There's A Fly in My Soup!

3.

I needed to do the same.

The kids heard us talking in the hallway, and soon after, Leon stumbled out of bed too. Cheryl was used to seeing my brother half naked, having joined our mad arse family shortly after they moved in with me. His mobility wasn't great back then, so she'd help him get dressed, which he hated but came to accept with the grace that amazed me. Every. Single. Day.

I can't imagine being in his shoes.

Jessie however, was not used to nakedness, and she turned the colour puse. I felt like fanning her, but paid her back for pretending she hadn't seen me bowing before, and I pretended to check through her certificates.

When I looked up, Sarah was holding Jessie's hands and batting her eyelashes while Monty prattled on about having ice cream for breakfast. It was and is his most treasured dream.

I didn't have long to change into an outfit that said I wasn't in the mood for taking any shit, but within the time I did have, I realised I didn't have an outfit that said I wouldn't take any shit. So I pulled on a grey dress I'd bought for a funeral once, and checked my reflection. The dress said relatively hot. The hair said relatively homeless.

After a wrestling match that stone cold Steve Austin would be proud of, my hair looked semi presentable. I scrambled from the bedroom, sidestepping evil chunks of Lego that threatened to puncture the soles of my feet in agonizing pain.

'Go get 'em sis!' Leon grinned, as I zipped up my biker boots and pulled on my wool beanie. 'And I think me and the new babysitter are gonna get on just fine.' He winked, and I shoved him playfully.

Taking a deep breath as my feet hit the doorstep I couldn't help the cheesy grin. It was the first time in years that I'd seen Leon smile like that.
.........

The revolving doors at the Clifton are a nightmare. If you attempt to step into them at the same time as someone else there's this awkward dance you wind up doing.

You go first.

No, you.

This morning I nearly crushed Sam Worthington. Well, Sam Worthington's long lost twin. His hair was a dark red colour, his face peppered with stubble, and he had that strong jawline that could melt a woman in a millisecond. At this time of year we don't get many hotties, well, not until December rolls up and we host corporate functions. Christmas parties are the ideal place to window shop for sexy suited professionals. And I say window shop because I'm stuck in the kitchen and when I do get to venture out of the kitchens for my breaks, I'm wearing a blood splattered unflattering white tunic, a hair net, and my face is a sweaty mess.

Not that I'd get time to date anyway. It all seems too much effort.

Anyway, I was almost clear of the doors, and any risks of banging into anyone when Sam Worthington showed up. And because I don't meet many blokes with his devastating good looks, I felt my mouth opening and closing, completely independent of my commands.

'You okay miss?'

Aussie. Definitely Aussie. I could picture this bloke on a beach, six pack displayed for all to envy, beads of sea water dripping off his twelve pack. The way his grey t-shirt clung to him, he had to be sporting more than a mere six pack.

'I'm...I'm...' Oh bloody hell, pull yourself together you look like a dog salivating over a piece of steak.

He was steak. Filet mignon.

I groaned internally. This was inevitable. Years of avoiding men because they were a complication I just couldn't be arsed with and bam. Now I felt like a firework about to go off because some hot Aussie had dared to venture into my personal space.

I pulled myself together, focussing on my conversation with Trent instead. In the lobby, the gorgeous red headed Aussie strode towards the staircase. That meant he was a guest. Forbidden fruit. Argh. Even worse. And then he looked back, this coy smile on his face. I wondered whether I'd seen something that wasn't there, till I heard him call out.

'Have a good day.'

My cheeks blazed as pent up hormones bobbed to the surface. And I walked straight into Marianne.

.............

'Watch where you are going!' Marianne scowled, holding a duster to her chest like it was a newborn baby and glaring at me in horror. 'Mr Callaghan has given me the key to the grand ballroom.' When she said 'me' she closed her eyes and smiled at the ceiling. The woman baffles me. She's a bloody fruit loop. 'I have sparkling crystal to clean. And he's entrusted that ginormous task, to yours truly.' The dreamy look in her eyes caused a great giggle to bubble in my chest till I had to disperse it with a cough.
'Speaking of Mr Callaghan, where is he?' I hated to break up her romantic moment but I was ready to say my piece and inform him, in no uncertain terms, that I would be keeping my job or he'd suffer the consequences. I should have written all of this down....don't be an amateur Cerys!

'He'll be back around ten. I expect he'll want to admire my experienced hand, as I have the ballroom looking divine.'

I ignored her, and headed off towards the kitchen. She was so full of hot air she could talk for days about how her job keeps the hotel going and without her we'd all be stuffed. I forced myself to get through the breakfast service, and after I'd killed it once again with my waffles with chocolate and Pedro Ximenez sauce, and my famed crepes with honeyed orange, I'd be in battle mode.

.............