Page 2 of The Other Side of Paradise
“She was pretty.”
I shot him a look. “What, are you interested in her too, now?”
He smiled wider. “And the magic word,too…”
Oh… busted. I withered, hanging my head before I looked out across the lobby, anywhere but at him.
The place itself was gorgeous. I couldn’t complain about the scenery. And not just as in a beautiful guest. I’d worked here last year, too—been right here behind this very desk, looking out across the luxe building with its polished floors and glimmering chandeliers, cream-white couches and full-wall windows, a little taste of luxury out here on paradise island.
Paradise islandwas kind of what I’d expected when I’d arrived last year, anyway. Summer break from uni and not wanting to go back to my parents for another argument about my future, my audacity to go into the arts, or about my audacity to be a lesbian, I’d gone on a whim after seeing a promo post for it online. I’d kind of thought it was just a dumb scam, but I’d had nothing better to do, so I’d applied, and apparently it wasn’t a scam, just that tourist businesses in far-flung places like this had a hard time staffing for tourist season. So I’d sent my parents a text telling them I was working for the summer instead, and I ignored their blowups, hopped on a plane, and set out with my head full of fantasies of cute girls in bikinis around me while I swam out in the ocean waves.
Turned out it didn’t work that way. Working here was a little less glam than visiting here, with entitled asshole guests yelling at me while I had to wear a stuffy uniform and keep on a smile. Getting berated by the worst people in the world almost drove me out, a week and a half in and a resignation letter in hand, but I’d chickened out for just long enough to meet Brooklyn, one of the resort bartenders, and it was the night I met her that I wound up at her beachfront house, sitting out back while she made me pizza and commiserated on how much customers sucked sometimes.
Took about five minutes after making friends with Brooklyn before I’d been friends with half the staff—Brooklyn was a mainstay of the entire resort staff, just by virtue of being the only one who liked her job—and I actually ended up enjoying the place before long. Wouldn’t have stuck out that first summer here if it hadn’t been for her, let alone coming back for a second one, renting one of the bungalows just down the street from Brooklyn’s place this time. She bullied me for not knowing how to talk to girls, but I did everything in my power to bully her back, and even though I’d never admit it to her face, she was the best friend in the whole world.
Still, though, zero chance I was ever telling her about Stella Valerie Bell and the heart attack she gave me.
I turned back to Gavin with a sigh. “Okay, yeah, you got me,” I said. “I was having a meltdown over a cute girl. Do me a favor and slot in for me if she’s ever coming around to the desk again?”
He smiled wide enough it would make the Cheshire Cat’s cheeks ache just looking at it. “And deprive myself of the joy of seeing you flub it when a girl looks at you?”
I elbowed him under the desk, laughing despite the heat in my face. “I’ll report you to management. Bullying and harassment.”
“I’d just tell the managers how much you were all heart-eyes looking at Miss Stella Bell and they’ll understand.” The phone rang on the desk, and he clapped a hand on my shoulder, picking it up off the receiver. “Guess I’ll take this and stop bullying you for now. But I look forward to hearing if you get Stella’s number.”
“Get her number?To do what with, embarrass myself in text?”
He smiled at me, letting that say everything—answered the phone and turned away, and I scowled at him before turningback to the older couple approaching the desk, and I put on my customer service smile and handled the situation while I watched the clock tick on and felt my feet ache from standing on them since six this morning.
Which meant I was already tired and grouchy enough even before a woman tried, as matter-of-factly as anything, to redeem her Hilton bonus points for her stay. Which posed the small problem of that this wasn’t a Hilton.
“I’m sorry, ma’am, but we don’t have any Hilton partnerships, so I’m afraid we can’t accept the points,” I said, infinite-patience voice fully activated even though infinite patience itself was not activated in the slightest. The woman scowled at me, an older woman with wispy white hair and a frame no taller than mine.
“Well, call it whatever you like,” she said. “But I’d like to redeem the points, anyhow.”
“Er.” I blinked, putting on a thin smile. “Yes, well, of course. It’s just that that’s a different account, with a different company, so… do you happen to have one with us?”
She waved me off. “Why would I? It’s my first time being here.”
“Well, welcome,” I said brightly. “I’ll be happy to help you set up an account to start accruing bonus points now—”
“Oh, spare me,” she said. “I’m not about to let you upsell me while I’m just trying to redeem my own points. I’m using these.”
“Ma’am—” I caught myself, breathing in once and out once, repeating my mantra ofone more hour left,and I renewed my smile. “Of course, I’d love to help you with that. I just… well. The points aren’t for our company. They’re only valid for Hilton brand hotels.”
“So call them,” she said, like I was the one missing out on the obvious. “Work it out. I’m not going to a Hilton. I’m going here.”
Just when I’d started thinking I’d make it to clocking out without some weird bullshit happening. I tapped at my screen, just to look at something other than Problem Guest number seventy million for the morning. “Can you give me the name you’ve booked under, ma’am?”
“It’s under my daughter’s name, Elizabeth Bell. We’re all staying here.”
Ah—Jesus Christ. Stella’s family. I locked up, and it took everything I had to keep a straight face, pretend like I was normal. I desperately did not want Stella getting involved in this, not when I’d shut down at her being around. “Ah… yes, I see your reservation here,” I said absently, and see it I did—twenty-one people all under one reservation. “Could you give me your name?”
She frowned. “Am I not on the reservation?”
“I’m sure you are, ma’am, I just need your name.”
“It should be right there.”
