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McTavish told me the film’s production company had rented out the entire resort, so no one had to worry about their privacy. I can’t imagine who could be important enough to justify chucking the actor playing Banquo out of his cabin… and then, all of a sudden, Ican.
I can understand only too well.
Because standing in the door of the clubhouse, surrounded by Louis Vuitton luggage and a small entourage of assistants, are Jett’s parents.
And, just like that, my day abruptly goes evenfurtherdownhill.
***
“You’ve got to understand, Hazel. It’s not that I’mrefusingto do it; it’s that I literallycan’tdo it. McTavish told me I had tostay away from Violet. Look, if you just call him, I’m sure he’ll tell you himself.”
Hazel stares at me, unimpressed by my pleas. It’s a couple of hours later, and, having suffered through the abject humiliation of having to check-in Charles and Gabriella Carter (Who, lest we forget, are the couple I once thought might one day be in my in-laws…) into the complex, I’m now trying to explain to my boss why I absolutely cannot work the bar tonight, too.
I justcan’t.
“Surely there must be someone else who can do it?” I beg, when Hazel doesn’t speak. “I’m telling you, Hazel, literally anyone would be better than me. You could do it. The chef could do it. Hell, the porter who took the suitcases to their room could do it.”
“I’m askingyouto do it, though, Lexie,” says Hazel, speaking as if to a small child. “Because it’s your job. All the other people you just mentioned have their own jobs to do. Plus, we’re short-staffed again. You’re the only one here who’s trained to work the bar.”
She folds her arms across her chest, as if she’s daring me to challenge her on this.
“You don’tneedtraining to pour wine into glasses,” I begin, taking the bait. “Anyone could do it.”
“Great,” says Hazel triumphantly. “Off you go then.”
Shit. I really shot myself in the foot there, didn’t I?
Wait! My foot! That’s it!
“But my ankle,” I wail, pointing at it. “I can barely walk on it. How am I supposed to carry drinks? What if I drop something? What if Ispillsomething? You wouldn’t want that now, would you?”
I widen my eyes appealingly.
“You’ll be standing behind the bar,” says Hazel, unmoved. “You don’t even have to move. Use one of the bar stools, if youlike. Look, Lexie.” She sighs, exasperated. “They might not even come into the bar. They probably won’t. They’re having dinner with some journalist, as far as I know, and then they’ll probably be tired after their flight. Whatever they do, though, what I needyouto do is get behind the bar and do your job. It really shouldn’t be too much to ask. Especially after what happened today. You owe me one; remember?”
For just a second, I’m not sure which part of “what happened today” she’s referring to. Is it the part where I caught Jett and Violet kissing in the woods? The part where I met both of the men who claim to be my father? Oh no, wait: it’s the bit where she trusted me to deliver food to the film set, and I twisted my ankle and had to be taken home instead, isn’t it?
Gotchya.
“I’ll do it for now,” I tell Hazel reluctantly. “But please just call McTavish and tell him there’s a chance Violet might see me.Please, Hazel.”
“Sure,” she says, sounding like she has absolutely no intention of doing this. So I hobble over to the bar and perch on one of the stools, where I quickly send him a message of my own.
VIOLET EATING IN RESTAURANT TONIGHT WITH JETT AND PARENTS. WHAT DO I DO?!?!?
I add another few question marks, just in case my panic isn’t being adequately communicated by the ones I’ve already used, then go back to thinking about this afternoon, when Charles Carter and I came face to face after the now infamous incident in which I called him a 'bawbag'.
Which heis, to be fair.
Of course, when he saw me behind the reception desk at Emerald View, Charles pretended not to recognize me. Hewoulddo that. It was only when Jett’s Mum, Gabriella, said, “Why, isn’t this Lexie?” in that vague, slightly spaced-out way of hers, that he made a big show of doing a double-take, beforerubbing his eyes in astonishment, as if I’d changed almost beyond recognition.
It’s only a few weeks’ worth of root growth, Charles. Calm the hell down.
“Well, so it is,” he drawled, smirking. “The ‘bawbag’ herself. Well, well.”
I refused to flinch at the reference to my viral faux pas. I was glad of it, actually. At least it meant we’re not going to pretend to be friends. That really would be beyond my acting capabilities.
I somehow managed to get them checked in without messing anything up, and called over one of the porters to take the luggage to their cabin — not that he was needed, mind you; the Carters don’t go anywhere without an entire team of staff, who’ll presumably also all have to check into the Travelodge once they’ve got them settled in.
