Page 96 of Tame Me

While I was in front of my closet, I plucked out the dress I’d wear later for Hunter. When he’d phoned earlier this week, I couldn’t believe my luck. He wouldn’t be available until about nine o’clock tonight, and if all went to plan and the work Christmas party wrapped up at eight-thirty, that would give me just enough time to get back up to my room to change into my Memphis disguise.

My sadness over Billy had dissipated with Hunter’s call, and I hadn’t stopped smiling since. I brushed my teeth, touched up my makeup, styled my hair, and grabbed my room key to return to the party.

The elevator doors opened to Coldplay blaring out their “Christmas Lights” song from the bar, and I smiled as raucous laughter erupted. I stepped around the corner to see dozens of hotel staff watching Dan from the Horizons gym walk across the room and flicking his non-existent hair as if impersonating someone. They all laughed again, and I joined in as I strolled into the bar. “What’s going on?” I asked Tania.

“Dan’s pretending to be John.”

I chuckled, even though I didn’t see the resemblance.

“Knock. Knock.”

I turned to the voice and waved the chef over. “Thank you so much,” I said as Wyatt, the chef from the Blue Haven Café, carried two trays toward us.

“You’re welcome. Any time.” He placed the trays down. “I’ll just get the other two.”

I peeled off the silver foil to reveal an assortment of pastries, tarts, and meatballs. Hopefully Wyatt’s savory cooking was as delicious as his sweet treats I enjoyed every week.

“Oh, yummy.” Peter reached for a meatball and dipped it into the red sauce at the side. It was the first time I’d seen him smile, and I liked what I saw. As the hotel cleaner, he probably didn’t get much joy at work.

“Okay, who’s up for a Slippery Nipple?” Pete had lined up shot glasses on the bar.

“Hey, who authorized those?” I attempted my best scowl at the bar manager.

Pete wriggled his bushy eyebrows. “It’s a party.”

Nora nudged her shoulder to me. “Just one?”

“Okay, just one.” Her pleading voice had me giving in. Not that I tried really hard.

As Pete layered the Baileys Irish Cream and butterscotch schnapps into the shot glasses, Wyatt returned with another two trays of food. I thanked him again, and after he walked away, I peeled off the silver foil to reveal an assortment of sushi, cheeses, and cold meats on one, and the other loaded with sweet treats.

“Make a toast, Jane,” Marjorie said.

“Oh, ummm.” A shot glass was shoved into my hand. As everyone turned my way, my mind scrambled over something inspirational to say.

I sucked in a quick breath and held up my glass. “I know how hard you all work to make our beautiful hotel a success, and I know the last couple of years have lacked in acknowledgments of your dedication. But I plan to change that. I love working here, and I hope that you all do too.”

“We do now,” Tania said.

“Yeah, it’s already better now that you’re in charge,” Nora said.

“Thank you. Merry Christmas, guys, and I look forward to a wonderful new year working with you all. Cheers.”

“Cheers,” they said in unison, and together, we all shot our drinks down our throats. I gulped the sweet liquid and placed my glass on the table.

During the next couple of hours, as we drank a few more drinks and ate the delicious food, I made a point of talking to each staff member individually. Although we’d essentially worked under the same roof for years, other than Marjorie, I barely knew any of them. It was something I intended to change.

Several guests checked in during our party, and each time Marjorie made her way to the counter, I prayed she didn’t breathe on them. Fortunately, her shift finished soon, and then Bailey would start his shift. I’d been watching him, and other than the shot he’d had earlier, he’d been holding onto the same beer for most of the evening. Unlike Tracy, the new staff member from Brisbane—she’d had more drinks than I could count, yet she barely showed any signs of inebriation.

I’d be flat on my back if I’d had as many as she had.

A teenage girl came bounding into the bar and wrapped her arms around Marjorie. “Hey, Mom.”

“Roxanne. You’re here already.”

“It’s nearly eight o’clock.” Marjorie’s daughter smiled up at her mother, and I recognized their likeness. Russell, her son, strolled to his mother’s side, and by contrast, he looked nothing like Marjorie.

“Hey everyone, these are my kids, Roxanne and Russell.”

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