Page 77 of Tame Me

“Regarding your pay structure, we’d like to offer you an increase of nine thousand dollars per annum, and once the probation period of six months is over, if we’re all satisfied, we’ll increase it a further three thousand dollars per annum. Are you happy with that?”

An extra thousand dollars every month? I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.

Suddenly, it hit me. As day manager, I’d lose my room. “I’d like to keep my apartment.” I blurted that out and instantly wanted to retract it. “I mean, I’m sorry. It’s just, I’ve been living here for three years, and I love it. I’m willing to sacrifice some pay in order to keep it.”

Brandi and Richard looked at each other, and as my heart thumped, I wished I had Lolly’s mind-reading skills. Finally, Richard turned back to me. “We wondered if you’d ask that.”

“And?” I tensed and bit my lip so I didn’t blurt anything out.

“We’re willing to let you keep your apartment, if you’re willing to forego the pay increase. However . . .” He held up his finger, “we will readdress this in twelve months, as we may want to return your apartment back to the letting pool.”

“Thank you, that’s perfect. I accept.” In the back of my mind, I knew I should negotiate. But I didn’t want to. Everything they offered was over and above what I’d ever expected.

Romana reentered the room and once again left the door ajar.

“Wonderful. Brandi will draw up your contract and have it ready for you on Monday.” Richard stood, and I stood with him and held out my hand. We shook, and he smiled. “Oh, and by the way, don’t be late for your shift.”

I laughed. “Never.”

I shook hands with Romana and Brandi and left them in the boardroom. Knowing I didn’t need to watch out for Needledick’s dagger eyes had me floating across the lobby to the elevator. My grin dominated my reflection in the elevator mirrors as I rode it up to my floor.

At my apartment, I squealed, ran for the bed, and cheered as I dived face-first onto the covers.

“Yeeehaa,” I screamed. This called for a celebration, and it didn’t matter one bit that it was before midday.

I strode to the kitchen, pulled a bottle of wine from the fridge and a packet of corn chips from the cupboard, and took them out to the balcony. Breathing in the glorious sea breeze, I poured my wine to the very top of the glass.

I held the glass up to my spectacular panorama. “Cheers.”

The wine was delicious. My view was magnificent. My body still glowed with glorious after-sex vibes.

Life was spectacular.

My first week as manager of the Hot Horizon Hotel had been incredible. Brandi from the executive committee had been teaching me some of the processes, and the two of us got on as if we’d known each other for years. We laughed a lot, and her management style was like nothing I’d ever experienced. It was fun yet informative, gentle yet firm.

Bailey, the guy who had been covering my shift on my nights off, was offered my old position of night manager, and he accepted, so he didn’t need much training for the role. For the final piece in the staffing puzzle, the executive committee appointed a lady named Tracy from the Brisbane hotel to replace Bailey’s position as our shift relief officer, and so far, she was proving to be perfect.

I was certain the executive committee would think my transition into hotel manager had gone smoothly. And after some further negotiation, I’d sacrificed a reduction in pay to work alternating five- and six-day weeks. For the first time in my working life, this week I had two days off, Sunday and Monday.

Life couldn’t get any better.

At least that’s what I thought until just after I’d devoured a couple of macadamia cookies for morning tea, Mason Cole, the guitarist from Empire Angels, walked through the sliding glass doors with four other people. I recognized his brother and Zenon Justice, whose name I’d never forget.

But I was pretty sure the two women who’d walked in with the men were different to the last time. These two were skinny, too skinny, if you asked me. They both had long, straight platinum hair, loads of makeup, and were scantily clad. Both had tattoos, but nowhere near as many as the last two women had had.

As they approached the counter, I wondered if they were identical twins.

I had to remind myself that I shouldn’t know who they were because Mason only met Memphis last time. “Welcome to the Hot Horizon Hotel.”

“Thanks. We’re booked in for tonight. Zenon Justice is my name.”

“Thank you, Mr. Justice.” As the men handed over their identification, I noticed how tired they all looked and wondered if they’d been up all night. “What brings you to the Gold Coast?”

“We’re in a band, Empire Angels. We got a gig tonight.” Zenon was their spokesman. One of the girls squished up to his side, cocked her head at me, and chewed on her gum with smacking lips.

I had a feeling she was staking her claim as if I were a threat. I turned to the photocopier, stifling a laugh at the absurdity of the idea. Zenon had absolutely no appeal. Mason, on the other hand, with his stunning eyes the color of deep-sea ice and his delicious lips, was the man I had my sights on.

An idea hit me like a bolt of lightning. This was my first free Saturday night in years, and it was time I experienced Saturday nightlife like every other normal human being.

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