Feel Me

Chapter Twelve

Lydia settled into the chair. “We’ll all be zombies by the time you get back, Brennan.” She said flatly, earning a brief laugh from him. “Are the so-called changes necessary?”

He sighed as if tired by the constant questioning. “Maybe. Maybe not. And that decision of change falls solely on me. She being here is only temporary, Lydia. There’s nothing to be worried about.”

“I hope so.” She sighed warily, giving him a meaningful stare. “For both our sakes. I really do.” She stood pushing the chair back a little to move and smiled. “Have a safe trip. You’ll be missed. Just one question; she’s not going to be here in your office, is she?”

He shook his head “No. An office would be prepared. Please try to get along with her.”

“I still think this is a horrible idea.”

†

It truly was a horrible idea having Avila as the temporary head. No, not a horrible idea. It was a fucking disaster. A bloody nightmare; that was what Avila was.

The first few weeks were tolerable. The subtle changes were welcomed by some, not all. Lydia wasn’t fooled by the change. To her, Avila was just like a cruel newly married woman who was nice to everyone, testing waters until her true colors showed.

And the time came.

She worked everyone twice as hard, extra hours with little to no break time. She was mean and criticized the shit out of everything and everyone. A few wanted to quit.

Hilda was the first.

Avila waltzed into the kitchen one fateful morning for an impromptu inspection, to keep them on their toes, putting everyone at unease by her mere presence. She criticized Hilda about her cooking on many occasions and Hilda did her best ensuring she followed her corrections, taking every subtle insult in good stride.

Avila asked Esiri for a plate of casserole Hilda had prepared. Esiri passed Hilda a flat ceramic plate with gold flowers etched on the sides. Hilda warily spooned some of the mouth-watering goodness, then placed it in front of Avila with a spoon.

She daintily picked up the spoon, took all the time blowing it to frigidity with exaggerated gentleness which stretched into minutes before sliding the food into her mouth, chewing slowly.

Her face contorted with each chew into a disgusted wrinkle. Hastily, she dropped the spoon and wiped her mouth with the white napkin. “This food is dreadfully bland and unappetizing to my palate.” She said in that ludicrous tone of hers. “You clearly don’t expect to serve the customers such an awful apology for a dish.” Her eyes held ice and her voice vile scorn.

Lydia watched Hilda turn molten with boiling rage. Hilda slammed the cleaver she held so hard into the wooden cutting board; tiny splitters flew. Later, it had taken the collective efforts of Toran and Julian to extract the knife from the board, leaving a deep indention behind. Thereby rendering the poor thing utterly useless.

“I’m sure you would know.” Hilda began hotly “Blowing on it with your foul breath must have spoiled the taste. Judging from your manicured fingers and ridiculously soft pale hands you have never in your life turned the cooker on. You don’t even know which knob to turn least you set your house to an infernal blaze. And you have the mouth to criticize my cooking.” She fumed and snorted incredulously as Avila’s earlier remark incensed her further. “I’d never!” her grey eyes glittered wildly with anger. “The casserole is too bland, unappetizing, no? Then here.” She upturned the remaining half of chardonnay on Avila’s head till it emptied, sputtering angrily in Swedish.

Horrified gasps escaped the staff at Hilda’s audacity while Lydia, Susannah and Alder went rigid with shock. Toran, Esiri and Julian watched with wide eyes and surprise. The deafening silence resounded the large kitchen. There were no sounds of cooking. All the cookers had been turned off at the first sight of trouble.

Lydia watched in slow motion as the large streaks of wine dribbled down Avila’s white dress, reminding her of a relative who got stained right in the middle of a wedding mass when she got up to receive Holy Communion. It was unfortunate she bled heavy. So heavy people thought she’d miscarried.

Hilda’s heavy Swedish puffed free from her lips in thick angry bellows, her face crimson, her grey eyes narrowed to dangerous slits. Lydia watched as thick waves of embarrassment and anger emanate from Avila, her shoulder shaking with outrage and shock. Hilda dared…dared humiliate her in this way.

“Get the hell out of here before I arrest you for assault.” Avila said through clenched teeth.

Hilda laughed manically, “Assault? Your mere presence is an assault. It’s so bad we can smell your disgustingly sweet perfume from a distance. You are a disgrace…a scourge. You are evil. Can’t do a thing, yet you open your sleazy mouth to insult everyone and their hard work.” She came dangerously close and Avila flinched slightly, yet stood her ground. “We are only here because of Mr Rox, and no one else. Our loyalty is to him, why? Because he treats us like familj. Something you’ll never understand.” She flung her apron and cap at Avila and spat icily. “I quit.”

She made to walk out the kitchen when a hand grabbed her arm firmly. Hilda turned startled eyes to the cold dark green eyes belonging to Brennan. The silence was palpable.

“What is the meaning of this, Avila?” he asked calmly.

Although no one spoke, the deep sense of relief from the staff wrapped chubby fingers around them like a blanket. Oh, thank God.

“I asked a question and I most definitely demand an answer.”

Lydia turned eyes filled with scornful amusement to Avila, taking in the expression of surprise and unadulterated shock on her face at Brennan’s impromptu presence. He looked sharp by the way, in a dark brown long-sleeved sweater and a pair of black jeans distressed at the knees with black leather boots. His eyes detached and cold.

“I was just – I merely corrected Hilda about the food and she sprang at me saying –” she began sobbing.

“She’s lying. The fucking bitch lies.” Hilda spat angrily.

“Enough.” His grip on her arm tightened and she quieted. His eyes moved briefly to everyone in the room one after the other. “Avila, meet me in my office after you’ve made yourself presentable. Hilda, follow me.” He lifted his dark green eyes to the rest. “Do carry on.”

†

An hour later, Brennan summoned Lydia to his office. She knocked briefly, then entered at his bidding.

He sat behind his desk. A delicate pair of glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. His dark blonde head bent over a piece of printed document. “I summoned you thirty minutes ago.” He muttered without looking up from the paper.

“I did. But turned away when I heard her voice.” She answered.
Brennan smirked, tugging of his glasses and settled his eyes on her.

She had to say, it was weird seeing him casually dressed. “You look well.” She commented as she took a seat in opposite him.

“As well as one can hope to be.” He said with a smile. “I apologize for whatever my ex-assistant put you through.”

Lydia snorted. “That would have to be a general apology, Brennan. Many threatened to leave.”

“I know. You all stayed for me. For that I am immensely thankful. This hotel is nothing without you.” Brennan spoke softly. “We are, as Hilda put it, familj. Thank you. Lia gave me a kiss on the cheek when she me. Clearly relived beyond words.”

Lydia dug her tongue into her trapping her laughter. “But I did warn you.”

“Don’t even start.”