simmer down // a.i. [ON HOLD]

[2] "you."

By the time I got to the Hilton Hotel, I was seriously out of breath and looking supremely unprofessional. The young doorboy (whose golden name tag said ‘Beck’) tried to suppress a smile as he held the doors open for me.

“First day?”

I paused and looked over at him. “Yeah, how’d you tell?”

His gaze roamed over my wonky shoes, sweaty shirt and flushed cheeks. “I can tell.”

Was I that obvious? Great.

“Umm. Do you know where I’m meant to go, or?”

The boy motioned towards the reception desk. “Ask Ciara, she’ll know.”

He chuckled and tipped his hat. “Enjoy your first day.”

The door closed behind him, and I was left all alone in the cool foyer.

I tottered up to the front desk and rang the bell. A girl my age stuck her head around the corner of a doorway behind the booth and smiled.

“Hi there! You must be Emma!”

She was wearing the same uniform clothes as I was, but had somehow managed to wear it elegantly, and looked pretty, like she fit in with all the fancy décor of the hotel. Her black hair was neatly twisted into a bun and one curly stand hung loose, giving her the elegant look of unsymmetrical chic. The wide smile she gave me was friendly enough, so I took her outstretched hand and shook it, nodding.

“That’s me. Nice to meet you.”

“I’m Ciara.” She tapped her shiny badge with a manicured finger. “Come on in, just behind here.” I walked through the door she held open for me, and looked around at the little desk.

“You’re a little late - that’s okay though, no need to worry. I’ll look after you.” She winked at me, and I grinned sheepishly.

“Actually, I’ve been assigned your buddy for the summer, sooooo --“

Ciara kept on chattering animatedly, but I didn’t mind. She was eager, and I was only too happy to share her excitement. It was a relief, after the morning’s encounter with that Ashton.

I began to imagine spending the rest of the holidays working with Ciara. We’d become good friends, and spend the hours messing around like those girls in the Malteser ad. The day was definitely looking up.

“Just chuck your bag and stuff in here, you can access it any time. It’s kinda like our common room out there - the door code’s written there.”

Ciara kept on talking as she pointed to a little stick-it note on the corner of the desk. I jumped. It said 5SOS.

I blinked, and looked closer before letting out a breath of relief - it said 5505. What was wrong with me?

“Uhh, Ciara?” She snapped to attention and giggled.

“Sorry, am I going to fast?”

I blushed. “No, no, it’s fine. I was just wondering - what exactly is my job here?” I sounded so lame, and I instantly regretted asking, but Ciara just grinned and took it in her stride.

“Emma, I’m so sorry! I tend to talk heaps, don’t I? It’s not normally this bad, I’m just all flustered this morning because there’s a special group of people coming - OH MY GOD. Stop!” She whacked her forehead.

“Concentrate,” she muttered to herself.

“Okay. Your job for the next month. Act as receptionist, kitchen staff, cleaning staff, wherever you’re needed the most. Every morning, you gotta check in here, before 7 o’clock,” she winked at me, “and read this register - it has all the important info on it that you’ll need to know. Kinda like a daily announcement sheet for the staff.”