Page 2 of The Rebel

Kevin guffaws and I find myself laughing along with him. I rarely laugh. The occasional chuckle, maybe. But the cities I live in, surrounded by the poor and vulnerable, don’t make me feel like smiling much, let alone laughing.

Pa understood my need to help kids like me. He recognised my restlessness after I completed my economics degree and worked alongside him in the hotel business for two years. He’d been grooming me and I’d done my damnedest to make him proud. But it hadn’t been enough and he was man enough to let me go. Sure, I’d accepted a token position. Hotel Quality Control, an invented position akin to a mystery shopper where I’d travelled the world, checking into the company’s hotels, and reporting back on everything from cleanliness of the linen to room service.

Pa swore my feedback mattered, that he instigated measures to improve hotel failings. I think I could’ve written my monthly reports in Mandarin and he wouldn’t have noticed, that’s how much faith he had in me.

I owe him. Big time.

‘On that note, I better go find my balls.’ Kevin stands and stretches his arms overhead. ‘Let me know how the meeting in the morning goes.’

‘Shall do.’ I salute, glad that I have a guy like Kevin to lead me through the maze.

Being Pa’s assistant for thirty years ensures he knows everything there is to know. He’s invaluable to me. More like a mate, even though he’s old enough to be my dad.

Considering the mammoth task of getting this resort back on track, I’m glad he’s giving me a hand.

I need all the help I can get.

Chapter Two

Daisy

‘I’ll have the most colourful cocktail on the menu, please.’

I point at the chalkboard behind the bar like a pro, when in reality I get tipsy after one glass of wine.

The cute barman flashes me a grin, like he knows exactly how much of a phoney I am, before turning away to grab a multitude of bottles. If all that alcohol is going into my cocktail, I’m in trouble.

I don’t care. This is my first night on Gem Island, one of the jewels in the Whitsundays, and I’m about to do a kickass PR job for the most enigmatic man on the planet.

I’ve done my research. He’s an introvert who prefers travelling the world doing a menial job in Ralfe Rochester’s hotel empire than following in his illustrious grandfather’s footsteps. He has a limited social media presence. There’s nothing to suggest he’ll be a capable replacement for one of Australia’s famous hoteliers who died recently, leaving Hart his sole heir.

According to my research, the Rochester business empire is floundering, which is where I come in. If I can make the Rochester hotels attractive to clientele, it’ll be a massive coup professionally and one step closer to my goal: starting my own PR firm.

‘Here you go.’ The barman places a giant martini glass in front of me, filled with a pale purple liquid that has a sprig of lavender floating in it. ‘Go easy. It’s strong.’

‘Thanks, what is it?’ I feign nonchalance as I pick up the glass, swirling it like an expert.

‘It’s a Gorgeous Gem, one of my award winners.’

I look suitably impressed and he continues. ‘Vodka, white rum, coconut, house-made lavender syrup, lychee juice, lemon juice, and a secret ingredient I can’t reveal.’ He leans across the bar, close enough that I realise he smells as delicious as his cocktail. ‘If I told you, I’d have to kill you.’

He winks and I hide how flustered I am by taking a big sip. Bad move. Catastrophic, because I choke and cough and splutter, demonstrating I’m lousy with alcohol and a hopeless flirt.

He chuckles. ‘Let me know when you want another.’

Try never, I refrain from saying, taking a more cautious sip this time. It’s amazing: fruity and sweet, with a powerful kick. I take a bigger sip, enjoying the buzz. Who knows, I might even order another? Alf, my boss, isn’t arriving until tomorrow, so tonight I can relax.

I never do this back home in Brisbane. Not for the last twelve months, since my engagement to Casper imploded. Our engagement lasted three months, doubling the time I’d dated him. Turns out the perfect guy on paper isn’t so perfect to live with.

Thoughts of Casper make me gulp the rest of my cocktail. It burns my throat but man, I feel good. Better than good. Freaking invincible. Filled with false bravado, I order another.

‘Thanks.’ I flash the bartender my best dazzling smile when he places it in front of me and he grins, with the slightest shake of his head, like he knows what a lightweight I am when it comes to drinking.

As for the flirting part, he’s already moved on to two girls barely out of their teens, leaving me feeling ancient at twenty-seven.

I raise the glass in his direction in a silent cheer. Your loss, buddy boy, I think, downing half the glass before I realise how fast the alcohol has affected my brain if I’m contemplating flirting with a stranger. I don’t do that. I’m wildly out of practice. I’ve been on one date since Casper and that was a disaster, my one and only foray into a dating app. The guy turned out to be fifteen years older than his profile pic, and had lost all his hair along with his sense of humour. He’d been dour and sleazy, a terrible combination. I’m better off sticking to my career.

‘Cheers to that,’ I mutter, downing the rest of my cocktail and signing the tab.

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