VANCE
Authors: Leila Hawkes
Disclaimer
This is a work of fiction. Names, places, businesses, characters and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, actual events or locales is purely coincidental.
Chapter 1
The woman sweeps into the hotel reception with all the haughtiness of a Hollywood movie diva, she certainly looks like one. As she approaches the front desk, I have to stop myself from practically drooling over the cream Versace summer dress and sleek Gucci heels that she is wearing. I guess they could be fake, but something tells me they aren’t. She just oozes money and class.
I try not to compare myself to her, and ignore the nagging worry that I look drab and matronly in my own navy blue hotel uniform. For years I have battled with my inferiority complex and I am only just getting the upper-hand. The last thing I need is some Amazon goddess smashing through my carefully constructed defences.
“Good morning, welcome to the Cherry Tree,” I say perkily and putting on my best hostess smile.
“Drake,” the woman says sharply, her manicured voice betraying the hint of a foreign accent.
“We have a reservation.”
She barely acknowledges me from behind her large sunglasses, and I feel my smile falter. For the most part our guests are very friendly, and even after my couple of years’ experience, an unpleasant one can really set me on edge. Their rude behaviour makes me feel as if have failed in my job somehow.
“Of course,” I say, maintaining my friendly disposition.
“One moment please,” I add, as I consult the computer. Her thick perfume hits me in the back of the throat as I call up the reservation details, and I have to stifle a cough.
“Here we are, Mr and Mrs Drake,” I say. “You’re in Room 18.
Is, erm, Mr Drake with you?”
Mrs Drake has her head down and is rooting through her handbag.
“Vance!” she suddenly shouts in the direction of the open main doors.
“Stop screwing about, and get in here!”
I watch, startled, as a man carrying some expensive looking luggage saunters into reception. My heart does a back flip as I look him over. He is tall, not as tall as the statuesque Mrs Drake, but he towers over me even though I am wearing heels. He is broad too, and the wedge of tanned skin revealed by his open shirt collar hints that he keeps himself in good shape. Unable to stop myself, my eyes lap up the elegant contours of his neck and his oval, boyish face.
“Sorry Estelle,” he says in a voice like golden honey. He offers her a disarmingly grin of dazzlingly white teeth as he joins her at the desk.
“I was just having a look round. It’s really beautiful here.”
“Room 18,” Estelle says impatiently, pointing one narrow finger at the key card I’d placed on the desk.
“Please,” I say quickly, suddenly feeling my cheeks heating up. “Bobby will take your cases up to your room.” Bobby is the lanky waste of space that passes for our only bellboy. He isn’t that good at his job, but I don’t want this glamorous couple to think they’d come to some backwater dive.
Vance pushes his sunglasses down lower so they perch on the end of his sharply defined nose. His eyes are glittering orbs of ice blue. My heart stammers in my chest as I force myself to meet his gaze. “That’s very accommodating of you . . . Holly,” he purrs, scanning my name badge, “but I can manage the bags. I’m a big strong boy. I eat all my vegetables you know.”
He winks at me like a mischievous schoolboy and I giggle. A few seconds later the mortification of losing my carefully cultured air of professionalism hits me square in the gut. I straighten up and pretended to look at something on the computer. Vance keeps his gaze on me.
“That’s no problem at all Sir,” I say, hearing the tightness in my voice. I ring the bell and glance behind me. “Bobby.” I call.
Bobby lurches out of his lair in the back office and gives me a surly look. I make my face into a glacier. “Take the Drakes’ luggage up to Room 18, Bobby.”
Face like thunder, Bobby shuffles from behind the desk to obey. Vance grins at him and lumbers him with the luggage. “Thanks, Bob,” he says as he follows Estelle to the elevator. He turns to me again and his eyes send a chill down my spine.
“Catch you later, Hol.”
“Yes,” I blurt out. “Have a good stay,” I add belatedly.
I carry on watching the couple, unable to fight the temptation of checking him out. Like his wife, he is dressed expensively. He is wearing cream pants and matching jacket, with a black shirt underneath. I catch a glimpse of bare ankles just above his designer brogues, and his short dark hair is fashionably tousled. It is a darker shade than my own, and looks impossibly luxuriant. I imagine what it would be like to run my fingers through it, and my skin tingles with the thought.
As the three of them board the elevator, Vance shoots another look at me over his sunglasses. I’m not expecting it, and our eyes lock together for just a split-second. My belly flutters and I hold my breath, caught like a fly in a web in his sultry gaze. Then the elevator doors slide shut, and the moment is gone.
I let out a deep breath and almost sag against the desk. The sensual aftermath of the look warms my stomach, making me feel cosy all over. But the self-critical part of my brain kicks into overdrive and I cringe with embarrassment. Vance must have thought I was a complete airhead, a silly dumb blonde lusting after him. He and his horrid wife are probably having a good old laugh at my expense right now.
Still, I can’t shake the feeling that we’d made some kind of connection. Though we have only been together for a few minutes at most, I feel like something deep has passed between us.
Don’t be stupid!
I tell myself angrily. I am always doing this, seeing things that just weren’t there. Mom always said that I had an over-active imagination. “You’re always off with the fairies!” was a favourite saying of hers. “You need to live in the real world, girl!”
Mom’s angry voice slices through my mind, deflating all my daydreams. She was right of course. She’d always been right, and if she’d been alive today she would have scolded me for acting like a silly schoolgirl. I’m too trusting, that’s my problem. Even now, after everything I’d been through, I still only see the best in people. It is my biggest weakness.
Nevertheless, it didn’t change the nice feelings Vance has stirred in me. Self-consciously, I start examining my appearance in the large mirror behind the reception desk. At twenty-two, I am small and petite and a big improvement on the clumsy, acne covered teenager that I eventually evolved from. I thankfully now have a clean completion, and my face is a small oval with a perky nose and full, rubina lips. It is nowhere near as stunning as Mrs Drake’s aristocratic diamond face and cut glass cheekbones, but I like to think I am pretty in my own way. Aunt Shelley always says I am much better looking than I think I am, but she is away with the fairies more than me. Still, I’m not completely hideous, and there did seem to be a genuine spark of pleasure in Vance’s wonderful blue eyes when he looked at me.
I run a hand along my smooth dark hair, and tug at the ponytail. Who am I kidding? While he is married to someone as fabulous as Estelle, why would Vance be even remotely interested in a plain girl like me?
I quirk my mouth and turned back to the front. By rights, I shouldn’t even be looking at someone else’s man. Though I don’t have any particular affection for Mrs Drake, I’d never want to inflict the misery and heartache of betrayal on another person. I have been there and it isn’t a pleasant place at all.
“Whose is that fancy car outside?” Jules’ foghorn voice bellows across reception, making me wince. A few moments later, the maid bustles through the front doors.
“Have you seen it, Holly?” she asks eagerly.
“It’s ever so smart, and a gorgeous shade of blue. I think it’s a linguine!”
I roll my eyes. “Do you mean Lamborghini?” I drawl.
“Anyway, whatever it is, you shouldn’t be out front Jules,” I add. “You’ve been told about that before.”
“Lamborghini.” A look of rapture crosses Jules’ red-cheeked cherubic face. “Who does it belong to, Holly?”
“It probably belongs to the Drakes,” I reply. I want to go outside and take a peek, but it don’t want to set a bad example in front of Jules. She can be very easily led astray as it is. “They checked in just now, not that it’s any concern of yours. Now get back to work before you get into trouble.”
“I’m on a break,” Jules says defensively. “I’m allowed breaks. This isn’t a slave camp.”
“I know all about your breaks, they go on forever,” I say sternly. I wince when I realise how much like Mom I sound. I erase the frown on my face and instead offer her a sympathetic smile. “You’d better go, before Dolores catches you.”
“Silly old witch,” Jules mutters. She sticks out her jaw pugnaciously. “She’s always picking on me, and I do twice as much work as the other two girls, it’s not fair!”
“Dolores likes to run a tight ship,” I reply, “but if she’s really giving you a hard time go and talk to Harvey about her.”
Jules makes a face. “He’s worse than Dolores. I don’t know how you can work with him so close to you. The way he looks at the girls, dirty old man. You know at the Christmas party he touched me right on the – ”
“Okay, Jules, you’ve already told me this like a hundred times,” I say quickly. “I think the whole town knows where he touched you.” Harvey is the hotel manager, and though Jules is prone to exaggeration she is right that he has a roving eye, and sometimes a roving hand, even though he is married. He’d made a few mild advances towards me it is true, but I’d politely rebuffed him without him taking offence. I’d heard a dark rumour that the girl who has my job before me has been fired because she hasn’t been as receptive to Harvey’s advances as he wanted her to be. The official story is that she is let go because of poor timekeeping, and there is no proof there is more to it. I hope it is just a nasty rumour for my own sake. I love working at the Cherry Tree. In the four years I have been here, my faltering self esteem has been given a well needed boost. For the first time in my life, I am looking forward to the future, and I dare to even imagine being manager here myself one day. It is a far off objective and at the moment it means avoiding making powerful enemies like Harvey.
“They must be very rich,” Jules says musingly, slouching over the desk.
I scowl at her in irritation, but don’t have the heart to shoo her away. “Who’s very rich, Jules?”
“Mr and Mrs Drake, of course!” the girl retorts, looking at me like I am a complete idiot.
“If they’ve got a car like that, they must have a lot of money. I wonder what they’re doing in a dump like this?”
I bridle at my future dominion being referred to as a dump. The Cherry Tree is a rambling clapboard mansion straight out of the Victorian era. It is beautifully picturesque, though a little ramshackle. The décor is a rather dated now, and the place is crying out for a fresh coat of paint, but elderly Mr Walden who owns the hotel doesn’t like parting with his considerable fortune. If he is a bit more generous, the Cherry Tree might get a lot more guests. As it is most of the profits came from the adjoining restaurant. Still, things could change.
“Why the Drakes are staying here is their business,” I say primly, “though it’s not completely earth-shattering. We have some great online reviews.”
“You sound like the website,” Jules snickers. “All this butt kissing won’t get you anywhere. If you want a promotion you’ll have to give Harvey a flash of your panties.”
I try to look offended, but I can’t help but smirk. “Jules!
You’re terrible!” I say in a reproaching tone. “You shouldn’t say things like that. You’re lucky to have this job, especially after what you did when you worked at Grampie’s Burger Bar.”
“They couldn’t prove it was me,” Jules says sullenly. Her face brightens, and she leans further over the desk. “What they like?”
“Who?”
“The Drakes!
Are they glamorous, or old and ugly?”