The Big Dreams Beach Hotel

by Lilly Bartlett

  ‘You look fantastic!’ But my glance falls nervously on the camera in reception. ‘I’ve got an idea,’ I say. ‘I just hope the Philanskys aren’t looking at this very second.’ I drag one of the swivelly office chairs beneath the camera and climb up. Taping a piece of card over the camera, I say, ‘Oh rats! What a shame the camera’s malfunctioned. You can’t trust technology, eh? We’ll have to get a technician on it in the morning.’

  ‘Brilliant idea!’ Janey crows. ‘We’re free!’ She loops her arm with Cheryl’s for a little jig around reception.

  But Rory isn’t smiling.

  ‘It’s just for tonight,’ I tell him. ‘Do you want to do the honours in the bar or shall I?’

  ‘You’re on your own with this one,’ he says.

  ‘Yeah, right, because we’re in this together, eh, partner?’ I stomp to the bar to tape up the camera there. Rory talks a good game, until it actually comes to going against his bosses. Well, I’m not afraid of them.

  Though I guess I am, a little, if I’m taping over their cameras.

  Chapter 18

  Our karaoke nights are one of our most popular events. We sometimes get up to a hundred people. And despite what Rory thinks, we do make a bit of money for the night. Two-quid drinks might not be enough to keep us in business, but they do get the people in and everyone has a laugh.

  Peter waves to me from the hotel’s front door. ‘We’ll just stay here, if that’s okay? I can see through to the bar. And we’ll be able to hear everyone.’

  My heart squeezes for him. He’s wearing his cutaway tuxedo, but stuck outside like an unwanted guest at a wedding. ‘It’s fine, Peter, the cameras are off tonight. You and Barry can come in.’

  ‘Are you sure? We don’t want you to get into any trouble.’

  He’s the one being excluded from his own home and yet he’s worried about me. ‘I’m positive. You and Barry are welcome. Get in here!’

  The Colonel cuts a dashing figure as he comes downstairs a bit later. He’s wet-combed his sparse white hair into place and the creases in his trousers could slice bread. ‘You’re looking smart,’ I tell him. Everyone is making an effort. I wish I wasn’t still in my uniform.

  ‘Thank you, Rose Dear. There’s been some movement in negotiations, and I can’t have any uniform violations at this delicate stage. Lillian is a stickler.’

  ‘She looks beautiful tonight,’ I say, admiring her pale-yellow gown. It’s nearly the same shade as her hair.

  ‘She’d look beautiful in a potato sack,’ he says.

  That kind of thing would normally have me gushing, but tonight it just makes me a bit sad. I’m pretty sure that Rory won’t be keen right now to compliment me in a potato sack.

  I don’t want us to be rowing. I really like him. But I also won’t be pushed around by him at work. Standing up for myself might be the right thing to do, but it doesn’t always feel great.

  Miracle has spruced up her black dress with a sparkly diamante brooch and she’s carrying Lill’s yellow feather boa. ‘Don’t you look the diva tonight!’ I say. ‘Do you want help with the boa?’

  ‘Thanks, love, but it makes me look like Big Bird.’ She leans closer. ‘I don’t want to make Lill feel bad. She loves putting me in these glad rags. It makes her think of de old days, so that’s okay with me.’

  They’re being more understanding about the ban than I would be. I had to tell them in the end, or they’d only get into trouble with PK. They seemed happy enough to wait patiently in a blind spot till I could tape up the cameras, though. And they still wore their best outfits, even though the ban is supposed to stop them from being in here at all.

  ‘How long will we have to keep this up, this sneakin’ round?’ she asks. She’s looking at me as if I have the answer. I wish I did.

  ‘I’m not sure, Miracle.’

  ‘Everyone’s chosen their songs, right?’ Cheryl says over the mic. ‘Lill will do her set first.’

  We don’t do any special lighting for the makeshift stage in one corner of the bar, but the old lamps cast a pretty yellow light over everything. The people from town are mostly in regular jeans and jumpers, but I can tell by all the admiring oohs and ahhs that some of them will come dressed up next time. If there is a next time.

  It’s a full house. The early arrivals have settled into the flamingo cushions. Some are perched on the wicker arms of the chairs and sofas and there’s a crowd standing by the bar, where Janey and Cheryl are pouring drinks.

  The mic looks huge in Lill’s tiny hands, but there’s nothing tiny about her voice. She likes the classic torch songs best but with her range, she can sing just about anything. The room doesn’t exactly go quiet – it never does – but conversations drop to a low hum so everyone can listen. All eyes are on Lill. It’s impossible not to stare. She tells a story with her assured movements. Then there’s her voice, inviting you into the world she’s creating, and it holds you there till the last ring of the last note dies away. She’s truly in her element, and for the millionth time I wonder why gig managers can’t look beyond her age to see what a star she really is.

  She takes one last bow. ‘Next up is a very special duet. Rory? Rosie?’

  Duet? What?!

  Rory takes the mic from Lill. ‘Rosie?’

  I cross my arms. ‘What?’

  ‘Come on. I’ve chosen a song for us. Everyone wants to hear it. Don’t you?’

  The audience cheers, the traitors.

  I glare my disapproval when I see the song loaded up on to the karaoke machine. ‘I suppose I’m the waitress working at the cocktail bar?’

  ‘That much is true,’ he says, and queues the music.

  His singing is as bad as his humming accompaniment was while we peeled potatoes for Chef. Yet he seems oblivious to the cringes coming from the crowd.

  No, I don’t bloody want him, as a matter of fact, baby. And I’m not crazy about singing the line about loving him, either. His eyes hold mine as I stumble over those words.

  My face is probably as red as Janey’s dress by the time the song ends.

  ‘That wasn’t so bad, was it?’ Rory laughs.

  He’s obviously enjoying himself. Well, fine. Let’s see what he makes of the next song. ‘One more? We did such a good job with that duet.’ I queue up ‘Fairytale of New York’.

  The audience cheers as they hear the first chords. Rory laughs, shakes his head, and starts slurring the first lines.

  Everyone starts swaying as my part starts. I don’t need the lyrics prompt. Mum, Dad and I sing it every Christmas. It’s not exactly a wholesome Dickens holiday, but we love it.

  I sing every syllable of every insult in the song with such gusto that some of the audience joins in. Soon the whole room is telling Rory what a scumbag and maggot he is, and I’m really starting to enjoy myself.

  ‘Very well played,’ he says as the last notes float over the room. ‘Though I’m not surprised. I’d expect nothing less from you.’ His smile is one of obvious admiration.

  ‘Thank you very much.’ I’m immensely pleased with myself as I hand the mic over to Lill. So pleased, in fact, that for a minute I forget that I’m cross with Rory.

  But I can’t let that happen. Letting my guard down is always a bad idea.

  Lill taps the microphone for attention. ‘Ladies and gentlemen, it’s my pleasure tonight to introduce our star act … Peter and Barry!’

  They must be a late entry to the running order, since Peter was ready to stand outside till I told him we’d covered the cameras.

  Everyone whoops and cheers them into the bar. Peter looks smart in his dinner jacket. His jet-black hair is combed from above one ear over the top of his head, and the grin on his face is the sign of a pure professional.

  Barry’s got his favourite hat on. Bassets might be associated with Sherlock Holmes, but Barry is partial to a straw cowboy hat. He’s not wearing any other clothes, though. Peter wouldn’t want him looking silly.

  ‘Thank you,’ Peter says with his han
d over his heart. ‘This is Barry and I’m Peter.’ As if everyone in the room doesn’t know them already. Then he nods to Janey, who cues up the music.

  Peter’s got a good voice anyway, which he lowers down into almost a growl for their number. At the opening bars of ‘What a Wonderful World’, everyone smiles. It’s a crowd-pleaser, even when there isn’t a singing dog involved.

  But when there is … wow! Barry looks perfectly at ease sitting beside his crooning human. He licks his lips a few times as Peter nears the chorus and then, right on cue, Barry sings the six-syllable title with him. It’s not a howl, though. That would be too easy. He actually sounds like he’s chewing on a growl – rohr rahr rahr rahr rahr rahr. His expression settles immediately back into one of composed maturity. His sad eyes watch us crease up, but he’s not distracted. He’s too much of a professional for that.

  Sometimes Barry waits for the chorus and sometimes he joins in at the end of a line. Either way, his timing is perfect.

  Unfortunately, Peter isn’t as composed. When we start whooping our approval mid-song, Peter takes a deep breath … and sinks to the carpet.

  My hopes for him sink too.

  Janey suggests stopping the song.

  ‘Give him a minute, doll. It might be a short one.’

  But Peter sleeps on through the song. Barry sits beside him, half facing his owner and half facing us. He knows we wouldn’t harm a dyed-black hair on Peter’s head, but he’s vigilant.

  He’s more on guard when something like this happens in town. I’ve even heard him growl if random people get too close, and Barry’s not usually a growler. He seems to know when someone is trying to help. He’ll even bark if Peter lands awkwardly somewhere out of sight.

  Barry always knows exactly what to do when his human has a sleep attack.

  As soon as Peter starts to wake, Barry stands up to lick his face.

  ‘I fell asleep,’ he says. ‘Again. At first I thought it was the song, but that’s not the problem. As soon as I get past the middle and think I’m going to do it, out I go.’

  ‘Then maybe try thinking you’re not going to do it,’ Cheryl suggests.

  Peter shakes his head. ‘I’ll only go out from the worry.’

  ‘You’ve got to wear your helmet when you audition,’ I tell him. ‘I know you don’t want to, but you could really hurt yourself if you go down on a hard stage. Peter, are you sure you want to do this?’ I ask as gently as I can. ‘You don’t have to, you know, if it’s too uncomfortable.’

  ‘I do have to, though,’ he says. ‘I can’t just be a part-time dog act at children’s parties. It’s too sad. I know it doesn’t sound like much, but I need to do this.’

  ‘And you should,’ Miracle says. ‘You sounded wonderful. You and Barry. What a team you are. I say so what if you fall asleep? You can always get back up and carry on. The good Lord gave you talent and people should see it.’

  ‘Do you want us to come with you?’ Lill asks. ‘Don’t they let friends and family sit in the audience for auditions? We could support you.’

  Peter looks horrified. ‘Don’t you dare! Please, I’d only be more nervous then.’

  Lill rolls her eyes. ‘That’s showbiz, doll. Who ever heard of a performer who doesn’t want an audience?’

  The Colonel answers pragmatically. ‘A narcoleptic one. Don’t frighten the poor man, Lillian. He’ll only fall over again.’

  PK isn’t in the mood for small talk on our call the next day. Not that he’s usually a sparkling conversationalist. ‘We’ve decided that your talents are better suited in another roll, Rosie. We haven’t selected you for your old job, but you can manage the restaurant going forward.’

  I’m so stunned that I have to make him repeat himself. ‘But I’m the hotel manager!’

  ‘For thirty days,’ he says. ‘Then you’ll be the restaurant manager. If you want the new job, that is. We’ve reviewed your application and felt that with the hotel effectively being a different business now that it’s upgraded, a different skill set is needed to oversee it. Don’t worry, it’s a lateral move to the restaurant, and you’ll still get to do the front-desk work.’

  Rory is sitting quietly beside me.

  ‘Did you know about this?’ I ask him. ‘Who’s taking my job?’

  ‘He said he’d let me tell you.’

  ‘Who’s taking my job, Rory?’

  ‘I am.’

  I gasp. ‘Judas!’

  ‘No, I – will you let me explain? Please? Please listen to me.’

  I could stomp off like some nineteenth-century heroine in a comedy of errors, but I’m not feeling very comical. Besides, I’m not about to let him get away without having to explain himself. ‘Thank you, PK.’ I push the hang-up button and end the call. It feels good to be in charge in this tiny way.

  ‘So? Start talking.’

  For someone who begged for the chance to explain himself, Rory isn’t doing a very good job. That’s because he’s a big fat traitor and no number of excuses will make that sound okay.

  The trouble is, I’m pretty sure I’m in love with the big fat traitor. If I don’t get a hold of myself, that’s going to cloud my judgement, and I cannot let that happen again.

  Allegedly, he didn’t apply for my job. Allegedly, the Philanskys decided I wasn’t up to it all on their own and unilaterally gave my job to Rory, and he had no idea about any of it until they told him last week. And allegedly, he was going to break the news himself but the time was never right.

  Yet we’ve been alone together dozens of times in the past week. Surely there’s been plenty of time to say Oh, by the way, you know that job you assume you’ve got, just because you’ve been doing it for three years? Well, don’t get comfortable in your office chair because…

  ‘I chickened out,’ he says. His face is creased with worry and his eyes earnest behind his thick lenses. If he wasn’t my sworn enemy right now, I might find it cute. ‘How was I supposed to tell you? I know I should have found a way, but I couldn’t be the one to hurt you. I know that makes me a coward, but I couldn’t do it.’

  Even if I do believe him, and I’m saying if, the fact remains that my boyfriend has done me out of my job. I’ve been shunted aside in favour of a bloke who’s never even seen a summer at the hotel.

  ‘I just won’t take the job,’ he says, brightening up at the idea. ‘It should be yours. The only reason I’d even consider it would be to stay here with you, but that’s pointless if you’re just going to hate me. I could say no and then maybe PK would give it to you.’

  He’s looking at me like he expects me to hug him in gratitude for his sacrifice. ‘I don’t want to be given a job! I want to be recognised for my experience and ability. I deserve to keep my job.’

  ‘I know you do. You do! And if it was my decision, you’d have it, but you know PK by now. Are you really surprised by this?’

  I shake my head. ‘Just disappointed.’

  He reaches out to rub my arm, then thinks better of it. ‘I don’t blame you. If you’re sure you don’t want me to move aside, then maybe you could try finding another job in town.’

  ‘You know as well as I do that there are only a few hotels like ours, and they’re either grander than the Philanskys are trying to be, or in worse shape than we are!’

  ‘Then go somewhere else, to another town. You’ve got the experience.’

  ‘And leave my home. What if I don’t want to pick up my life and move?’

  ‘Then don’t. Rosie, I’m trying to offer solutions, to figure out how to help. We’re on the same side, remember?’

  ‘No, Rory, we’re not on the same side.’ I’m shaking as I say this.

  He blanches. ‘What do you mean by that?’

  ‘I mean that in a month you’ll be the hotel manager and I’ll be restaurant staff. We’re not on the same side. At least not at the hotel. Not anymore. PK might think he can shove me out of the way, but I’m at least going to make sure my friends don’t get the same treatment. So you�
�re on notice, Rory Thomas. Your management job just became a management challenge.’

  I think I catch the glimmer of a smile, but he’s smart enough to bite it down. There is nothing funny about this. I’m serious. I’m going to be his worst nightmare.

  ‘I understand,’ he says. ‘But personally, we’ll be okay? Because I will quit tomorrow if the job gets in the way of us.’

  ‘I haven’t decided.’ I do mean that, because in spite of my feelings for Rory, I won’t jettison my career for him.

  See? This is what I get for letting down my guard.

  Chapter 19

  Through March and April in New York, Chuck was my client again as well as my boyfriend, as we worked together on his company’s twentieth anniversary party. Since we’d totally nailed the Christmas do, we were now their favourite venue. They were shaping up to be the hotel’s biggest corporate client, and even Andi had to admit that I’d done well. Only after I’d asked her outright, though.

  The best part about the whole thing was that Chuck was so overworked that he started spending nights at his club again so he didn’t have to travel all the way back to Connecticut after a sixteen-hour day. It wasn’t often – a night here and there – but I held on to every precious second of that time together. Sometimes he wasn’t even awake when I let myself in after my shift, but I didn’t mind. I just wanted to be next to him.

  The club’s house rules meant I couldn’t stay after Chuck left, though, so rather than hang around the city till the afternoon, I spent early mornings reverse-commuting back to Brooklyn. I couldn’t very well swan into work with yesterday’s clothes on or an overnight bag slung over my shoulder, especially now that Chuck and I were working together again.

  Still, I was sure that everyone must know we were in love. It seemed so obvious from every look that passed between us.

  He was extra-careful not to hang around the hotel too much, and we didn’t even usually have lunch together before I had to go to work. So when he asked me one afternoon, I jumped at the chance. ‘Can we go back to that Mexican place at Chelsea Market?’