Page 5

‘I’m sorry, I can’t seem to find your name…’

‘Lennox. Lily Lennox.’ I’m trying to keep my cool, and it’s normally not quite this labour-intensive, but today has already been a lot– and it’s only ten o’clock.

I’m sweaty, tired from my red-eye and the bumpy half-hour ride across the island, and all I want to do is crash in my room for the rest of the day.

It was definitely a mistake to let myself doze on the shuttle bus– napping always makes me foggy, and it can be hard to shake.

Which just goes to show that choices matter. Thank you Mr Sartre, etc.

‘Is Vic here?’ I say. ‘Vic knows me.’ Vic is the Executive Manager of the Riovan and has been for as long as I’ve been working here.

It’s not like Vic and I are best buds or anything, but after four years reporting to the guy, I can say I know him pretty well.

I know his office pretty well too, since I break in every year. He uses a really nice air freshener.

‘You’re not here… I don’t see you here…

’ The blond guy behind the desk in the small Staffing Resources office is young– twenty-two?

He exudes a particular brand of lethargic irritation that says, I’m not sure if I care enough to solve this problem for you.

He’s called Nick, according to his name tag.

Even though I assume his job keeps him in this little office most of the day, he looks like he could be a fitness instructor himself; all the staff do.

Including me, I’m aware. I know that’s why they keep hiring me…

though at twenty-nine, I’m at the older end of the spectrum, and trust me, I’m counting the time until I’m told, Thank you for your application, however, we’ve already filled the position .

But for this year, I’m still young enough, still on-brand enough.

I wait as Nick types. There’s… a lot of typing.

I shift my weight and look around the small office.

The only change from last year is a big framed poster that I recognize from the Riovan’s recent ad campaign.

A woman in a yellow bikini is doing yoga on diamond-white sands, her hair blowing sideways, the ocean a luminescent smear of green behind her.

Bold white letters proclaim, Your Best Self Starts at the Riovan.

I have to work to keep my face neutral, since I don’t think the puking face I actually want to make is appropriate.

Still typing. Is he writing a novel?

‘Lennox,’ I say. ‘That’s L-E—’

‘Found you.’ He smiles. ‘Looks like you’ll be in the poolside block– I mean, Vista West. Welcome back, and let me get your key activated.’ He pulls a plastic key card out of a small drawer.

Um, no.

I coax a smile on to my face. ‘Listen… Nick? There must be some mistake. I’ve worked here for… a lot of years. And I always have an oceanside room.’

‘Sorry, this year you’ll be in Vista West,’ he over-enunciates, like I’m either hard of hearing or an idiot.

Keep smiling. I have a good smile. I’ve done a lot with this smile.

‘I get that this is probably an annoying request. But I’ve always, always had an oceanside room. I know it might take a minute to switch me, but I don’t mind waiting.’

Nick’s face is frozen in a smile drawn so tight, it might start twitching any second.

‘Miss Lennox,’ he says. ‘Lily. You come here every summer. I get that. That’s so great.

Retention! Yay. But. This year, we remodelled the East Suites.

For guests. They face the ocean and the sunrise, as you are obviously aware.

’ He extends the key card. ‘B-T-W, there’s a fifty-dollar replacement charge for lost keys. ’

‘There sure is,’ I say without taking the key, still smiling even though my pulse feels loud and erratic in my head. This is not how things are supposed to go. I snap my hair tie. I should let it go. I just got here; I can’t die on this hill.

Just take the card , I tell my stubborn hand, which appears to have clenched itself into a fist at my side—

‘If it isn’t Lily Lennox, our most faithful employee! You deserve an award, girl. So good to have you back!’ A short man with gelled hair and a face like an ultra-bronzed Roman emperor is leaning into the office with a tablet in hand.

‘Vic!’ Thank God. ‘Listen, I’m sorry to be a pain, but there’s a situation with the rooms—’

‘I know.’ He hisses out a frustrated breath through his teeth.

‘Your roommate hasn’t shown up yet! It turns out she went and missed her flight, can you believe it?

So, good news, it’ll be just you for tonight in the room; bad news, we’re going to need you to step in and cover for her.

’ He tilts his head and purses his lips.

‘I hate to do this, but can you be on the beach at two o’clock? Is that going to be OK?’

No, it’s not OK. I’m supposed to be in my usual room, facing the ocean, with twenty-four hours to unwind and acclimatize and deal with all the feelings I know are coming, because I do this every year, and I know the process, my process—

‘Two?’ I repeat with a bit of an incredulous laugh. ‘I don’t even have my gear yet—’

‘You can pick that up right away from Supplies. There’s a new swimsuit this year, and some really cute branded sweats.’ Vic’s words spatter me like hot oil. I snap the elastic, snap it, snap it harder. ‘It’s all branding all the time this year, we’ll go over it later in our staff training—’

‘Vic,’ I cut in– too forcefully, I realize, but I smear on a smile like a hasty layer of icing dragged over a botched cake and forge ahead. ‘You know I always stay in the East Suites—’

‘Oh, yes, right, but not this year. We flip-flopped staff to the back– complete redo. We updated the rooms– the guests get the sunrise– and of course we needed new plumbing because of—’ He flushes like he said something he didn’t mean to.

Like a slap, it hits me what he’s talking about. What happened last year.

‘Because that’s the hotel biz, we gotta keep things fresh,’ Vic finishes in a kind of cheerful panic.

His phone rings and he holds up a silencing finger at me.

‘Yes, hello? Mr Thorpe, what a pleasure. Yes, the inspector approved everything—’ He makes an apology face at me before walking brisky away.

I can hear his voice retreating down the hall.

‘Yes, by the end of the summer it will all be PVCs, as we discussed…’

‘What’s up with the plumbing?’ I ask Nick, gesturing to where Vic just disappeared, trying not to panic over the fact that what happened last year is still something Vic is dealing with. I fucked it up , I tell myself. But no, if I had truly fucked it up, I wouldn’t be here, right? ‘New pipes?’

Nick gives me an annoyed shruggy head-shake, like he’s saying, How should I know, and why exactly do we care?

Which reminds me, I shouldn’t make a bigger deal of this than it is.

So they’re still replacing the older hotel plumbing?

Fine. That doesn’t mean they’re still investigating the accident.

I remind myself that it’s hard to get contractors out here on the island– I’ve heard Vic complain about it a million times.

Also, it’s not like they can shut down the entire Riovan to replace all the old metal drainpipes at once.

They’d have to do it slowly, so as not to lose revenue.

‘Your key,’ Nick says, and maybe there’s not smug satisfaction in his tone, but you know what, I choose to read that into it anyway, because I just need to hate someone a little bit right now.

The key is smooth and cool in my hand. Sweat trickles down my chest. Lily zero, Riovan one.

‘What’s the number?’

‘Room 2-2-0-8,’ says Nick. ‘See you at staff training tonight.’