Against the Odds

Chapter 2

Heels clacking on the marble tile of the hotel lobby, Kimmy and I sprint past the reception desk to Ballroom C, the staging room for tonight's event. We stop just outside the ballroom doors and catch our breath. Donna's voice is vaguely echoing through the door. Praying that the hinges have recently been oiled, I softly open the large mahogany door, ushering Kimmy through first. We squeeze silently inside just in time to catch the end of Donna's speech.

"And lastly, Mr. Richardson, tonight's benefactor, has kindly requested that all staff refrain from being on their cellphones during the fundraiser," Donna announces while scanning the room. Kimmy and I duck our heads slightly as the rest of the staff nod in agreement. "Alright, girls! Go get ready and report to your section leaders in an hour."

As the crowd disperses, Kimmy and I make our way to the wardrobe section at the opposite end of the room. All the garment bags on the rack have already been picked up, except the ones with our initials etched on the fabric bags. Kimmy stares at me as we grab our respective outfits.

"You think she noticed?" Kimmy murmurs as she unzips the bag and pulls out a floor length red sequin gown.

"Noticed what?" A stern voice hisses behind us. We spin around and Donna is standing behind us arms crossed. "Notice that you were late? Or that you tried to hide your tardiness?" She pauses. "Well?"

"Donna, we're sorry!" Kimmy whines. "There was so much traffic on Madison and then they wouldn't let us park in the hotel parkade, so we had to find street parking, and you know how that is on a Saturday-"

"Enough!" Donna snaps. "I don't need your excuses. What I need is for my staff to conduct themselves in a professional manner."

Kimmy's almost on the verge of tears. She doesn't handle scolding very well. "We understand Donna, sorry. It won't happen again."

"Get. Ready." Donna commands before walking away. As Kimmy and I start undressing, Donna turns around, "You're both in section 10."

Kimmy groans as she slips into her gown. "Section 10? Section 10? In these shoes? Lilah, we're going to die! Again!"

It's become an unspoken rule that if Donna ever places you in Section 10, that means you're in the doghouse. It's the furthest section from the bar, which means constant round trips to pick up and drop off flutes of champagne or whatever it is the guests order. Oh, and worst of all, the kitchen is on the opposite end of the ballroom, which means our dreams of a caviar feast have slipped away.

After all the final touches, jewellery, hair pins, and enough hairspray to suffocate an entire room, the finished product doesn't look half bad.

The colour scheme for tonight's event is red, gold and black and our dresses coordinated as such. I run my hand over the gold sequins hugging my body, and brush away a couple stray hairs from my face.

Donna asks everyone to gather one last time and reiterates everyone's section, emphasizing mine and Kimmy's. We get a few sympathetic nods from our co-workers, but I know inside they're happy it's us and not them.

As we make our way to our sections in the Grand Ballroom, we're greeted by the casino dealers. There's a mix of roulette, blackjack, baccarat, and poker tables spread throughout the ballroom. Thematic drapes shape the room, converging in the center of the ceiling. High-top cocktail tables are sprinkled among the games, covered in dark fabric, with votive candles and playing cards acting as centrepieces.

The guests begin to arrive, all decked out in various James Bond inspired costumes. A woman walks by me with a Russian ushanka hat, and a small toy pistol in hand, laughing while pretending to shoot her escort. Oh boy, this is going to be a long night. Before I know it I'm on autopilot shuffling back and forth from the bar. Champagne. Moscow Mule. Scotch neat. Red wine. White wine. Beer. Beer. Beer.