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“Hello, young lady.” I managed to block someone in a Blitz hoodie as she snuck through from the restaurant. How on earth she’d made it past Mabel was beyond me until I saw them holding onto another girl, who was crying her eyes out.
I got it, of course I did. Blitz were the biggest band on the planet, and I’d had the absolute honour of having dealt with them before. The lead singer, who only ever went by the name Dieter but was actually called Graham, I’d discovered that little fact when I’d once had to courier his passport to Heathrow, was actually down-to-earth and pretty ordinary. It was hard to believe, looking at the mayhem all around me. Rolling my eyes, I swiftly deposited the trespasser into Reuben’s stern care and then herded the bunch of teenage boys at the heart of said mayhem across the lobby as more screaming came from the doorway. Two more mature ladies intercepted and blatantly ignored my “Excuse me!” as I pushed the boys into the lift and more selfies were taken. I was quite sure my ugly mug would be plastered all over Instagram within the hour, but that was currently the least of my concerns.
“Who’s missing?” I demanded of the five blank faces staring back at me.
“Bash,” one of them said. I had no idea which one he was and didn’t have time to ask, as the lift doors were closing. I quickly thrust my arm throughthe gap, grabbed the poor bloke outside, getting blinded by mobile phone flashes, and dragged him in with us. Bash stared at me balefully from underneath an oversized hat.
The doors closed, and I yapped into my radio, hoping someone would pick up on where I was because this wasn’t my first rodeo with big pop bands, and I still had scars from the Korean pop sensations who’d trashed our entire first floor in the summer. Not the pop sensations themselves—they’d been surprisingly well behaved—but some protesters had clashed with a horde of fans in the corridor, and we’d had to close the entire floor for a week to get the walls repainted and the carpet changed.
Security. We needed them and we needed them FAST.
“Claire!” I shouted in relief as the doors opened.
“Hey, boys!” She grinned, immaculately presented as always. Claire ran our rooftop bar, an intimate space with views over the entire city. And she was not to be messed with, as evidenced by the bloke wearing a Blitz hoodie she’d secured in a neck hold.
“You okay?” I called at her as I shepherded the boys into the bar. She waved her free hand at me. Of course she was okay. Claire was six foot tall and a three times martial arts Olympic gold medal winner in a previous life. I was more concerned for the poor Blitz fan who was waving his arms around in some distress.
The rooftop bar was, as Finn had anticipated, empty, the outside space glistening in the pale sunshine, the inside comfortable seating showing signs of Claire’s immaculate touch, every cushion perfectly plumped, the tables wiped into submission, our signature metal coasters stacked neatly against the mirrored backdrop. Claire had locked everything up, whichwas great, except I needed to offer these guys a drink and keep them from causing a total disaster.
“Hey, man. What’s your name?” asked the one known as Cork. I remembered him, although the writing on his tour jacket gave it away.
“Hugo,” I said with a smile, in my head saying,Fuck off, Cork, and go sit down.Picking up an ice pick from the side, I jammed it forcefully into the side of the fridge door. Basic tricks, we all knew them. It wasn’t like we had high-quality equipment up here, and Engineering would come pop the fridge door back on its hinge later. I grabbed a bottle of milk and put it on the counter.
“You making tea?”
I turned and found Cork grinning broadly at me.
“With proper milk?”
“Man, proper milk.” Bash sighed, looking more excited than a bottle of milk warranted. “We’re sponsored by The Almond Cow on this tour, and we’re banned from any dairy products.”
That explained it.
“You’ll have to make it quick, though, before Lauren comes up here.”
“Lauren is our manager.”
“Well, more like our babysitter.”
“Can I have sugar in mine? Two sugars. I miss sugar.”
“Don’t tell Lauren, she’ll have a fit.”
I knew Lauren. As I said, I’d dealt with these guys before, and not only were two of them underage, but the entire band was on a complete alcohol ban and strict restricted diets. We’d had the full brief from Finn and had to order in all these special products to satisfy the contract for their stay.
“So six teas with milk. One with two sugars,” Bash summed up.
The boys all stared at me, a mix of guilt and mischief written all over their faces.
“Can we?” one of them said.
“We’ve been off dairy for two months now. We’d be super grateful.”
I shouldn’t have, but they were just kids, and it made my stomach clench.
So…with one eye on the lifts, I made the tea and sent a text to Finn telling him to keep that Lauren downstairs but to get someone up to guard the floor. I used mugs because fuck it. I doubted the boys would appreciate Claire’s intricate teacups and saucers, and anyway, they were nice kids.
“Tea’s up,” I said, and they sat themselves along the bar, all eyes trained on me as I snuck some biscuits out of a tray and into the boys’ grabby hands.
