As she came out of her room she was immediately faced with the next couple of guests, two young men in t-shirts, jeans, and hoodies. Unlike Ada, they had their cameras at the ready.
“So we’ve just arrived at the Funky Cat,” one of the men was saying. Roxy recognized him as Michael O’Sullivan. He had dark hair, thin lips, and a serious-looking face. “Isn’t it looking grand?”
The other man jumped in front of the camera, pulling a silly face. “Woohoo! Far too grand for the likes of me!” Roxy knew he was Dash Davies, recognizing him from his unruly red hair, wild grin, and bright t-shirt. He was known for always wearing some wild color or other. Together the two men made up the Instagram and YouTube star duo Michael & Dash. They toured the world in a variety of styles, from budget to luxury, and while Michael compiled the serious reviews, Dash always had a trick up his sleeve to make things interesting and, Roxy suspected, boost views. He posted videos with such titles as The Ice Bucket Challenge…In Greenland! Or Man Downs 100 Pints of Lager in London!
“Hey there!” Roxy said with a huge smile. Her heart was pounding. She knew she was on camera, and despite the position she was now in, she still wasn’t at all used to fame, notoriety, or even people noticing her. She’d only recently allowed Sage to include pictures of her on their own Funky Cat Instagram profile. “The stars of Michael & Dash! So glad to have you guys here! My name’s Roxy, I’m part-owner and manager of this hotel. I’ll be your host during your time with us.”
Dash bounded forward and wrapped her up in a hug. “We’re totally pumped to be here!” he said into her shoulder, a little too loud for comfort. Then he backed up. “Me and Mike have been…”
“Michael,” his partner said.
“Oh sorry, I forgot.” Dash slapped his hand to his forehead. He looked at Roxy and grinned. “I do have a tendency to be overly familiar. Excuse me. Michael.” He gave a little bow and discreetly rolled his eyes at Roxy as he straightened up. “So, anyway, we were saying, we’re so totally excited to come to New Orleans to get our dose of the culture. We want to eat ourselves silly on all that Creole goodness. I’m planning to put on at least ten pounds. Can you hook me up, Rox?”
Roxy laughed. “I certainly can. And, if you turn the camera around, you’ll see someone who’ll make sure of it.” She pointed out the door. “That’s Elijah’s Bakery, and he makes the meanest beignets–they’re square donuts–the world has ever seen. We stock up on them for breakfast.”
“Sounds like a plan, Roxy!” said Dash. Then he grabbed his case. “Right! Where’s my room?”
“Come with me!” Roxy said feeling excited now. While Michael was quiet and serious—maybe a little pompous—Dash’s energy was contagious.
But they didn’t get very far. Before they’d ascended four steps, there was a cheery “Hello!” at the door.
CHAPTER FOUR
ROXY TURNED TO see an older woman in her late 60s, her gray hair cropped short, rather like Roxy’s. She wore a big smile and an equally large backpack. Compared to Roxy’s earlier guests, she cut a more quiet, modest figure. She was dressed in cargo pants, a plain gray t-shirt, and hiking boots. In her hand, she carried two trekking poles. For one horrifying moment, Roxy couldn’t remember her name before it came rushing back to her. “Sylvia Walters!” She was a travel influencer from Maine. Most of her followers were women aged 65 and over.
Sylvia had obviously done her research. “You must be Roxy Reinhardt.”
“Indeed I am.” Roxy came down the steps and shook her hand. “I can show you all up to your rooms. We’re ready for you.”
“No personalized service?” Michael muttered. He spoke softly, but loud enough for Roxy to hear.
Everyone went quiet.
“Michael!” Dash hissed, giving him a little shove on his shoulder.
Unfortunately, the shove was a little too hard, and Michael fell down the four steps they’d just climbed. The camera crashed to the ground, and Michael stumbled, then over-corrected, finally splaying out at the bottom of the stairs.
“Ow!” he said.
Roxy and Sylvia gasped.
Dash hurried down the stairs. “Oh my gosh! I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to…”
“Shut up!” Michael said, pushing him away roughly. “You could have seriously hurt me.”
“Are you okay?” Roxy asked, peering at him.
“Who cares about me?” Michael barked, reaching out for the camera that had crashed to the ground when he fell. “It’s this I’m worried about.” He took a look and nodded. “Thank goodness. Still intact and still recording.” He turned the camera back to himself. “Well, I just took a dive, but I’m fine now. See you guys in a little while.” He pressed a button and the red recording light flicked off. “Hmph. Let’s carry on.”
Dash looked embarrassed. “I’m real sorry, bud.”
“I wouldn’t worry about it too much,” said Sylvia. “Drama always commands attention. You might even turn into a meme!”
Roxy saw Michael’s facial expression darken, and she jumped in quickly before the conversation turned into an argument. “Let’s get you up to your rooms, everybody!”
Roxy, having felt excited just a few minutes earlier, was feeling stressed now and wondered again if this Instagram promotion had been such a great idea after all. She tried to hide her fears with a smile. Dash seemed to read her thoughts because as they turned the corner on the staircase, he patted her on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, Roxy. We’re not litigious.”
Roxy laughed nervously. “Well, that’s something.” She hadn’t even thought about that. She settled her guests into their rooms without further fuss, but by the time she returned down the stairs, she felt a little sick. What had she let herself in for? She popped her head in the kitchen to see how things were progressing. Nat was hard at work at the counter while Evangeline was flitting between pans like a fly.
“How’s progress?” Roxy asked. She paused. “Nat, don’t you need to get dressed?”
Nat stuck her tongue out. “We have it all under control, thank you. Anyway, I’m just booting it, so no rush.” Roxy knew what she meant. Nat was not a dressing-up sort of girl. She loved her black distressed jeans and band tees and big combat boots. Roxy doubted even a million dollars could get her slipping into something slinky. When it came to dinnertime, Nat usually just changed her shoes, from the worn-down boots she wore every day to something a little fancier.
Nat had amassed quite a collection of Doc Martens over the months of working at the Funky Cat—purple sparkly ones, teal patent ones, silver-and-black stripy ones, and a black patent pair with red ribbon laces that tied in a huge bow. Each time she got a paycheck, she put some aside for her next purchase. The boots, while not elegant, were part of Nat. They gave her character. She also put a brush through her short, unruly hair, which transformed it into a pretty, sleek bob. Her tattoo sleeves still showed, though. All in all, Roxy had reconciled herself to Nat’s appearance and just about considered her trademark look an asset, a nod to the quirky character of the Funky Cat Inn. She certainly sparked conversation between the guests at mealtimes.
Despite Nat’s tongue poke, Roxy smiled back at her and said, “It’s smelling delicious. I can’t wait!” She looked around at the food preparations laid out in the kitchen. It gave her butterflies to know that much of the next few days would be memorialized in perpetuity in videos and pictures and reviews. Were they really ready? She shook her head. It was too late to think about that. At least she could rely on the food not to let her down.
Her nerves made her want to start fixing everything. She headed back into the dining room where Nat had laid out fancy white tablecloths and huge place settings with reams of cutlery for each person. Three vases of flowers graced the center of the table. Roxy clasped her hands and tapped them against her mouth as she walked around inspecting everything. She scanned every place setting, making sure each knife, fork, and spoon was just so. She tweaked the positions of the flowers. When she couldn’t improve
things any further, she went over to the lounge area and checked that all the cushions—blue and bronze—were in perfect alignment.
“Hello?” a deep female voice called out from the hallway.
Roxy hurried through to the entrance. “Hello, there!” she said. The final influencer to arrive, Lily Vashchenko, was in front of her. Lily was tall, much taller than Roxy, and older, perhaps in her early thirties. Waves of blonde that emerged from darker roots bounced over her shoulders. She had slanted almond eyes that were distinctly Slavic and made her look innocent but a little seductive at the same time. She wore tight white jeans and a white swishy top with silver butterflies fluttering all over it. Black stilettos with a silver heel finished off her ensemble along with big silver jewelry that pierced her ears and lay around her neck.
“You must be Roxy,” Lily said somberly. She placed her palms on Roxy’s shoulders and bent in to air kiss her on both cheeks. Roxy, her mouth forming a perfect “O,” couldn’t help but allow herself to be embraced like this. “Lovely to meet you, Lily.” As Lily let her hands fall, Roxy watched Lily’s rose gold iPhone warily—was she filming?
Lily saw her glance and said smoothly, “I’m not recording yet. That would be bad manners. You’re new to this whole business, so I shall not put any pressure on you. I’m only going to put good things in this review, don’t worry.” Lily had a thick Russian accent. She grabbed the handle of her large suitcase, also rose-gold, and smiled, cat-like, the skin around her eyes creasing at the corners. “So, where’s my room?” Lily tilted her head to one side and smiled with her lips pressed together. “I don’t know you, but I am proud of you for running such a lovely hotel. That’s such an achievement at your age.”
“Thank you! Please come with me,” Roxy said, unsure whether to be flattered or patronized, but she was glad to be able to tell Lily, “You’re getting the penthouse suite!”
CHAPTER FIVE
AT 6 PM, ROXY called up to the guests’ rooms to let them know that dinner would be served in an hour. She told them that beforehand they could relax in the lounge and have the nibbles she’d prepared: chips, pistachio and cashew nuts, olives, and champagne. Then they’d head to the huge dining table for their meal.
In preparation for the evening, Roxy changed into a purple satin dress and paired it with silver sparkling shoes and a silver necklace and earrings. Before Roxy arrived in New Orleans, she’d loved clothes and jewelry, but never had the confidence to wear show-stopping outfits. She felt like a kid playing dress-up when she tried. She also hadn’t had the budget for anything but basics. She’d stuck mostly with jeans, plain skirts, sweaters, and tees. But now? Now, she had a newfound confidence and she was making the most of it! Nat had shown her the best thrift stores in the city, and Roxy had become an exceptional bargain hunter, kitting out her wardrobe with the kind of outfits that befitted her role at the hotel but on a very small budget. There was nothing else for it in her opinion, New Orleans and her position simply demanded glitz and glamor.
Roxy didn’t have time to do anything special with her hair, not that there was a lot she could do with it—it was a pixie cut after all—so she simply finger-combed it, and with a flick of mascara and a slick of lip gloss, she was ready to go.
Roxy had laid out glasses on a tray on top of one of the coffee tables, a couple of bottles of champagne resting in ice coolers beside it. After calling her guests, she had hovered, ready to greet them with a glass of bubbly, conscious that each and every moment was a video and review opportunity. She didn’t want to give the influencers the slightest chance to produce anything negative.
While Roxy waited, she wondered if they had already made any less than favorable content for their Instagram accounts. She had an overwhelming temptation to whip out her own phone and check, but she resisted. It wouldn’t look very professional if the influencers sauntered in ready for the finest New Orleans had to offer and found her glued to her phone like a teenager so it stayed in her little glittery cross-body bag, firmly on silent.
Sam arrived first. He brought his saxophone with him and looked suave and sophisticated in a gray tux. “Hi, Rox,” he said, setting his sax at the back of the room behind one of the luxurious couches. “Everything ready?” His eyes were lit up with excitement on Roxy’s behalf.
“I hope so!” Roxy said. “I’m a bit nervous. Their arrival wasn’t entirely without a hitch, but I think the meal will go well.”
“You’ll be absolutely fine. You’ll do great, in fact. You’ve worked so hard on this place and…”
“With your help,” Roxy interrupted. She knew she’d landed on her feet thanks to Sam and Evangeline and felt a little guilty about it, though she didn’t quite know why.
“It’s been an absolute privilege to help,” Sam said firmly in his lovely low voice. “I didn’t want to see this place turned over to a developer, torn down, and turned into shiny new apartments any more than you did. This is my heritage. Yours now too.”
“I know,” Roxy said. “But thank you all the same.”
“You’re welcome. Now I won’t hear any more about it,” he said briskly. He bent over the ice bucket containing the champagne. “May I pour you a glass, Ms. Luxury Hotel Manager?”
Roxy laughed. “Please do. Though I won’t have much, or I’ll be spilling my secrets to the world via Instagram video.”
“Ha!” Sam said. “The deep dark secrets of Roxy Reinhardt. Are you part of a criminal underworld?”
“Busted,” Roxy said with a smile, taking the glass of champagne from him. “Don’t blow my cover now. Or I’ll have you…” She raised her eyebrows, and her glass, in a meaningful way, “dealt with.”
“Ooh hoo!” Sam said. “That’s me told.” They stared at one another over their champagne for just a little longer than necessary before a door closing behind them eased the tension.
Sage and Elijah had arrived. Sage, as ever, looked like something from another world. She’d dusted her cheekbones with silver glitter that shimmered in the lamplight, and she had a wreath of silver and deep pink flowers on her head. Magenta robes flowed loosely around her frame and brushed the ground. Silver sandals peeked out from beneath.
“Looking like a dream as always!” Roxy said to her, giving Sage a kiss on the cheek.
Sage gave a humble little bow and said, “May the golden light of blessings engulf you.” Being engulfed, even with blessings, seemed rather overwhelming to Roxy, but she was quite certain Sage’s intentions were kind.
With Sage came Elijah. He strode into the hotel in a dark purple suit and bright white shiny shoes with gold flecks. A black shirt with a gold bow tie completed his look. His reputation for flamboyant outfits wouldn’t suffer that night.
“Hey, hey, hey, it’s crunch time!” Elijah said, which didn’t help to calm Roxy’s nerves in the least. “Time to let the Funky Cat spread its wings and fly!”
“Cats fly now, do they?” Sam said.
“In some mediums,” said Sage, gravely. She was a vegetarian and loved animals. Her expertise in the spiritual realm gave her an otherworldly view of them. “On the human plane, cats’ wings are clipped.” She put her hand to her chest like she was in pain, feeling the cruelty toward the felines in her own heart. “But they do fly. In the astral sphere, they are free.”
The others stared back at her astonished as she looked at them seriously before bursting into giggles, clutching her chest.
“You should see your faces!” she said. “I am kidding! Well, mostly.” She winked at them.
“I don’t know when you’re kidding or serious, darling,” Elijah said to her. “It’s all weird and fantastic to me.” He turned to Roxy, kissing her on both cheeks. “Did you get those pastries I sent over? They are specially for the influencers.”
“Yep, I guessed.”
Elijah had made custom cupcakes for each of the guests. Each one was decorated with the Instagram logo and the guest’s name. “They look fantastic and adorable, Elijah. Thank you. Nat will deliver th
em to the guests’ rooms along with a personalized thermos of brandy milk punch while they’re eating so it’s a nice surprise for them after their meal, like a sort of nightcap.”
“Marvelous. You think of the finest of touches, girlfriend,” Elijah said.
Before long, Roxy’s important guests trickled in. Michael and Dash didn’t really do the whole tux thing, but they came down in linen suits and snappy dark brown leather shoes. Ada, the Nigerian socialite, was absolutely stunning in a long white gown that made her skin look richer than ever. It hugged her slim body, and she looked like a million bucks. Sylvia, the influencer from Maine, looked smart in a navy blue pantsuit and Mary Janes, while Lily, the tall, slightly haughty influencer who was staying in the penthouse suite, wore a little cocktail dress in pink. It was her favorite color. Her Instagram profile was awash with it.
Roxy had decided that all her friends would sit down to dinner with the influencers, just as they often did with her guests. This mingling of friends and visitors had been a part of the tradition of the hotel when it was Evangeline’s. It created a warm, homey atmosphere. Elijah was always on hand with a joke, and Sam could be relied on to charm the guests and provide great conversation. Sage exuded goodwill toward others and might read their fortunes, while Nat could be great fun under the right circumstances. She had been known to burst into glorious song after dinner and would take requests if she was in a particularly good mood. It was true that Evangeline wasn’t the most sociable of people, she certainly wasn’t a party animal or a social butterfly, but she could talk at length about New Orleans and would introduce the guests to all sorts of hidden attractions they would not have otherwise discovered. Roxy, of course, would be the consummate host.
CHAPTER SIX
AFTER CHAMPAGNE, THE influencers, Roxy, and her friends sat down at the table. Roxy had suggested offering canapés, but Evangeline had said she wasn’t a fan of all that “newfangled, posh fiddly stuff.” She preferred serving a good, hearty New Orleans dinner that didn’t come with any fussy, fancy crudités or appetizers. Instead, the meal began with gumbo.
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