AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Oh shit, this is much worse than I thought. He’s going to let me go. He’s trying to build up to it gently but that is definitely where this is heading. I’m in big, big trouble. If he lets me go, word will quickly get out that Voyages Luxes has dropped me, and it won’t be long before my other work dries up too. This is the worst part of being a freelance journalist; it takes years of hard graft to climb the greasy pole to the point where you can make a decent living, but only one fuck-up to send you straight back to the bottom again. It’s like a game of snakes and ladders, only without any ladders. I blink back the tears that I can feel forming. I’ve worked so hard to get to where I am, it seems grossly unfair that a single hotel review can undo it all. I focus all my energy on maintaining my composure.
“I’m sorry,” he continues. “You know how highly I rate you as a writer, but ever since Peter Smallbone drew this to my attention, I’ve been put in an impossible situation.”
Peter ‘drew it to his attention’, did he? I bet he was positively salivating with glee at the prospect of bringing me down. Bastard. What is his problem with me anyway?
No. No fucking way. I’m not going to take this lying down. I’m not going to let my career be wrecked by someone like Peter bloody Smallbone. My mind is whirling, desperately trying to think of a way to save this. I need something, and fast. If I let him get to the end of what he wants to say it’ll be too late.
The glimmer of an idea starts to form, and I grab it. It isn’t great, but it’s all I’ve got to work with. When you’re drowning, you’ll grasp at anything to keep your head above water, and this is how I feel right now.
“Do you ever wonder,” I venture, “whether the review process is fundamentally flawed? Whether we should be doing it completely differently?”
This is enough to throw him off track and buy me the precious seconds I need to try to put some flesh on the very bare bones of my idea. I’ve got to pitch like I’ve never pitched before, and without any time to prepare. Not ideal, but it’s amazing how impending disaster allows your mind to focus.
“What do you mean?” he asks.
“Think about it,” I reply. “The hotel invites reviewers to come. They know who we are and when we’re arriving. They lay on the famil to guide us to all the stuff they want us to see, and they give us the best rooms. The staff are doubtless instructed to be especially nice to us. In this instance, the hotel hadn’t even opened its doors to the public when I stayed; all the guests were journalists, so it was even easier for them to create a good impression. They were probably at no more than twenty percent capacity, so it wasn’t hard for them to put on a convincing show, and I bought it. I expect the others did too. Have you looked at other reviews from the time?”
Mark fiddles with his laptop and brings up a search page. Before long we’ve looked at a series of reviews of the same hotel from other travel magazines and blogs. We don’t read them in depth, but we read the summaries and, like mine, they are universally positive. I recognise the names of most of the authors and they’ve all been around for a while, like me.
“What are you suggesting?” he asks.
“Why don’t I go back there, but incognito this time?”
Mark sits back in his chair, tilts his head back and stares at the ceiling. I’ve seen him do this before when he’s thinking, so I sit and wait. My heart is in my mouth; it’s no exaggeration to say that my whole future hangs on his next words. After what feels like an age, he tilts his head forward again and his eyes meet mine.
“Go on,” he says.
