Excerpted from The Art Hotel by Christine Brown. Copyright © 2023 by Christine Brown. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpt
The Art Hotel
PART I
He stood staring at it. The realisation hit him - he had a hotel. Shit. He walked through the doors with purpose, striding as best he could towards reception, imagining how it would look full of people and energy. Excitement and fear a heady mix coursing through him. He stopped. He looked to his right.
“What are you doing?”
“I’ve always wanted to hang from the chandeliers, so thought I’d have a go before the guests arrive.”
“Antonio, when someone says they’re hanging from the chandeliers, it doesn’t actually mean they’re literally hanging from them.”
He shook his head.
“Oh, never mind.”
Shit, this is what happens when you take on a clown as a PA. It seemed such a good idea at the time. Find someone completely different to compliment his personality, someone to bring another perspective to his life. Someone to bring some happiness to the day. Someone who knew what they were doing. That bit he’d somehow missed. Shit.
J was a dancer. Not a business owner. No, that’s not right - he was a dancer and now he wasn’t. Years of study and training, dreaming and striving were over in an instant. His first role as principal in the company was Don Quixote. Opening night and Act I was a dream, the audience was with him from the moment he appeared on stage and watched in awed silence at his incredible performance.
Act II began and the arrival of scene three, where the knight - J - mistakes the windmill for a giant and attempts to slay it. He is caught by one of the wings and is flung into the air. He falls unconscious at Sancho’s feet.
In rehearsal it had gone smoothly every time, yet on this, the opening night, it went so terribly wrong. Somehow the sail snapped off the windmill and flew into the air just as J was taking a leap. It sliced his leg off at the knee. Dance career over.
Workers’ compensation - millions of dollars - was awarded to him. Sadly, nothing could compensate him for the losses he had experienced, and as he sat staring at his bank account now overflowing with money he never dreamed of having, he felt that all too familiar bitter taste in his mouth. People would ‘give their right arm’ for all that cash, yet he. J Constantine had given his leg instead and felt nothing but grief. The money was nothing to him if he couldn’t do what he was meant to do, and that was to dance. Still, he was now rich and could create anything with it. What to do? The thought of starting a dance company or opening a school filled him with horror, so he decided to sit with it until the answer came to him. Answers often come from very unexpected directions and this is as it was for J.
He was down, rich but down. Thoughts flittered through his mind continuously until one landed squarely in front of him, demanding his attention. Since losing his career, he’d had time to look around and observe what was happening in the performing arts industry in all its forms. Great artists were scrambling to make ends meet, waiting for their next gig, and the closure of so many theatres and venues had forced everyone to find something, anything, to keep food on the table. There was no work and no joy. He was now sitting on a pile of cash, so what could he do to make it work for him and help others to get back, both a reason for getting out of bed and bring some joy to them. Then it came to him - a hotel. Who didn’t love a great hotel? I’ll just build a grandiose piece of fabulousness and then everyone can work with me. This is perfect.
Now sitting in his piece of fabulousness, complete with every little thing he had ever wanted to see in a hotel, J realised he now had a huge task on his hands to turn this edifice into a living breathing thing. List. He needed a list. Lists made sense of things. Dot points on a page. Worked every time. He sat at a desk in the office. He hadn’t yet decided which one was his, so landed on the closest one.
Coffee
Staff
Coffee
Advertising
Coffee
That’s it. He needed staff, particularly someone who could work the coffee machine in the restaurant.
Where to start? He’d never owned a business, never run anything more than a washing machine in his life, never considered being the boss of anyone or anything. But he was here now and if he wanted to get this hotel open, he needed help. He needed staff, but what kind of staff? How do you run a hotel if you’ve only ever stayed in one? You think about all the people you find when you’re in a hotel and go from there. Of course!
“Antonio! Grab some paper and a pen and follow me, we’ve got some organising to do.”
The two men stood outside the front of the hotel, J with his eyes closed and Antonio, pen poised.
“Ok, I’m going to shout out jobs and you’re going to write them down, then from there we’ll start interviewing people and get this hotel happening. Valet! Write it down Antonio - we need a valet or two to park cars.”
They walked through the doors and the jobs came thick and fast. “Porter, Concierge, Reception…and other front of house people, say Reception times 5.”
They walked into the restaurant;
“Maitre’d, waiters, bar staff, chefs, kitchen hands, dishwashers.”
After a couple of hours walking the hotel and grounds, a list, a very exhaustive one, had been made. Back in the office the two men stared at each other, both realising just how big this venture was and wondering whether either of them had the nous to pull it off. It somehow seemed a ridiculous endeavour, but here they were and they had to do something.
“Shit. Ok, let’s take a breath and think about this. It’s time to eat an elephant, and before you think I’ve lost my mind, let me tell you how we’re going to do it. An elephant is way too big to fit in your mouth in one go, obviously, so you have to eat it in parts - a little nibble on the trunk, a bite of the right ear, a munch on the tail - that sort of thing. This hotel is one big, wild, rampaging elephant at the moment, so we’re going to nibble, bite and munch until we’ve got it under control. Ok?”
“Oh, when you say it like that it all makes sense.”
Antonio had no idea what J was talking about but J was the boss, so he was just going to go with it,
“So boss, what part are we going to start with today?”
“I say we start on the trunk, yeah, let’s start there.”
With list in hand, J began matching the people he knew to the positions on the page. How hard could this be? He knew so many out-of-work performers; finding people to fill the jobs was going to be a breeze. Not wanting to listen to the little whisper from his imaginary critic who was trying to tell him something important and obviously negative, he began humming the overture to ‘The Nutcracker’. This drove Antonio crazy, but he knew better than to interrupt J while he was doing his thing. He patiently waited until the humming ceased and the ideas came forward.
Alright then, the key roles needed to go to principals - the leads, the stars, the divas - and then he could work down from there. Head Chef absolutely had to go to Teresa, while the Maitre’d gig was Olivier all the way. Head of Housekeeping had to be someone hard-core and bossy, and Doris was a perfect choice. As he filled in the list he felt lighter and excited and almost giddy with the realisation of his new life coming together.
He sat back with an air of satisfaction, a smile playing on his lips. This is it; this is the list of my people, and as he went down it he quickly realised he had to employ some with hospitality experience. Even he knew playing a role was nothing compared to doing an actual job, so he needed those who could somehow guide his creatives to be professional in their positions. Right, so that would be a real Chef, a Front-of-House Manager and Security. The rest was a piece of cake. Time to do some interviews.
“Antonio! Ring an agency and get some candidates for a Sous Chef, a Front- of-House Manager and a Security Manager. Then let’s do a ring around and organise a meeting in the atrium with everyone; it’s time to hand out some jobs!
It was 8.30 on a Monday night, and the atrium of the newest hotel in town was filled with artists, performers, production crew and front-of-house folk. Everyone was milling around, chatting to each other in anticipation as to what was going on. Many had worked together over the years, so the excitement in the room was electric. Some may not have known J personally, but they all knew his story. Now, standing in this building surrounded by industry mob, they all thought it meant the theatres were re-opening and they all had jobs. What that had to do with J and the hotel none of them knew, but just the thought of working again was unbelievably exciting.
J stood on the small bridge over the atrium stream. He looked out over the sea of faces and waited for them to quieten down. He stood completely still and waited. Eventually the conversations stopped and he had their attention. J began his pitch.
“Evening everyone, it’s so good to see you all again. It’s been an age since we were working together and most of us are still out of work. That’s why I’ve asked you here tonight. Since my accident I’ve had to re-think my career, and it’s been soul destroying, in all honesty. I’ve had a long time to consider what to do, and during that time I have watched as many of you, without an accident to blame, lost your work and opportunities to perform, and, I’m sure, wondering what the hell to do next to keep food on the table. Now you’re standing in a flash new hotel that’s about to open. Why? What’s that got to do with you, you may be wondering. Well, because I’m offering you all work. Not as performers, but in hospitality.”
There was a collective groan and a swell of muttering followed by loud expletives and a collective sigh of disappointment.
“Look, I know it’s not ideal, it’s not what we know and have trained for most of our lives, but this means we all get some money in our pockets and we all get to be together again. Just like you, I wish we were in a theatre getting ready for a show, but that’s not happening right now, so we have to look at alternatives to keep us sane and financially looked after. This is the only way I know of helping us all. I’m going to let that sink in for a moment. If this sounds like a ridiculous idea to you, I understand. I just want to help as many as I can to get through this terrible time and this is the way I can do it. If you’re up for it, stay and we’ll get down to how it all looks.”
J looked around at a sea of confused faces.
“I’ll be back in a few minutes. Anyone who is still here when I get back has a job. See you soon.”
He walked into the bar, threw back a scotch and allowed his adrenaline to settle down, with no idea just what to expect on his return. He replayed his speech to himself, wondering if it made sense. Should he have asked for questions? Should he have made it seem more exciting? Should he have given more notice? What if he walked back into the room to find it empty, then what was he going to do? In his mind, he was going to save everyone, and it was going to be wonderful. In reality, he may have just been fooling himself and none of his former colleagues and friends wanted to come on this crazy adventure with him. Taking a deep breath to calm his wildly beating heart, J made the long walk back into the atrium.
It was full. Completely full. As J stepped into the room, he was surrounded by people hugging him and laughing and shouting over each other in exuberant enthusiasm. These were his people and they’d come to ‘play’.
“Ok, so that’s a big yes! You can’t believe how happy you’ve all made me. It’s going to be okay and we’re together, so that’s huge. Now it’s time to get to work. Antonio is going to take over now. For those of you who don’t know, Antonio is my PA, which means he’s my right-hand man. He’s now going to talk you through the process as we see it. To be honest, I’m not sure how this is all going to look, but let’s treat it like another gig and strap on our dancing shoes and get our voices ready. The Art Hotel is happening.”
The last of his new staff members left the room. “Antonio, thank you. Thanks for being by my side and stepping up. You have helped me carry the weight of all this and never once said I was mad, even if you thought it. So thank you.”
“Oh J, I’ve always thought you’ve been mad, right from the start. I mean you employed a clown as your PA for God’s sake, so you have to be pretty insane. I’m just glad you haven’t fired me yet, because as we both know I’m pretty hopeless at this gig.”
“Ha! no more hopeless as I am as a big boss ‘hotelier’, so we’re even. Let’s hit the bar and I’ll buy you a drink, and we can talk about what happens next.”
“Shit, you mean we have to actually do something with all these people? Let’s hope we find supervisors who know what it takes to run a real hotel, or we could be in a little bit of trouble.”
DORIS
The phone rang. It was J.
“Hey, Doris, I heard about the theatre closing. Are you alright? I can’t believe another performing space has died and gone to heaven. I mean, man, what the fuck!”
“Oh, J it’s a shit show. The financiers just came in and closed us down without warning. No word from the General Manager. Nothing. We were left standing on the side of the road watching as they stripped everything out and bolted the doors. Many of us have been there for more than 20 years. I’ve got 15 people who worked under me, who are now jobless and scared shitless about what’s coming next.”
“Here’s what’s coming next. I am opening a new hotel and need staff. You are now my head of housekeeping, and your people are now working here too. They’ll be part of the Front of House team. The hotel address is 37 Pinter Lane, and let them know their first shifts starts tomorrow, with orientation at 8am. Oh, yeah, and I know 8am is a killer for us kind of folk, but it’s a new world, hon, and one we’re going to have to get used to. See you then.”
The theatre had closed its doors for the last time in January. It left many heartbroken, and none more so than the staff who ran it. With no other theatre work to fall back on, Doris and her colleagues were left scrambling to find anything to keep food on the table and the rent paid. She’d met J many years before when he was still in the corp de ballet. She’d watched him fly across the stage and into more and more roles, until the night he stood on the stage in his first role as principal dancer. Then it all ended. It was heartbreaking to witness and she was glad he’d reinvented himself, even if it was an outlandish kind of move.
Doris was the Head of Housekeeping, which was kind of funny, as cleaning was not really one of her strong traits. Being boss (and bossy) definitely was though, so she decided to throw herself into her new job and get her people to do what had to be done. If only she knew what actually had to be done! She’d stayed in plenty of hotels, so knew what the guest wanted and expected, so that was a good place to start. She sat at her desk staring at the blank screen…Mmmm, maybe I should write down the things I hate when I’m in a hotel and work back from there. Cool, good idea:
No fresh towels every day
Dirty bathroom
No extra toilet paper
No chocolate at turndown
No turndown!
Empty fridge
Cheap tea and coffee
No laundry service
Slow laundry service
Having to iron my own clothes
No 24-hour room service
Crappy food
Rude staff
No late check-out
No valet service
No concierge
No porter
No early check-in
Okay, some of these things weren’t housekeeping responsibilities, but they were important to a hotel, so she decided to pass the list to J. Meanwhile, she’d tackle what was her stuff and get on with getting her staff to do what she needed done. J hadn’t mentioned who her new staff were, but it didn’t matter. Thanks to him she had a job. Starting tomorrow.
TERESA
How long had she known J?
Their paths had crossed on many occasions, yet not as performers but as neighbours. They struck up a conversation in a supermarket one morning and then bumped into each other in a local cafe a few days later. From that, a friendship grew and a brunch was had when their schedules allowed it. J was a few years younger than Teresa, and she had watched him grow not only as an incredibly talented dancer, but as a man. He loved the world of performance in all its forms, and although ballet consumed most of his waking hours, his desire to immerse himself in all facets of theatre and the arts was incredible.
When the theatre world and live performances came crashing down around them, J rallied them all around, announcing he was opening a hotel and everyone would have work in some form or another. He had just lived through the painful loss of his profession and knew how it felt to be lost and frightened for the future, so this hotel was going to be the saving grace for them all. Now they just had to pull it off, without letting anyone realise they knew not what they were doing.
When J gave her the position of Head Chef she had laughed in his face and asked him if he realised just how ludicrous it was.
“J, you know I love food and you know I love good food, but how do you think that’s going to translate into knowing how to make it? I mean, I have no idea how to cook - the last time I was in my kitchen was to open a can of food for the cat. This will not end well.”
“Don’t worry Teresa, we’ll employ someone who does know how to cook and it’ll all work out. What would you rather be doing, working in the garden or cleaning the pool? No, I didn’t think so. It’s going to be okay. We’re a bunch of performers who make a living out of being people who we’re not, so this isn’t any different. It’s fine.”
The next day Teresa stood in the kitchen, dressed in her chef’s gear, heart a fluttering; the Head Chef of the restaurant. She looked around at the shiny stainless steel wonder that was her new stage, shaking her head and wondering how all of this was going to pan out. She’d lived for music and the opera for almost her entire life, and now standing here, she was left wondering how to reconcile this in her brain. Never in a million years had she considered anything other than song, yet now here she was trussed up in a chef’s uniform with a ridiculous hat on her head. She might be playing a part, but this wasn’t one she had ever aspired to.
Well, it was time to be strong and get into the role she hadn’t worked her whole life for, but was now playing anyway. She poked around the cupboards and cool room, opened the ovens and fiddled with the buttons. She lit the gas stoves and checked out all the equipment; most of which she had no idea how to use. She was definitely out of her depth and prayed that J found someone who not only knew what to do, but could deal with a complete novice masquerading as the boss. This was madness, but just a bit exciting. Having a reason to get out of bed every day did that for you, and Teresa knew just how lucky she was, so she decided to play the part until the actual chef arrived.Then she would woo them into submission and it would all be fine.
MARTIN
When the call came out for a Marketing person for the new hotel, Martin knew he was the right person for the job. Yes, he only did that stuff for fun, and no, he had never really done it seriously, but he loved getting people excited about new things, loved taking photos and writing pithy quotes for them, and simply adored social media.
He was Martin by day and Ms Kiki Martini through the night and as he stood in his bedroom getting ready to have a meeting with J, he was weighing up how to present himself. J had met Kiki before and loved her, but maybe going to work on his first day required something a little toned down. On the other hand, there was that saying “Start as you mean to go on”. He was torn.
Ten minutes later, dressed in a suit, Martin entered the
hotel with a contented smile on his face.
“Martin! You’re here. J told me you were going to look after the marketing for this behemoth of a place and I was so happy to hear it. Oh, and by the way, that subtle nod to Kiki-girl is so sweet. I hope that’s your daily uniform, because I love it,” laughed Doris, “now head down the office, the boss is waiting for you. Big love!”
Great, Doris was here. It was so good to have people he knew around him, and as he walked down the corridor towards J’s office every face he saw was familiar. This was like being back in the theatre, and J had made this happen for them. What an incredible man, losing his career over such a freak accident and then after all that, finding the strength and love to help everyone else. If there was ever a person to look up to, J. Constantine was it. He couldn’t wait to start working for him.
“Ok, before we begin, is this how you’re presenting yourself everyday, or is this a bit of first day flashy stuff to make yourself feel good and confident? I’m only asking so I have some idea of what to expect on any given shift.” J came from behind his desk and gave Martin a warm enveloping hug.
“Well, that depends on the boss. I hear he’s a pretty cool dude, but if there are rules that have to be obeyed, then straight-laced Martin it is.”
“God no! You do your job and you can bring your own unique hybrid-being every day of the week, as far as I’m concerned. Now let’s talk about how this is all going to look. This ain’t no 9 to 5 job Martin, I need you to turn up for events, cruise through the bar and restaurant, take heaps of photos and videos and record everything you see. Can you come up with some sort of strategy and get it to me asap. I have no idea what I need, I just need you to know and then execute it, ok?”
“J, I’m onto it. Is there a place I can sit and get to work? I’ll have a strategy and the best socials to use by the end of the day, in between checking out the hotel and the perfect places for shots.”
“Take any desk you like, and let me know what you need - camera and any other equipment - and I’ll organise it for you. We want this hotel to be the only one people want to visit and spend their money with. I’ve got a meeting with Cameron, so I’ll talk with you soon.”
J wandered out of the office, leaving a smitten Martin wrapped up in a blanket of fantasy - one where J took him completely by surprise with a deep kiss and an exclamation of just how much he loved him. Usually at this point of the fantasy Martin was swept away in sensual passion, but not today. No! Today he had to work and show J just how essential he was to have around. He moved over to the desk and started taking notes, humming ‘I will always love you’ as he went. He had to focus, and that song always did it for him.
CAMERON
She felt she’d been somehow duped into taking this job. The lure of working in a new space was exciting, so she’d jumped at the offer. She knew front of house management like the back of her hand and had run the reception at 5-star hotels across the country. When J headhunted her from The Langham offering her a promotion, double what she was being paid, plus benefits she couldn’t possibly ignore, Cameron decided to take a chance and go for it. Now she was here, she realised her decision-making process was definitely in question.
What the hell is happening? There was a guy dressed like a penguin, clicking his heels every few minutes and beaming his little twinkly face all over the lobby, a valet singing jazz standards at the front door and Antonio, J’s PA, behaving like a clown at every chance. The waiters kept singing to each other - which was kind of lovely, but very distracting - and they didn’t seem to know the first thing about ‘waiting’.
As for her own staff, there were some real issues to tackle. All of them were exuberant and ready to work, yet there didn’t seem to be a clear understanding of how a hotel worked.
Cameron had been disappointed to find J had already hired her staff, but as he was the boss, she decided to deal with it until she had proven herself. Then she’d make the changes she knew were needed. She just hoped she could last that long.
This was the first day, so she’d line up the staff for a meeting. She wanted to find each person’s skill set and then put them into the right positions. By the looks of those in front of her - all of whom were yawning and rubbing their eyes rigorously - this was going to be a living nightmare.
“Good morning, everyone, I’m Cameron, the Front of House Manager here at the Art Hotel. Welcome to your first day. J has told me how right you all are for the jobs here and I just want to say I am very happy about that. The Art is a 5-star hotel with a reputation to earn, and we need that reputation to be an outstanding one. That’s where we all come in. We are the faces of the hotel, the frontline, and we set the tone for the rest of a guests stay, so, no pressure. Actually, that’s not true – so, huge pressure.”
The look on her staff’s faces stirred a little flicker of fear in the pit of her stomach. They looked horrified. She ignored it, or tried to, and continued on without pause.
“Could you please introduce yourself to the team, state your hotel experience and why you are in this business. It’s always good to understand what drives us to work in hospitality and love it like we do. Let’s start with you.”
She nodded to a young woman with a mop of red curly hair and a sunny smile on her face.
“Good morning, all. Well, we all know each other, so this introduction is for you, Cameron.”
“Wait, you all know each other?”
“Yes, we all worked together at our last job, some of us for years.”
“Oh, ok, great. Then please go on.”
“Hi Cameron, I’m Molly and I have absolutely no hotel experience, if staying in numerous hotels doesn’t count, but I do love hospitality and looking after people, so I’m sure that’s a good start.”
“So, Molly, you don’t know a thing about working in a hotel”
Molly shrugged a let out a little giggle,
“and you have worked with everyone here in your last job, which obviously wasn’t in a hotel. So, could you please tell me just where you all worked.”
“At the Grand Theatre on Main Street.”
The little flicker of fear in her stomach ignited. Cameron looked around her.
“Excuse me, I will be straight back.”
She walked slowly from the room, turned into the hallway, and marched into J’s office. J looked up from his computer and smiled
“So, you’ve just met your staff, hey?.”
Cameron stared. Nodded. Stared.
“Yes, I kind of tricked you, but I know you can do this. These people lost their jobs and had no other option, so I gave them work. They’re my people and I promise they’re going to become yours too. They know shit about hotels, but they do know about looking after people. How hard can it be? And you get to mould them just the way you want them to be, and they’ll do whatever you ask of them. What more could you want?”
“Well, I could want highly trained staff to make this the 5-star hotel it deserves to be. Yeah, I could want that.”
“Cameron, this is up to you. You know you can work anywhere, that’s why I chose you, so if you want to miss this amazing opportunity and go back to what you know, then there’s the door.”
“They’re good people?”
“Yes, really good people.”
RAY
For God’s sake, why can’t these people take any of this seriously? Half of them had already lost their ID cards and it was only their second shift. I mean, how hard was it to keep something in the right place. He’d never experienced anything like it before. It was like they had no idea of how things worked or why security and safety was a big part of their jobs. It was like herding cats, really stupid ones.
Ray had been working security for over 20 years and was known for his relentless pursuit of perfection. He loved to don his uniform every day, standing proudly in front of the mirror, ensuring every part was just so. Who doesn’t love a man in uniform, he grinned to himself as he picked up his gun and badge and walked out the door of his overtly tidy flat.
This was a man of dogged determination. He refused to be swayed by others and knew exactly what needed to be done and how to do it. It made for an often lonely life, as his expectations of others led him to be constantly let down. He was a gentle soul but rarely showed it, as he was seen to be the tough guy, something he felt his job demanded of him.
Ray Socorro wanted respect and didn’t quite understand why it wasn’t always granted. He seemed aloof and stern; one not to be trifled with, again, something learnt from years of keeping people safe. This new job had come at a time when he had been considering another profession. Years of working in high security businesses had left him jaded, so when an offer of a hotel job came his way, he decided this was the change he needed - something less stressful yet still structured and orderly - maybe something fun at last. The fun part was eluding him, as he allowed his frustrations to take over.
As he sat in his office looking over the monitors and pondering his new job and how to handle it, there was a knock on the door. He opened it to a woman with pitch black hair tied up into a tight bun, a streak of white running through it like the line on a highway and lips of flaming red standing there, an inquiring look over her glasses.
“Morning, I’m ….”
“I know who you are, you’re Doris the Head of Housekeeping. How can I help you today?”
“Well now Ray, it is Ray, isn’t it? I’m here to see if I can help you. Correct me if I’m wrong, but I believe this is your first hotel job. Don’t worry, it’s mine too. I wanted to let you know almost every other person working here has never worked in a hotel either. They are in fact performers. The difference is, is that I know most of the people who work here, while you know not one, well except me of course.” She gave him a wry smile. “J is an ex-principal ballet dancer, and he built this hotel to give all his out-of-work mates a job. That means the only professionals here are you, Isabel the Sous Chef, and Cameron the Front of House Manager. I have a feeling not everyone has been behaving in the way you expect normal people to behave. That’s because they’re not ‘normal people’. They’re amazingly talented and gorgeous people who entertain for a living. And now they work in a hotel. I really hope that helps you to work out how to deal with them.”
As Doris walked out the door, she looked over her
shoulder and whispered “Get them to trust you, and you’ll have them doing whatever you need, whenever you need it. They’re wonderful like that.”
She gave him a wink and sauntered down the corridor, leaving an astonished Ray staring after her.
DANIEL
“I will work again. I will work again. I will work again.”
For months this had been Daniel’s mantra, something he chanted on a daily basis. He had been a Broadway actor and dancer for the past ten years and had some amazing roles and standing ovations, yet still had to fight for any role at every audition. So many performers were flooding the scene, and he often found himself overlooked when a new shiny model hit the stage. He trusted his talent, but he allowed his inner critic to go into overdrive when jobs came up, and then his auditions let him down. Often the gigs he actually scored were because a director or choreographer had seen him perform and liked him. Then the theatres closed, and everyone was out of work, so in the end all that angst was for nothing and he wished he’d just relaxed about it all. He loved being a performer, and knew that if he ever got to grace the stage again he was going to enjoy every moment of it and wouldn’t worry about the next gig.
He had a wife - a highly talented violinist - and child at home, crammed into a tiny box of a unit. And he needed to work, not only for the financials, but to keep himself sane. Amelia was home looking after Beth, and now with three of them in the cramped space day in, day out, patience was being tested big time. The normally serene atmosphere at home was being pushed to the limits. and both Amelia and Daniel could feel it. Before they became parents, only having themselves and their work to think about, life was relatively easy. They worked and played without thinking of what was next; nights partying with friends, falling into bed at dawn, then waking half way through the day; it was natural and a lot of fun. Now with the responsibility of their precious child, their priorities, of course, had shifted. Going from two wages to one was a juggling act but not impossible, until one became none. So, the chance to become a messenger at the new hotel in town couldn’t have come at a better time.
What did he know about ‘messaging’? Absolutely nothing, but he was a great actor, so he’d just play the role and pretend he knew. Easy. He turned up to the interview with a dapper suit on - one he borrowed from the theatre wardrobe - and some shiny patent leather shoes. He was ready to smooch his way into this job.
J took one look at him - the twinkle in his eye, his incredible get-up and his exuberant manner - and hired him on the spot. He looked so right for the part, and he looked so eager -or even just a little desperate, actually - so J just had to hire him.
“So, J, what do I do?”
“I don’t really know, Dan, hand messages out? Oh, yeah, and when you’re not delivering messages, you can just be this happy guy who helps others out around the hotel , including me. How’s that?”
“Sounds fine with me. Happy for me to wear this?” “Absolutely, you look fabulous.”
It worked. He had a job. Thank God. Everything was going to be alright. He left J’s office and decided to wander around his new place of work. As he walked down corridors and into the restaurant, the atrium and out onto the pool deck, he was greeted by nearly every person he passed. He recognised them all. It was like he was in a parallel universe - it didn’t look like the theatre but he definitely felt like he was in one - and this new universe filled him with joy and excitement to start his new job. He raced home to tell Amelia.
JUDITH
As she sat in the back of the limousine staring out of the window, yet looking at nothing, Judith took a deep breath. It didn’t matter how many times she went through it; it was an exercise in complete irrational terror. Only when the plane touched down was she able to finally relax and unfurl her hands that had been curled up into fists the entire flight. Not even a stiff drink helped; she tried every type on earth and nothing worked. Yet she flew on a regular basis and knew she had to deal with it as a matter of business - an unhappy but necessary part of business. The theatre business.
Judith Dolores wasn’t even interested in theatre or performing arts, and especially not ‘the talent’. She was interested in money and producing successful projects that entertained. She came from a theatre background - her parents and grandparents had trodden the boards. Her brother was a playwright and her cousin was a lion tamer. The last thing she wanted was to be as ‘involved’ as they were. Yet sadly for her, she was. She knew Show Business - the only business she really knew - and she wasn’t stupid. Stick with what you know, and the money will roll in. And it had. She wasn’t surprised she was a success. She knew how to organise and run stuff, so that’s what she did. It didn’t matter to her whether it was a Broadway smash hit or a horror film, Judith was in it for the money.
This latest project had been an easy one, almost too easy. She’d chanced upon a new assistant who oozed performing arts, loved the stage and reading scripts, and couldn’t get enough of finding the best talent for the roles. Judith basically sat back and directed her, while Sarah directed everybody and everything else.
The new show had been picked up by the impresario, Max Grant, who Judith had worked with several times over the years and was set to open at the Tivoli in the beginning of June. Judith and Sarah had flown into town on an early flight. The production company had booked out the top floor of the new hotel, so the two women wanted to make sure everything was ready for the cast and crew who were flying later that night. They had two weeks to get the set built, rehearse in the new space, and get performance ready. Everything was stage-ready so this was going to be a breeze.
The limousine pulled up to the hotel and two young and eager valets skipped up to the car. “Good morning and welcome to The Art Hotel,” smiled one of them. Judith gave them both a perfunctory glance as she strutted towards the front doors, Sarah, smiling apologetically, quickly followed her. The doors swept open to reveal a rather opulent lobby and atrium with a kind of strange vibe. It did not have the feel of a 5-star hotel - subdued, calm and sophisticated - on the contrary, the whole space had a bit of a relaxed, yet colourful vibe.
“God, so we’ve booked ourselves into this weird hellhole for the next 4 months. Great!”
As they turned to walk towards the reception, a very dapper young man approached holding a silver platter with a card on it. He stopped promptly in front of the women.
“Ms Dolores? Welcome to Art Hotel. Oh, you are Ms Dolores aren’t you? If not, then one; this is the third time I’ve blown it today, and two; I just lost a bet, so please be Ms Dolores. I can’t afford to be wrong again.”
Judith looked disdainfully at him.
“Is that card for me?”
“Oh, Ms Dolores, yes! You are invited to dinner with the owner this evening. Here are the details. I will have someone take up your bags and get you settled into your suite. Mr J will be so happy to know you have arrived.”
“Mr J?”
“The owner.”
As she continued towards reception, she turned back to see the dashing messenger jumping into the air and clicking his heels.
“Must have been a big bet,” she thought.
SARAH
When the call came, Sarah was in the midst of yet another argument with her man. Another fruitless round of accusations and vitriol spewing from his mouth, as she stood and waited for the diatribe to end. How had it come to this?
“Don’t you dare answer that phone Sarah, if it’s important they’ll ringback. I haven’t finished with you yet.”
Sarah’s eyes turned to her mobile lying on the kitchen bench and then back to the face of the man she’d once cherished. Staring at him, she reached over and picked it up
“Hello, Sarah speaking.”
“Good morning Sarah, my name is Judith Dolores.
Have I called you at a bad time?”
“Not at all Ms Dolores, your timing is perfect.”
Sarah walked out of the apartment, letting the door slam behind her, “how can I help you?”
Keep calm, Sarah told herself. This was the Judith Dolores on the phone, the one person she had dreamt of working for since she had discovered the joy of the theatre at the age of nine. Now this woman was on the phone wanting to have a conversation with her. Stay calm, don’t get too excited, be cool.
“I’m in a hurry, so I’ll make this brief. As you know, there is an opening for someone to fill the position of my PA, and after much consideration I would like you to be that person.”
Breathe in, breathe out, answer…
”Ms Dolores, I am very pleased I made a good impression on you and I gladly take your offer. When would you like me to start?”
“Immediately. I am flying into the city in an hour, and I need you to accompany me. We will be gone for eight days. I have a number of meetings to attend, and I want you to attend them with me. I gather you have no problems with that.”
“No problems at all.”
“Great, I will have my driver pick you up. Please text me your address and I’ll see you at the airport.”
“Thank you Ms Dolores, I look forward to it.”
Serendipity, that’s what it was. Just when she thought she’d happily get hit by a bus, along came her saviour in the form of theatre royalty, no less. Eight days away, long enough for putting plans in motion to move out of the apartment and begin this next phase of her life, free of the angst and anger that she’d dealt with for the past 18 months.
Sarah walked back into the apartment, past a seething boyfriend and into their bedroom to pack her clothes.
“Where the hell do you think you’re going? If you think I’m letting you out of this flat, then you are completely deranged.”
He stepped up to her and raised his hand.
“Just try, because you know exactly where I’d be heading if you do. I have to go to work and you’re standing in my way.”
“Work? Don’t be ridiculous, you don’t have a job.”
“I do now.”
The sound of a car horn broke the stony-held glare. Sarah picked up her bag, walked through the door and didn’t look back.
Now here she was, six months into her job, and her life had altered in ways Sarah could have only imagined. She’d found a cute little flat in the centre of town and spent her days trying to, and usually succeeding in, sorting out the life of Judith Dolores. As PA, Sarah thought she would work a certain amount of hours a week, and then have another life away from the job. It was a naïve and altogether ridiculous expectation. This job was a seven day, and often seven night, a week proposition, leaving Sarah exhausted yet exhilarated. She spent every waking hour completely immersed in all things theatre and she was being paid for it. How did that happen? Yes, there were times when she truly believed Judith was deranged. Having to deal with her constant demands and often diva-like behaviour was a total juggling act, but Sarah knew the upside to it all was what she was learning from this extraordinary woman. She wasn’t sure how long she’d be able to keep working like this before she burnt out, but she loved it and that’s all that mattered right now.
Her relationship with her boss had been all business from the beginning - no chitchat, no niceties - just what had to be done and when. Sarah wasn’t used to this approach, but knew if she was to keep her job she had to find Judith’s rhythm and go with. After six months, this was flowing far better than she expected, and Judith was giving her more interesting tasks, as she trusted her more and more. Sarah was in her element. She could put up with any demands from the relentless Judith Dolores if that meant being in the midst of theatre and the arts all day, every day.
Arriving at the new hotel, Sarah thought they’d stepped onto a set. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but something seemed very odd - all very sweet and happy, but kind of odd.
Normally a 5-star hotel was very subdued and business-like, with staff seemingly gliding through the lobby going about their business quietly and efficiently. This hotel did not have that vibe at all. This felt almost like a party, from the way they were greeted at the door to the hilarious check-in and then being met by some quirky messenger guy as they were directed to their rooms. Something was just a little off kilter and Sarah was liking it. Judith on the hand, not so much. Let’s see how this all pans out, Sarah thought as she followed her boss into the elevator, heading to the top floor of luxury suites.
ISABEL
Isabel was desperate. She needed this job. Badly. Two years of closures had meant moving into a tiny apartment and having to give up her dog, who she could longer afford. Like so many in hospitality, the restaurant business had been hit hard. There were so many people out of work, so that when something new came along, the lineup for one job was in the hundreds.
As she finished going over her CV, Isabel thoughts turned to the idiocy of the world. When something goes wrong, the two things that bring joy to people - good food and entertainment - are the first to suffer, which in turn creates more suffering. It was ridiculous. She shook her head, stood, checked herself in the mirror and decided that today was not the day to think about that shit. No, today was the day to go get a brilliant job.
She arrived at the door of the hotel and was met by a very dapper young man.
“You must be Ms Davis. Come this way please.”
Cute guy, even if a little quirky. Every third step he’d do a little skip. She entered the room to find a tall man with a welcoming smile.
“Ms Davis, great to meet you. Your first name is Isabel?”
“Er, yes.”
“I’m J, the hotelier of this establishment. Between you and me, the name ‘hotelier’ is a little flashy, but I use it every now and then to make myself feel important, which I guess I am since I own this place. Now, Isabel I want to get to know you a little bit, is that alright with you?”
“Of course.”
“Great. I’ve got a few questions for you. They’re designed for me to understand just what type of person you are. So, here we go. What year did Cats begin on Broadway. If you can’t remember the exact year, the decade will do.”
“Um, I have no idea.”
“Well, that’s a shame. It was in 1982, in the October to be exact. Brilliant show. Ok, then there are a small number of ballets considered the best in the world, could you please list your top three favourites.”
“Sorry, but I know nothing about ballet.”
J looked at her in stunned silence.
“Mmmmm, ok… I’ll make this one easier for you.
The most famous Italian opera is…?”
“Look, Mr Constantine, I’m not sure why you’re asking me these questions. I’m a chef, not a go-go dancer. I know nothing about musicals, ballets or Italian operas, but I do know how to cook. If that’s who you need, then I’m the person for you. A chef.”
“You’re hired.”
“You haven’t looked at my CV yet.”
“You said you can cook, so why shouldn’t I believe you. Let’s go down to the kitchen, I’d like you to meet our new Head Chef.”
As Isabel followed him to the elevator, her mind raced with who the Head Chef could possibly be. A new hotel would attract many brilliant young chefs wanting to make a name with something bold and original. Cynthia Anderson, who worked under Ramsay, was an amazing chef; maybe it was her?. Or what about Julius Amargo? He was incredible. Isabel had been following him for the last few years and would be ecstatic to work in the same kitchen as him. She could learn so much. This was an opportunity that had been basically handed to her and she wasn’t going to fuck it up.
J and Isabel entered, and Isa instantly got chills. This was a state-of-the-art kind of kitchen. Long stainless-steel benches in rows stretched across the room, each a station for a different part of the menu. The ovens were huge and completely automated, down to self-washing mode. The stoves were on each bench, complete with grill and hotplates. Under bench fridges were everywhere and the pots, pans and utensils had never been used and sat shining, waiting for the action to begin. There was every type of appliance imaginable, and Isabel couldn’t wait to get a look at the cool-rooms and the dry store. This kitchen was every chef’s dream, and she got to play in it. She could hardly contain herself.
J called out to the person standing over the stove, “Teresa, your new chef is here.”
Teresa turned at the sound of his voice, flashed a huge smile and glided towards them. She was dressed in her chef’s uniform and wearing what looked like a diamond and ruby brooch over the left pocket of her jacket.
“J! Oh, good, you’re here! What a fabulous kitchen. It’s so big and spacious and happens to have incredible acoustics. I’m in love.”
“Teresa, this is Isabel Davis, your Sous Chef. She comes very highly recommended, and I feel you will work well together.”
Isabel tore her eyes away from the resplendent Teresa to gape at J. Highly recommended? What the hell? He didn’t know a thing about her, so how could she possibly be highly recommended. On the other hand, she had studied every reputable chef around the world, but had never seen or heard of Teresa whatever- her-name is before. How could she have missed her; it didn’t make sense. She stepped towards her,
“Morning, Chef. I’m pleased to meet you and can’t wait for us to work together. I have long wanted to learn from one of the best and from what I can tell from J, you are just that.”
“Darling, I don’t know about that. J’s being very naughty. I’m not one of the best, I AM the best! Oh, and please don’t call me ‘Chef,’ let’s just go with Teresa, shall we?.”
Am I in an alternate universe, thought Isa. When has a head chef ever wanted to be called by their first name at work. Nothing made sense.
“I’ll leave you to it then. Get to know each other and I’m sure you’ll come up with something brilliant. We’ve got special guests in tonight, so work your magic.” J turned and strode out of the room.
“Oh, Teresa, maybe we could go through the direction you have for the restaurant so that I can get an idea of your approach and then I can look at the menu. The more I understand your vision, the better I will be able to adapt my style to fit yours and work in step with you.”
“Vision? Menu? Oh, darling I have none of that when it comes to food. I’m an opera singer. J believes I have diva tendencies so wanted to give me a ‘big’ job. I didn’t want to dissuade him of that, so here I am Head Chef of The Art Restaurant!”
“You can’t be serious?”
“Look, I know you might feel a little overwhelmed right now, but don’t worry, we can work this out together, ok? Yes, I know nothing about cooking, writing menus or running a kitchen and no, I never thought I’d be in this situation, but you never thought you’d be in this situation either, so already we have something in common.”
“No way! This is a 5-star restaurant and we have a dinner to prepare for VIPs tonight. We have no staff, no ingredients and no idea of our direction. ‘Don’t worry’ isn’t going to cut it.”
Isabel, right? -You’re here. If you walk out, you go home to what? If you stay, you have a little adventure, get to cook what you love and present it in the way you want. Nothing or adventure, mmm let’s weigh that baby up for a minute.”
Isa stared at her, bit her bottom lip, hard, breathed in and said “Get me paper and pen, and two stools. Let’s get to work. Oh, and by the way could you please ring J and ask where the rest of the staff are, because we need them NOW.”
“Yes, Chef.”
The two women sat at the bench staring at each other, then Teresa started writing on the page. She may not have cooking experience, but she knew people, how to read them and how to bring out their voices. She wrote and waited, wrote and waited, until she felt Isabel loosening up and beginning to respond. Without saying a word to each other Teresa wrote questions, and Isa answered.
Favourite ingredient
Favourite cuisine
Best food experience
Biggest wish
Within an hour they had the beginning of an understanding and a direction to follow. Teresa could feel the fear in this young woman, the dread of being swept up in this hotel madness, and she wanted to tell her that this was an opportunity, a gift, for her to do whatever she wanted.
The meal was agreed upon - well, Isa decided and Teresa nodded - so it was time to get ingredients and make it happen. This dinner was important. Many of the diners were from big business in the city and J had told them his magical staff would be creating something memorable. They had to make this work somehow. As the women stood, the doors swung open and six young men bounced in.
“Yo, I’m Claude and we’re here to work. Who’s the boss?”
Isa looked at Teresa questioningly.
“I’m the Head Chef, Teresa, and this is my Sous Chef,
Isabel. You answer to her and she answers to me capiche?”
“Yeah, we capiche. So, what do you want us to do?”
Isa took a big breath and asked the question she was certain she already knew the answer to…
“Have any of you ever worked in a commercial kitchen before?”
As expected, it was a big no.
“Do any of you know how to use a knife, have
cooked food at home, or even like food?”
This was not as expected.
“Yeah, I live with my family and am always cooking up stuff.”
“We’ve got a garden and I grow all the fresh food we eat at home.”
“I love food, and watch cooking classes on Youtube all the time.”
Shit, maybe this could work, at least for tonight.
“Ok, you - the one who gardens - I need you to get down to the market and buy all of these ingredients as written. Buy the best quality. You got it? Go to the office and get the hotel card and find a driver to take you there. You, blue boy, you go with him. You need to be back here within an hour, ok? Now go.”
“While we’re waiting for them to get back, let’s have a talk about who is going to do what here. I need two dishwashers. Any takers?”
Ralph and Samuel put up their hands. They had no interest in food unless it was being placed in front of them, so dishwashing sounded cool.
“Good, go over there and check everything out. You’ll find all you need and if you don’t know how anything works, just ask. Aprons are hanging on the shelves there. Go.”
“Ok, you two, welcome to the kitchen. You are about to get a lesson in how it all works. I am going to show you the stations, the dry store and cool rooms and then I’m going to get you to work. Go into the back room and there, you’ll find uniforms and aprons. Please put them on and find me back here.”
She stood and looked around, her heart pounding with excitement and adrenaline. Then she turned to see Teresa smiling at her.
“This is going to be magical.”
Teresa watched as Isa set up the first station and then followed suit. If she was going to be involved in this little adventure, the more she learnt the more she’d be able to lead. Each station was used for a particular purpose, from salad and starters, to vegetable preparation, from meats and seafood, to dessert. In a normal kitchen, each station was run by a chef or apprentice who knew what they were doing and had experience to do it, but this wasn’t happening here. The only way this was going to work was for Isa to write down the recipes and a blow-by-blow description of how each should look and taste. So, while she was waiting for the produce to arrive, she got to work on that, moving quickly and methodically.
Garden and Blue Boy ran back into the kitchen, arms laden with food, the driver following behind with more bags in his arms.
“Where do you want everything?”
“Get it all on the benches and let’s look at what we’ve got.”
The produce was laid out for Isabel to inspect. She looked across the bench, then looked at the young men in front of her, the beginning of a smile playing on her face.
“Good job, boys, good job. Now I need all the cold produce in the cool-room and the rest on shelves in the dry store. We’ll worry about labelling this later, go and get into your uniforms and meet me back here. Let’s just get this dinner preparation started.”
Ten minutes later, Isabel had four ‘chefs’ and two dishwashers lined up in front of her, Teresa by her side.
“Ok, so far so good. This is not the time for any of you to go rogue or do anything that’s not written down in front of you. This is the moment to get on board and do what needs to be done. This is going to be crazy, but if we can pull this baby off, we’re doing ok. Is that understood?”
“I’ve set up a whiteboard and it lists every course, how many of each, and a quick drawing on how it should look. I’ll be cooking and Teresa and I will be monitoring what you’re doing, so don’t worry. If you have a question, ask, loudly. If I ask a question or ask you to do something you must answer with “Yes, Chef” so I know you’ve heard me, ok?.”
“Yes, Chef” came straight back to her, in unison.
She laughed nervously.
“Ok, before we do this, a quick lesson in using a knife safely. I don’t want to see any blood flowing tonight.”
Lesson over, jobs were handed out and ‘chefs’ sent to their stations. Fuck, if this actually works, it will definitely be some kind of magic, thought Isa. With nothing else to lose and an adventure to begin, she shouted
“Let’s do this!”
OLIVIER
Right, this is just like learning a role. This is the part where I’m a Maitre’d of a fancy restaurant. How hard can it be? I’ve been learning lines and taking direction my whole working life, so this is just another gig. A very well paid one.
Olivier was at the stage in his career where the roles were drying up. There were too many actors and not enough roles for an ageing guy, and now with all the theatre closures, it was only a matter of time. He was, however, extremely debonair, exuding charisma and utter confidence as he strode across the lobby, commanding attention as he went.
He entered the restaurant with an air of propriety.
He knew if he looked the part, he was going to be the part. Tonight was seemingly simple, given it was just one menu. 60 people were arriving for dinner, and all he had to do was direct his waiters and bar staff. He’d once played an army sergeant in a production and that was all about his minions doing as they were told, so this was just like that. Given these ‘minions’ knew their jobs, this was going to be easy.
He’d made a little list of what he thought should be done. Things like set the table, put out the glasses, fold the napkins and make sure the drinks are cold. That’s it. Done. His staff arrived for their first night meeting, and as he looked over their uniforms, he decided they definitely looked the part. So far so good.
“Good afternoon, everyone and welcome to the newest and brightest restaurant in town. Each of you has been chosen for your unique ability in service and hospitality, and Mr J assures me you have been hand-picked for the job. That being said, for us to work well together you must understand who your boss is - that’s me - and that your mission is to do as I ask. The only way for this restaurant to run smoothly and remain 5-star, is for every one of us to do the job they’ve been trained to do. Are we clear on that? Right, tonight we are serving 60 VIP guests, including the owner of the hotel. Nothing must go wrong, which means everything must be perfect. There are six tables of ten. All the table setting paraphernalia has been set up in the ballroom, so get to work and make it happen. Everyone understand?”
The waitstaff turned to each other, shuffled their feet and slowly nodded their heads.
“Wonderful, then let’s get to work. Please make sure you’re ready for a big night, because first impressions are key, alright. Let’s go”
The staff rushed off to the ballroom while Olivier took a breath and smiled. J said these people were the best, so I’ll just play at being Maitre’d and they can do what they know. All of this is going to work out just fine.
They huddled together at the back of the room, trying to come up with how they were going to swing this. This guy Olivier was the real deal, and he expected them to know what they were doing and execute everything to the nth degree. The problem was, they were opera singers, not waiters. Setting tables and serving people were completely foreign concepts to them. They walked back into the restaurant.
“Well go on, get on with it.”
Olivier walked to the bar and sat down on a stool, expecting to see order and precision. Instead, he was confronted with his staff at a standstill.
“What do you think you’re doing? J told me you were the best in the business, so why aren’t you doing what you know?”
Lucias, a slim, timid young man was pushed forward. He cleared his throat and stared worryingly at his boss and uttered
“Sir, we are the best in the business. In our business, which is opera. There we do what we know. We were all singers at the opera house, which has been closed. These are our new jobs.”
This can’t be happening. This can’t possibly be happening. Olivier looked at his staff.
“Sit down, all of you. It seems we are all in the same boat, as they say in the business. Who knew the one thing that made people happy, brought pleasure to the masses, would be the first thing to suffer? We are in this together. I am not a Maitre’d, I’m an actor, and an out of work one. J gave me, and I suspect you all, a job, to save our bacon, hahahaha. Food joke right there.”
Everyone stared at him in silence, then slowly looked at each other. Lucias started nervously giggling, which ran through the group until everyone - Olivier included - were in fits of laughter.
“Fuck, this doesn’t change the fact we still have 60 people to look after tonight, so who’s here to work, and who wants to run this show?”
“You run it Olivier, we’ll just follow your lead. You said set the tables so let’s get on with it.”
J left the office and wandered through his hotel. This was it. Guests were arriving, ready for the opening night dinner, porters escorting them to their rooms. The lobby was alive with people and energy, just as he’d envisioned it. So much noise, so much happening. He felt butterflies in his stomach threatening to fly out of his mouth in excitement. He walked out onto the pool deck and saw guests floating in the pool, while others swam up to the bar for a glass of champagne, served by a very nervous barman/stage manager who did a passingly good job. J smiled to himself, maybe we can actually pull this off. As he approached reception, he could see Cameron trying to explain something to one of her staff. She wasn’t happy, in fact she was barely containing her rage. She looked up as he arrived at the desk.
“Ah J, I’m not sure if you’ve met Richard, he’s one of my ‘receptionists.’” She stared balefully at her new boss.
“It seems he’s not quite au fait with 5-star etiquette and has just told one of our VIP guests who rang for some assistance to “hang in there mate, we’re really busy down here.”
“Oh, I see. Not quite what you were hoping for?” “No, J, not what I was hoping, but what we were hoping for. You and me.” She explained, waving her fingers back and forwards.
Staring straight at her, unblinking J said, “Richard, I would like you to go to the guest’s room and find out what he needs, then I want you to respectfully explain to the person that you will find the solution and return with it as soon as possible. All of it done with an air of 5-star professionalism. Do you think you can do that?”
“Yes J, of course. Shit, I’m sorry. I just got flustered and forgot I wasn’t in the theatre anymore.”
“It’s all good, just go and sort it out and keep saying to yourself I work in a 5-star hotel, I work in a 5-star hotel and you’ll be fine.”
“Ok, got it.”
Richard looked down at the computer, found the guest’s room number and walked briskly – not breaking into a run – to the elevators.
“Before you lose your shit, Cameron, I want you to know I understand that this is hell for you. But, and this is a BIG but, these people are freaking out. They want this job badly, so are doing their best. Are they shit at it? Yes, but they’re trying. I’m not asking you to allow them to be idiots, all I want is for you to cut them some slack and try to kindly explain how things are done in this new world they now find themselves in.”
Cameron broke his gaze and sighed.
“Ok, you’re right. To be honest I’m freaking out a little too. This is a huge undertaking at any time, and with untrained people it is even crazier. You’re basically asking me to be gentle and loving aren’t you? Damn it.” She looked back at him, slightly abashed. “Ok, gentle and loving it is. I’ve got this.”
They smiled at each other.
“I know you do, that’s why you’re here. That and the fact no one else would have been crazy enough to take this madness on!” He laughed, turned. and walked away, Cameron shaking her head and laughing behind him.
His laughter continued as he walked back to his office, becoming increasingly manic and louder as he went. Shit J, don’t leave the office again until you have to. It’s hell out there! He dropped into his chair and laid his forehead on the table, eyes closed. I don’t know if I can do this. Really. I don’t think I can. He sat there, breathing in and out, in and out. Bad luck, you have to do it. You started it. so you have to keep going. All these people are relying on you, so you have no choice. Time to put on your ‘dance’ face and play the part J Constantine. J lifted his head to find Martin standing at the door staring at him.
“Hey, boss. Am I interrupting anything there?”
“No Martin, it’s just a little bit of panic. Nothing much we can do about that, can we?”
“Oh, is that all? Good. Just another day at the Art, hey?” he smiled understandably. “I just wanted to let you know I got the best photos of Cathryn Bennett on the bridge in the atrium. She’s a goddess and is going to totally light up our socials. So, if all else fails, at least we’ll have celebrity shots to share.”
“Fuck, that’s why you work here, Martin Douglas, so you can put a positive spin on absolutely anything. Thank you.”
“Right, all good? Cool, I’ll just go get some more memorable pics shall I?”
He skipped out of the room and back into corridor singing “I will always love you” as he went.
At 7.30pm, J was showered and dressed ready for his big night. He still didn’t want to leave the room, afraid of what was happening out there, but knew he had to, so squared his shoulders, opened the door and stepped into the corridor. Everything seemed frighteningly quiet. He rounded the corner to find the lobby clear and reception looking calm and collected. As he entered the atrium, he found it filled with guests, drinking champagne and happily talking to one another. He nodded to the ‘waiters’ pouring vdrinks and moved on to the ballroom. Olivier and his staff were standing by the door.
“Good evening, Olivier, team. How is everything? Are we ready?”
J asked, not really wanting to know the answer.
“J. Yes, we’re good to go. We’re just waiting for the guests to arrive.”
“Wonderful. Can I have a quick word with you please.”
Olivier nodded to his staff and walked to the back of the room.
“Please tell me you’ve got this under control.”
“J, it’s all good. We’ve been through the menu, and they know what needs to be done. They know to get the food from the kitchen and the drinks from the bar. After years of eating at brilliant restaurants, I’ve actually learnt some stuff, so now I’m passing it on. Don’t worry. We’ve got this.”
J looked at him, askance “Olivier, you are an actor of great worth, so I need you to give an award-inducing performance or we’re done.”
With the best act of bravado that he could summon, Olivier hugged his boss and whispered
“All good, boss.”
Shit, I need a drink. Alone.
He walked calmly back to the office, poured a scotch into a tumbler and downed it in one. Standing in the middle of the room, J Constantine steadied himself, ran his hands through his hair, straightened his tie and walked purposely into the ballroom - a new and very different opening night await
Judith took her seat to the right of J. As she settled in, she scanned the room. It was filled with the media and the usual VIPs in town. At her table alone, there was George Ambrose, the publisher of GA magazine, and Paula Klee, the lifestyle editor from the online news site Liberty Opulence. She felt calm, relaxed and in the right place; she could hold her own in any conversation with any of these people. Except maybe for the guy sitting directly opposite her. She had no idea who he was, but she was definitely going to find out. The last thing she wanted was to be caught in a chat with someone of no interest to her. Judith was entirely self serving, and this provided her the feeling of being in control of her situation. She hated surprises and hated not being prepared. She sat back in her chair, took a sip of a very fine champagne and smiled. This was going to be a very interesting night.
Martin entered the room dressed in a striking, slimline black tuxedo and a pair of the most heavenly, scarlet red, bejewelled stilettos. He’d encountered Ray at the door, where he’d been questioned and made to show his ID badge before being granted entry. Wow, that guy is so uptight, he thought, as he sashayed into the room. He was ready to take photos and chat to the guests as he went, and he was completely in his element. He arrived at J’s table just as the first course was being served.
“Evening J, the place looks gorgeous tonight and the vibe feels really good. How’re you going?”
“Great. I see you’ve been getting some photos of our guests, which is just what I wanted. Can you also get some of the table settings and the staff as well? It’s their night too, really. Also, Daniel is here to help out, so anything you need, just ask him, ok, he’ll be happy to do it.”
“Perfect, thanks boss.” He gave J a wink and a smile as he went.
Walking around the room and quietly talking with his staff, guiding them and ensuring they were at least looking the part, Olivier was the epitome of a Maitre’d. He’d decided to take a commanding approach to the evening, so that it seemed to the outsider at least, he had it all under control. He of course didn’t, but he wasn’t going to let anyone know that, so he postured and nodded, directed, and pointed in a subtle, yet imposing manner. It was all smoke and mirrors and looked the real deal. He was a satisfied man.
“This food is really quite good, don’t you think?”
J heard, coming from the table close by and he took a deep breath. He hadn’t realised he’d been so tense until that moment, and to hear an unsolicited comment of praise gave him a moment to relax just a little. All of this is working. Unbelievably so, and he decided to allow himself time to loosen up. He reached across and picked up his glass of wine and savoured the flavour, then tried the food. That person was right - this food is really quite good, he thought. Thank God for Isabel.
As the waiters cleared away the entree, Judith’s assistant, Sarah, suddenly appeared at her side.
“This better be good, Saar”
“Sorry, Judith, but this is urgent. I need to speak with you outside. Now.”
The two women left the room; Judith striding out with obvious fury, and Sarah running madly behind her.
“Right, you’ve got me here. What’s so bloody urgent.”
Sarah looked down, took a deep breath, and then stared into Judith’s eyes, willing her to focus.
“The plane carrying the cast and crew has crashed into the side of Babylon Mountain. There are no survivors.”
She let out huge sigh and started sobbing uncontrollably.
“Fuck!”
The sound of that one syllable echoing throughout the lobby shimmered into the restaurant, causing all other noise to immediately cease. J looked over at Olivier, quickly stood and marched out of the room, Olivier taking his cue raced after him.
“Fuck, I knew this would happen? What the fuck are we going to do now? We’ve got a bloody show to put up. She swung round to face an astonished Sarah, “What?”
“Um, Judith, I’m not sure whether you’ve heard me properly. The plane hasn’t broken down, it crashed and all our colleagues, our friends, are dead. All of them.”
J and Olivier stood watching the scene in front of them, trying to take in what was happening, but not registering quite what was unfolding.
“Judith, can we help you with anything? It seems something major is happening and maybe you can do with our help?”
“There’s no help to be had. The plane’s crashed, the cast and crew are all dead, and so is the show. You can’t help with that, can you?”
“Olivier, please go back to the restaurant and make sure the mains are being served and ensure everyone has got their drinks. We need to keep this calm and collected. Judith and Sarah, please follow me into the office.”
J grabbed a bottle of Cognac, opened it, and poured three stiff drinks.
“Ok, Sarah who told you this?”
“I got a call from the Metro Police. My name is the emergency contact, so they rang me to inform me what had happened. I then went to get Judith straight away.”
“Ok, you did good. Sit, sit. This is something huge for us all to take in. Let’s give ourselves a moment.”
“What are you talking about, J? Put the TV on. I want to see the reports. If this is real, I want to see it. If this is the end of all my hard work with this show, then let’s just rip the bandaid off.”
Sarah and J stared at each other both thinking the same thing - Judith had lost her mind. J then walked over to the desk, grabbed the remote and turned on CNN. There, front and centre, was the news. The three of them sat in silence taking in the scenes playing out on the screen, and drank long and hard on their Cognacs.
Back in the restaurant, the wheels were falling off. There was a sense of unease, as guests, witnessing the departure of J and Olivier, were left asking what was going on. When Olivier strode back into the room alone, that sense of unease was heightened.
The staff, already on edge with their farcical charades, began to lose their swagger. The excitement of playing these roles was rapidly wearing off. The realisation that this was actual work and they needed to actually perform as proper waiters, suddenly hit home, and confusion and fear set in. Trays of drinks were dropped, plates of food landed in laps, the wrong dishes went to the wrong guests, cutlery clattered to the ground. The ‘waiters’ could only apologise and move on to the next catastrophe.
As Olivier surveyed the room, he watched with cringing horror as the flimsy facade was beginning to cascade around them all. He knew something had to be done to try and retrieve the evening, and given he was the nominated boss of this ridiculous troupe, he had to come up with something, and fast.
“Ladies and Gentlemen, there’s been a minor situation that’s being handled by Mr Constantine as we speak. It’s nothing to be concerned about - a new establishment always has teething problems and The Art Hotel is no exception - so please enjoy your evening, as we help to create a memorable experience for you all.”
Olivier quickly walked towards the kitchen, summoning Lucias to him
“Get everyone off the floor and into the kitchen right now. We have to have a meeting. Go!”
As he stepped through the door, the scene was calm. Worryingly calm. Surely this mob were in panic mode too. Yet it didn’t seem so. There were people working away, and Teresa and some young chef were somehow keeping order within the chaos. He walked up to Teresa and told her a meeting needed to be called, now.
“Listen Olivier, you may think you can come in here and boss us around, but we’re only just keeping things together at the moment. Any change in the rhythm will send this kitchen completely off the rails.”
The ‘chefs’ in the kitchen were having their own meltdowns, realising to get 60 meals out at once required timing and precision. They looked to Isabel and Teresa for guidance, but the only person who seemed to have any idea of what was happening was Isabel, and she was beginning to look a little frayed around the edges. The calm scene was the silence of fear as panic was rising in everyone.
Olivier walked up to Isabel and quietly told her what had happened with the cast and crew, and that the atmosphere in the restaurant was weird and very uneasy.
“Chef, we need to come up with something to cut the tension out there. Given the producing and serving of food is somehow on the rocks, I’m calling a meeting now to find a way forward.”
Isabel looked into his eyes and nodded.
“Right, everyone stop what you’re doing, Olivier has something to say.”
“Yes, Chef!”
“Ok folks, by now we’ve all realised that apart from Isabel here, none of us know what we’re actually doing, and the guests are beginning to realise something is seriously amiss. We now have to come up with a plan to somehow save the evening before it descends into a complete disaster. Any ideas?”
“Well, I think I do.”
They all spun around to look at Isabel, stunned looks on their faces.
“Ok, you have no idea about any of this hospitality shit, but you are all performers, so why not go out and entertain them. Olivier you give me two waiters and I will keep two chefs with me so that food keeps going out. The rest of you, go do what you’re amazingly good at doing - performing.”
“Well, go on, entertain while we sort the rest out. Go!”
Huddled together, Olivier and Teresa hatched a plan, brought their new troupe of players to them, and set the stage for them.