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“See, she’s awful! She’s laughing at us now, so unprofessional. We want the manager. And she’s got to go. I won’t stay somewhere with such disrespectful and stupid employees,” blondie states with authority. I smile benignly at the poor party planner.
The brunette picks up the charge, her voice dripping with condescension. “I’m sorry if you’re a student and this is the only job you can get with your limited skills,”—good lord is she an arrogant, entitled bitch—“but you’re rude and haven’t done anything we’ve asked.”
“I don’t think I’ve been rude,” I add in, trying to defend myself a bit, but I can’t prevent the snort that escapes with my incredulous laughter.
“SEE,” screeches Susie, “this is what she’s been like the entire time. Get her out. And all this crap. We need to get settled and go for our treatments. If we miss them because of your incompetence, you can bet both of you will be looking for new jobs.”
I decide to be no help to anyone and look at the party planner with interest. “Your move,” I say to her out of the side of my mouth. She smirks at me, confirming she knows who I am.
“I’ll double check the room allocations, but I think you may be in the wrong room,” she says to the two incredulous women. She’s perfectly poised and professional, but there’s no missing the hard undertone of authority in her voice. I give her an impressed look and nod my head in respect to her.
Turning my expectant eyes to the interlopers, just out of pure mischief, I say, “Shall I help carry your bags down stairs?”
I think my ears are going to start bleeding with the racket both women start to make. Blondie collapses to the floor in one of the best dramatic falls I’ve seen in a long time. Bitchy holds the back of her hand to her forehead in a total southern belle move and slumps into one of the chairs.
I look at the party planner, she looks at me, and we both lose it, full on belly laughing. The wrong thing to do with the dynamic duo laying about crying. They get even louder and start to shout as well, just for good measure.
Enter stage right Kellen and Gabe, into the middle of the melee. Blondie jumps up off the floor, great recovery I think, and runs straight at Kellen like a heat seeking missile. Gabe looks at me with worry as the other woman jumps onto him, curling her limbs around him like a boa constrictor. Both women are shouting and crying at the same time. I’m trying to contain my laughter, but catch the party planner's eye and we set off again into gales of laughter.
“What’s going on?” Kellen says to the room in general.
“That bitch.” Susie says through her tears, pointing at me just so everyone is sure who she’s talking about. “She’s rude and completely unprofessional. All we did was ask her to remove all this shit in this room and put our things away. She laughed at us!” Her voice is screeching at a higher and higher pitch as she catalogues my crimes. “I want her out. Fired. Gone, Marcus.” She pouts so much I’m staring in fascination at her lips.
“Moi?” I point to myself. “Je n’ai pas ete grossier.”
One hand on his hip, the other trying to hold off Susie, Kellen looks at me and closes his eyes, trying not to laugh. “Pack it up, E,” he says, his eyes bright with mischief when he reopens them.
Blondie is now looking at me smugly, because her version of ‘pack it up’ means I actually start to pack the room up. She points to my suitcase in the corner, spilling over with my underwear and tops. “Move it quick and I might let you keep your job.”
Satisfied she’s won, she turns to Kellen and kisses him full on the mouth, making noise like she’s enjoying a good meal for full effect.
I go from mildly amused to pissed off in a nanosecond. Turning on my heel, I pick up my suitcase and throw it discus-style onto the bed.
Marcus finally manages to push her off, but the other women, trying not to be outdone, detaches herself from Gabe and goes in for a kiss. Exasperated, he blocks her and grumbles, “Gabe, for fucks sake, sort them out.” He calms his tone as he turns to placate me. “Evie, stop with the case, baby.”
“Don’t you fucking baby me,” I shout at him. The room goes silent as everyone else stops dead in their tracks, standing like guppy fish with their mouths wide open. “I’m not putting up with this all weekend, Marcus. Have at it, baby.” I exaggerate the baby with full on sarcasm.
“You’re asking for it, Kitten,” he says in a mild voice, the glint of laughter fully obvious in his eyes. He grabs my hair and says into my ear, “I love it when you’re jealous.”
“Fuck off, Marcus.”
“Right, that’s it, Kitten." He picks me up and throws me over his shoulder, smacking me on the arse as he does.
When I shout, “Put me down,” he smacks me again.
“You wanted a spanking this morning. If I’d have known you were this desperate for it, I would have stayed and done it. Sort them,” he instructs Gabe again, and carts me off to his room.
We miss the ATVs. I miss all the beauty treatments. And I finally emerge from his room at 2 p.m, my sex haze back in full force.
Kell’s gone to sort some last minute details with Xan and greet other guests, and I really need to chill out.
We’ve talked about people from his LA life being here this weekend, and how it will take a bit of sorting as no one is used to him being with anyone. He’s asking me to have a little faith in him and believe he won’t be with anyone else, regardless of what they say or do. I’ve agreed not to jump to conclusions. And in a much more confident mood, I go downstairs to see if I can find my brothers or Grace.
Noticing the party planner, I offer her a wave of recognition. She comes over with a smile on her face and introduces herself. “Hi, I’m Angie, the party planner.” She puts her hand out to shake mine. ”We didn’t get a chance for a proper introduction earlier.”
I take her hand, grinning back at her. “Evie, recently fired staff member, also a friend of Kellen.”
“Kellen?” she queries.
