Page 11 of Something Real with the Sea Monster
“Of course.” Tegan holds out her hand for me to shake. “Done deal. How about I start on Monday? If you’ll excuse me, I’m gonna go grab something to eat. I didn’t eat breakfast yet, and I’m suddenly starving.”
I glance at my watch. There’s still an hour before most of the guests will start checking out. “Come down to The Snapperwith me and have something. You can show me how Instagram works. No time to learn like the present.”
When she smiles, there are little flecks of gold in her amber eyes. “Done and done. I hope they make a good eggs benny. I could murder some eggs.”
“I can’t believe you don’t have Instagram,” Tegan says around a mouthful of eggs. Then she stops and lets out a low moan which shoots straight to my groin, a fact I’m trying to ignore.
She unlocks her phone while I’m still collecting my thoughts and slides it toward me. “Go on. Open it.”
I press the icon and almost jump out of my seat when a picture of Tegan in strappy black underwear pops up on the screen. “Oh god. Sorry.” I avert my eyes—even though I really don’t want to—and push the phone back across the table.
She looks up from her eggs. “Sorry for what?”
I glance at the screen again, but the picture is still there, and now I realize she’s wearing a bikini rather than underwear. The effect on me is exactly the same. “I—you…” I clear my throat. “That’s a very good picture.”
She grins. “You like it? I used to have this dream I’d get enough followers to monetize. I got kind of addicted to taking the thirst trap pics.”
I blink. “Thirst trap?”
She laughs. “Don’t ask. You’ll learn soon enough once I get you addicted to socials. Anyway, why don’t you take a look through my feed and just familiarize yourself? It’s mostly pictures, sometimes video. I haven’t set mine up for the sort of thingsyou’d want to look at, but if you do a search, I bet we could find a few examples.”
We spend the next ten minutes with our heads bent over her screen while she shows me different features. She’s just finished showing me an immaculately curated profile for a day spa just out of town when a notification drops down over the top of her screen and she hesitates.
aj4C45: ur ass looks like it needs a pounding. Cum sit on my cock
Who the hell does this asshole think he is?
Tegan just sighs. “Hang on.” She opens the message, and I’m expecting her to block the guy straight away. Instead she hits reply:I might if I thought it would be worth my time. I get the feeling I might not even notice there was anything there
I choke back a laugh. “You don’t pull any punches, do you?”
“Why? Don’t tell me you think I was too mean.”
“No. I like it. But I get the feeling you’ve had to deal with crap like that before.”
She just shrugs. “Comes with the territory. To be honest, I’d probably get stupid comments no matter what sort of pictures I posted. The internet is full of idiots.”
That doesn’t sit well with me, but it’s not my place to say anything, so I keep quiet. By the time my phone rings with the first check out, I’m feeling a hell of a lot more motivated to open a social media account, but to my shame that has far more to do with wanting another look at Tegan’s picture and a lot less to do with seeing how I could use it to grow the business.
SEVEN
Tegan
The Inlet Views really is gorgeous. Admittedly some of the decor is a little dated. Not in a bad way. It’s almost retro. It was clearly nicely done when it was done. The built-in bookcases in each room are so clever, and the striped fabric on the couches is pretty cute. It’s a lot to have it on the armchair and the sofa, but that was the ’90s. Matchy matchy. I remember my parents had this hideous floral sofa that was the height of pastel fashion. My mom loved it so much.
I snap a heap of pics and selfies for the ’gram as Jack gives me the tour. I can’t wait to post. All my friends will be so jealous of my detox retreat. They don’t need to know I’m here licking my wounds after being dumped.
I don’t mean to spend the whole morning at Inlet Views, but somehow Jack and I get talking, and when he has to go back to reception to check out guests I sort of tag along. I don’t have anything else to do since Mia is busy today, and I like Jack. I like the way he listens when I have something to say. I’m afraid that means I do a lot of talking, but he doesn’t seem to mind.
While he’s busy, I go back to room three and take pictures of the view from the balcony from every possible angle. I do a thorough assessment of the website and make notes from the closest competitors in the area. Then I watch Jack check out the last guests who are leaving today.
“What’s the plan for the rest of today?” he asks the chic couple in their early sixties who stayed three nights in room one.
They look at each other with a smile. “We’re heading up the coast. We haven’t decided where we’ll stay tonight. We heard good things about a place up at Mollymook, but they’re booked out for months.”
Jack checks their booking and shows me how to tell whether it was paid in advance. This couple didn’t, so he gets out the machine for them to scan their credit card. “You know, there’s a little place up at Lake Conjola. It’s small, but I know the owner. It’s a historic homestead that’s been converted. Lake views and you’ll see every star in the night sky, it’s so quiet out there.”
The couple give each other another look. “Well that sounds amazing. We might have to check it out.”
