Sugar Lips

Chapter One

 "Your hair is not that bad." my friend Callie assured, trying to ease my dislike for my recently dyed dramatic hair color. It wasn't bad. It was just bright. Like really bright.

"Yeah, you would say that. You have a pixie cut, and the perfect shade of blonde. There's nothing pink-haired about you." She was the sweet-girl next door type of vibe.

She pulled back from her locker, looking at my hair. "Just put another box color over it if you don't like it. I personally love it! You have the perfect tanned complexion to carry that shade of pink off."

I took to looking at myself in my locker mirror.

"It's not that I don't like it. It's just going to take a little bit of getting used to." Going from dark blonde to two attempts of at-home bleaching. Wow! That hurt. And not to mention the mess of my walls with the pink splash marks every time I washed it.

"Only you would dye your hair pink, then panic." Her gentle laugh rippled through the locker room. "Next, you'll be wanting your nipples pierced and tattoos."

I took out my hair clasp and let my pink hair frame my face. "The funny thing is, I probably would if I wasn't so scared of needles."

"Come on, let's get out of here. I need a shower and a cocktail." She slammed her locker shut. I turned, keeping my back to her, still getting undressed. I sure was ready. We lived for the weekends. After working long hours Monday to Friday at our housekeeping job at the swanky LaSata hotel in Manhattan, Friday night was party night. So was Saturday. Sunday was for catching up on sleep before wishing the week away just to do it all over again. The joys of being twenty-three. We had no kids, no men. We were commitment-free—apart from work, that's all we had to commit to.

I covered my chest with my arm, trying to keep some dignity, tossing my nude tunic dress into the laundry basket and pulled on my bodycon summer dress. New York City in June was too damn hot. Callie ended her shift with a glow most days, whereas I was a sweaty mess.

I sat down on the bench behind me and quickly pulled on my ankle socks and slipped my feet into white, chunky trainers. "Oh, there's this new bar nightclub in Soho I wanna try. Will serve the best cocktails in town, apparently."

"Is it Jinx?" She asked curiously, waiting patiently for me.

I stood and closed over my locker. "Yeah. You heard of it?"

"Everyone that is anyone has heard of it. It's not long opened. I doubt we'll even get in."

I looped my arm in hers. "No harm in trying. If all else fails, we can sing bad karaoke in Jimmy's bar, order pizza, and then pass out on my couch." Jimmy's bar was an Irish bar that did happy hour every hour. Cheap and cheerful.

"Or we can fix that pink hair of yours." She giggled. I tugged at a strand of my hair. "It's growing on me. A few washes and it will fade."

The door to our locker room swung open.

Our boss, Meredith, barged in, sighed with relief and gave us that look we knew all too well. Her short black hair was dishevelled, sweat glistened on her forehead.

"Thank God, you're still here."

"You need a night out, by the looks of it." Callie said. She looked as though she had sprinted down the flight of stairs to catch us leaving.

"No time for a life these days. I need a favor."

Suppose working fifty plus hours a week does that to you. Me and Callie both glanced at each other, groaning. We knew what was coming. Either, can you stay late? Or can you work overtime tomorrow? Both of which Callie point-blank refused to do. She did the bare minimum. Worked what she was scheduled, and that was that.

"We're off the clock. And we have a night out to get ready for." Callie interjected. Favors weren't her forte.

"It won't take long." Meredith looked at me and clasped her hands together. "Everleigh, please." I hated the puppy look she only seemed to give me. She was only in her late forties, yet she looked older. Joys of smoking and a hard life she'd claimed over the years.

"Okay. Fine. What is it?" I muttered hastily.

She suddenly perked up. "We have a big shot billionaire here on business, checking in for the night."

I shrugged. "So?" wasn't unheard of. The hotel boasted about its privacy for the elite. We, as housekeepers, rarely seen them, and if we were in their presence, they literally acted like we never existed.

"So, he's asked for the Dahlia suite."

"Then give it to him. Why are you stressing out? If he's asking for it, he clearly can afford it. You'd need to be a millionaire to afford that suite." At a hefty fee of two thousand dollars a night, you have to be rich to wanna stay there.

"I plan to, but Marie didn't show up for the last part of her shift. Her youngest son had a fall or something at school."

"I still don't understand what you need from me?"

A voice came through on her walkie talkie. It was faint, but something about a guest arriving earlier. Ignoring it, she turned down the volume. "I need for you two—"

"Not me." Callie interrupted, pointing in my direction. "Her." She slipped her hand out of my arm. "I'm heading home to get ready for our night out."

I was hopeful that she was willing to try a new bar. "So, are we going to try and get into Jinx?" I asked, ignoring the fact Meredith was nearly having a full-blown panic attack at me ignoring her.

Callie shrugged and made her way out into the corridor. "May as well. I'll pick you up in a taxi. Be ready this time."

I rolled my eyes. "Still annoyed about last Friday?" I tossed out, even though I knew the answer.

She turned, paused, then crossed her arms, glaring at me. "I'm more annoyed at the fact that I had to pay the taxi driver an extra twenty bucks just to wait for you just so you could finish curling your hair. So, when I say be ready for seven, it means have your ass down stairs for six-forty-five."

"You love me?" I said in a childlike voice. She tried to smother a laugh. It was a trend on TikTok that had both of us always saying it when the other one was trying to be serious.

Callie flipped me the bird before leaving. "Yeah, I love you." I smiled, then drifted my gaze back to my boss.

"So, will you clean up the suite?" Meredith held her breath.

Putting her out of her worry and misery. "Give me next Friday off and it's a deal." My parents had been banging on about how I hadn't seen them in over three months. That I should visit home more often. A three-day weekend would grant them their wish.

She seemed to be mentally trying to calculate something up. "Okay, deal."

I held my hand out. "Shake on it?"

"I'll hug on it." She lunged for me, smothering me in a massive bear hug. She was harmless, a little stressed at times, but all the housekeepers were like one big, diverse family. Meredith was the head of housekeeping. Like the mother hen to all of us.

"Oh, my uniform needs washed, so I'll have to wear this." I gestured to my outfit. She paused to look at me then turned away, most likely onto her next task.

"Fuck it. If Jonathan sees you, just pretend you left something in the room."

"Will do." I called out. Jonathan was her manager and very tight on dress code. If he were to see me in my midi-dress, cleaning the posh suites, he'd literally hyperventilate.

I grabbed my wireless Air Pods from my locker and opened the music app on my Apple watch, getting lost in my playlist as I made my way to the top floor.