What If? by Shari Low

Author:Shari Low [Low, Shari]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Boldwood Books
Published: 2020-09-28T16:00:00+00:00

I arrived promptly for my induction the next morning. Peter Flynn was the kind of guy that you woke up with after a party and immediately vowed to be teetotal for the rest of your life. About 5’8” tall, with brown, Brillo-pad hair, tiny darting eyes, and a sneering expression.

‘Miss Cooper, delighted to have you on board. I’ve heard great things about you from Jack McBurnie.’ He said the whole sentence without looking up or cracking a smile.

‘Glad to be here.’ I suddenly wasn’t sure that I was.

‘Now, down to business. “Asia” is open every night except Monday from 10 p.m. until 3 a.m.. You’ll have complete autonomy to do whatever you want, as long as you stay within budget. You are fully responsible for all aspects of the operation. If you miss target sales in three consecutive months, we will immediately terminate your contract.’

He really needed to work on his motivational speeches.

‘I expect you to start work tonight. You’re not entitled to vacation time until you’ve completed four months’ service. You may stay in the hotel for one month to allow you time to find suitable accommodation. Thereafter you will receive a 50 per cent discount on hotel facilities.’

Be still my heart. His compassion was overwhelming.

‘Any questions?’

‘Yes. I need the services of five bar staff from other areas of the hotel tomorrow night and I need to inform you that I’ll be recruiting new stewards.’

He didn’t even ask why. He picked up the phone and barked orders to some poor defenceless minion. He replaced the receiver.

‘It’s arranged. I’ll meet you at the club at 8 p.m. tonight to introduce you to the staff and then you’ll take over from there. Good luck, Miss Cooper.’

He handed me a folder of financial records and I was dismissed with a wave of the hand.

I spent the afternoon shopping like a woman possessed. I prayed that they didn’t terminate me after three months, as I’d just spent six months’ salary on new clothes. I was having an out-of-body experience. My brain was carefully calculating the costs and advising caution whilst my body was careering around stores with my credit cards.

That night, I took hours getting ready. My hair was styled to within an inch of its life, I donned more fake tan than a bodybuilder and I took ages applying about forty-seven make-up products in the hope of looking like a natural beauty.

I pondered what to wear before deciding on my favourite purchase of the day – a black crepe dinner jacket with silk lapels and trousers with a silk seam running down the side. Underneath, I forced my lumps into a black satin bodysuit and slipped into black stilettos with heels so thin and high that they’d be handy for making kebabs.

I looked in the mirror, threw back my shoulders and smiled. Ready for battle.

Flynn met me outside the club and ushered me in. About thirty staff were congregated on one of the corner sofas, smoking, drinking and chatting. He banged on the bar as I stood in the background surveying the crowd.

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