Then I told them of my plans for the club, emphasising how important they were to the success. One of the girls, Lily (they had all chosen English names when they joined the hotel) listened carefully. I had watched her over the previous few weeks, always working diligently and completing any task I set her. She was just over five foot tall, with waist length black hair and cheekbones that you could ski off. She was stunning. Her English was excellent and she seemed to garner respect from the other girls. I decided she would be the assistant manager. It had already been explained to me that all the hotel staff received the same salary, regardless of position, so the only reward for promotion was more responsibility, more hassle and more work. I hoped that Lily would embrace the challenge and was relieved when she did. Another beacon of optimism.
We allocated the duties in the outlet – hostesses, cashiers, waitresses – trying to meet everyone’s preferences where we could. In the main, they seemed happy with their roles. Third little nugget of positivity!
I then set about training them in meeting, greeting, serving and attending to the guests. Gradually, they warmed to me as I tried to get to know them all individually. Every day I would separate them into two groups: one group role-playing as guests, the other serving them. They learned quickly and by two nights before the grand opening, when we had a small staff gathering to celebrate the completion of the refurbishment and thank them for all their work, we were ready.
I’d just served the first glass of non-alcoholic punch (the girls didn’t drink alcohol) when an apparition filled the doorway. He was five foot ten, with blonde curly hair cut short at the sides and long at the back, wearing black leather trousers and a white vest over his skinny frame. He wore more jewellery than H. Samuels and his jaws chewed on gum as he swaggered towards me. He looked like the founder member of the Bee Gees fan club.
‘I’m Zac Storm, babe,’ he announced, taking my hand as he bowed to kissed it. ‘DJ to the stars.’
Oh. Dear. God.
‘Show me the decks and I’ll get spinning.’
I’d rather have shown him the door and let him get walking. The staff looked on in barely concealed amazement. Zac mistook it for adoration.
‘All right, goddessess?’ he winked at them.
They nodded in bemused silence.
As he waltzed up to the DJ booth, carrying his record case, I gave the girls a weak smile.
Lily spoke up.
‘Miss Carly, maybe I be wrong, but he looks like a… What is right word? Oh yes, he looks like a cockhead.’
I cackled with laughter and surprise. I’d never heard any of the girls swear. They were always impeccably mannered and reserved.
‘A dickhead, Lily,’ I corrected her through the giggles. ‘And I think you could be right.’
Zac stopped the music and dimmed the lights. At least he knew his way around a mixing desk, I thought. There was prolonged silence. On second thoughts, maybe he didn’t. I was just about to send him back and demand a refund under a law that prohibits impersonating a DJ, when the spotlights flashed onto the dance floor. There was a rumble from the speakers, then James Brown’s ‘I Feel Good’, so loud it could wake every guest in the hotel. I raised an eyebrow. Maybe this guy wouldn’t be such a disaster after all.
The next day, I joined the other managers at lunch for the first time. With the exception of Jack, who was taking a keen interest in the refurbishment, I’d had no time to hang out with them over the previous weeks, too busy with my opening preparations to think about socialising.
Chuck, Linden, Dan and Arnie had popped in every day for a quick chat and to see how I was doing and I looked forward to their visits. It was great to speak to anyone who understood what I said first time around. In saying that, my staff were showing distinct signs of Scottish accents. Only yesterday, I’d heard Lily call the painter a ‘tosser’. She was a quick learner.
As I placed my napkin over my lap, I covered the noise of Olga’s growling with an invitation to the opening the next night. I also took the guys up on their offer to take me out and show me the local sights. That night would be the last night off I’d have for the foreseeable future, so I happily accepted. It was time to sample the hidden delights of my new home.
Dan, Arnie, Chuck, Linden and Jack whisked me into a taxi.
‘Where are we going? Somewhere glam, I hope.’
‘Oh yes,’ Linden replied. ‘It’s very glam.’
Twenty minutes later, we drew into a dingy back alley and they ushered me out. I looked up at a dilapidated sign over a blacked out shopfront. ‘The Angel Bar’. It didn’t look very heavenly to me. We went inside and I took an involuntary sharp intake of breath. It was a dive. It looked like a front room from the forties. Which was probably the last time it was decorated. I was rooted to the spot, but I wasn’t sure if that was through shock or the fact that my feet were stuck to the floor. In a corner was a makeshift bar, with a wizened old Chinese woman behind it. The guys introduced me.
‘This is Mama-San.’
This was obviously a test, I decided. Would I stay and drink in a total hovel? I suddenly realised that I hadn’t had a drink for two months and I needed one now. Badly!
‘I’ll have a tequila please, Jack. Make it a double. And
