’
We follow him to a corridor painted in massive blue ZZZZZs, with red hearts woven into a white carpet. ‘Each corridor has a theme. This floor is love. Here you’ll find the Aubergine Honeymoon Suite, several smaller heart-face doubles including Heart on Fire, Love Letter and Romantic Cat with Heart Eyes, and of course the world’s emoji favourite Smiley Face with Heart Eyes.We believe that popular symbol will be our biggest draw. The Laughing So Hard I’m in Tears suite is a family room upstairs with bunk beds and a gaming centre.’
My phone rings again with a quote for the lookie-likies. ‘How much? I wouldn’t pay that much for the real Pierce Brosnan,’ I tell the agency, raising an eyebrow from Kai. His dad’s phone goes off as I end my call. Kai nods at him. ‘He’s calmed down since the heart attack. Used to be Bob the Builder on acid.’
‘I’m guessing your laid-back exterior is an antidote to that?’
‘Dad firefights three different blazes before breakfast. But if the systems were working properly he wouldn’t need to do that. The doctor told him to retire. He’s handed over two of his hotels to me but there’s a clutch of others in dire need of investment and updating. And one or two need closing.’
‘I thought he’d be Japanese. With the whole Majik Kube pod thing going on. And you have those great cheekbones and you look …’
‘… Asian? My mum’s from the Philippines. Dad’s dyslexic and dysphasic. He came up with the concept of Magik Kube when he accidentally planned a hotel with beds the size of coffins. It was a lucky mistake and a profitable hotel, but it needs a refurb and a rethink. He buys new properties for the buzz of it but lets the existing brands and buildings fade and crumble. Paying staff peanuts, ignoring the maintenance issues– it’s all a recipe for disaster. The maintenance man resigned lately as he was asked to service three hotels on a part-time basis and I think even Eva would quit if we weren’t a couple.’
A couple? Not a convenient lay? I throw him a bone. ‘You’ve done well here you know. It’s cool and bang on trend. Accessible for every nationality. An absolute gift for social media. It’ll sell itself. Who wouldn’t want to take a thumbs-up selfie with your thumbs-up statue?’
He shrugs. ‘My dad loves bling– he’d rebuild Trump Tower in Mayfair if he could. I had to show him I could do this. And I couldn’t have done it without your ideas.’
‘You know, I’m starting to think you aren’t a total loser,’ I tell him.
‘Does that mean you’ll work for me again?’ His eyes light up and for a brief moment I see what Eva sees in him.
‘Not a chance in hell.’
We take the lift down to the basement. ‘It’s beautiful, so bluddy beautiful,’ says his dad, tears in his eyes, as we view the budget spa, a tiny area tiled from wall to wall with a purple-haired emoji mermaid.
Next, Kai opens a door with a smiley heart face symbol on the front. A massive face with big red heart eyes is splashed over the wall behind the bed, beaming a smile made up of the words ‘You will always have a place in my heart’. The bed is a canopy of white and yellow cotton with an impressive pile of pillows and the curtains are a mixture of happy emoticons, all with their emotion described beneath them in a flirty way. The words ‘blush’, ‘wink’ and ‘adore’ are dotted around the room.
‘You old romantic,’ I say.
His dad rushes to accept the compliment. ‘I’ve always liked a bit of cheeky fun.’
Kai leads us back upstairs, to a restaurant that needs work. ‘It’s not quite there yet. We ran out of money as the thumbs-up sculpture cost a mint, and I also needed a statement piece for the upstairs landing; it’ll be arriving before the launch. We’re planning an open kitchen, where people can see the chef work and choose their food from the counter.’
‘Is that a pizza oven in the centre?’
‘It’s broken. We’ll need a new one.’ As his dad wanders off, Kai tells me the really big surprise is yet to come. ‘Closer to launch night. Influencers will turn up in their hundreds. Daisy, would you please consider working for me again? I need a hospitality manager.’
‘I’d rather eat the skin off my arm. Do you have a chef yet?’
‘I’ve interviewed a couple. But no one can start this side of Christmas.’
‘I know someone who’s saving to buy his own restaurant. He makes great pizza. Want to meet him?’
‘You bet.’
