Bad Luck Hotel
Lindsay's Arrival
Lobby, Frankston Hotel.
2:14pm.
“I’m home!”
Oh dear lord. Cly can recognise that sing-song voice anywhere. So, of course, can Tony.
“Miss Frankston, so nice to have you back,” he says, materialising out of god knows where before any of the other bellboys can reach Lindsay Frankston. Cly tries not to let her heart break too loudly from where she’s standing on the other side of the lobby, arranging flowers.
Lindsay’s big blue eyes widen when she sees Tony, and she smiles her annoyingly gorgeous smile. “Hi, we’ve met before!” she says enthusiastically, and pulls him into a tight hug. Cly knows he’s probably about to collapse from pleasure. “It’s Tony, right?” Damnit, she doesn’t even have the indecency to get his name wrong. Stupid attentive heiress.
That’s the thing about Lindsay that Cly really hates; she’s not like the other rich bitches of the world. Sure, she’s loud and outgoing, but she’s also fun and kind and bloody generous, too. She’s everything that Cly’s not: charismatic, confident, and beautiful. No wonder Tony’s in love with her. She’s like his female counterpart.
“Hey, when are you off duty?” Lindsay’s asking him by now, and Cly thinks she’s almost ready to hang herself with fresh bed sheets.
Tony’s grinning the widest he can possibly manage. “In an hour,” he replies.
“Great! Come and pick me up when you’re done. We can hang out,” the heiress says happily, then hastily adds: “Only if you want to, that is.”
“How could I refuse?” says Tony, and oh Christ, Cly knows that tone of voice. He’s in full charm mode now. She begins to plan what her suicide note will say…
~
Laundry Room, Frankston Hotel.
2:37pm.
Tony seeks Cly out while she’s changing the wash cycles, actually being good for once and not overloading the machines with washing powder. She’s sour to find that he’s still grinning like a kid on his birthday. “Guess what, guess what, guess what? Lindsay Frankston wants to hang out with me when I finish today,” he informs her, almost squealing with his excitement.
Cly forces a smile. “So I’ve heard. That’s great for you!” she lies, then goes right back to ironing pillowcases.
“I know what you’re thinking,” Tony sighs, slinging an arm around her shoulders. “You’re thinking that I’m stupid, and that I shouldn’t get my hopes up. Lindsay Frankston is way out of my league, and the only reason she’d want to hang with me would be out of boredom.”
Well yeah. That, and Cly’s insane green monster of jealousy is screaming that he’s got his heart set on the wrong girl.
“It’s probably true, but I’m not worried,” Tony continues, a carefree air to his tone. “I’ll prove that I’m the man for her. She’ll fall for me within seconds, and next thing you know, we’ll be exchanging vows at the altar.”
Cly snorts. “You’re like a teenage girl.”
“Don’t care,” Tony rallied, then his arm’s slipping from her shoulders so he can twirl around the laundry room, his long legs carrying him like a graceful dancer. If his hair wasn’t tied back (hotel regulations), it would be flowing around his face, and he’d look like even more of an angel. Cly purses her lips and glares back down at the ironing board.
“Know what? You’ll be my best man. Won’t that be awesome? We can get you a fancy-pants female tailored suit.”
Good to know that’s what he thinks of her. As his male-type buddy.
In the next second, Dustin strides in. Tony stops whirling, and Cly’s never been more relieved to see her wicked boss. “Anthony, I thought I’d find you here,” says Dustin, shooting a disapproving glance at Cly before returning his attention to Tony. “The rest of the Frankston family is about to arrive. They’ll be staying in LA for the duration of the benefit concert. You remember their son Vincent, don’t you?” Tony barely has time to nod before Dustin continues. “Mr and Mrs Frankston require a minder for him, and as my most reliable employee, I’ve appointed you. You’ll be paid extra for this of course, and it also means you’ll be attending the benefit, as Vincent’s chaperone. I trust you know the nature of the event?”
Tony fakes a casual grin. “Of course!”
“Excellent. You’ll need to dress appropriately, so I’ve organised an appointment with the formal outfitters down the street at 4:30 this afternoon. Now, I think that’s everything I need to say. I’ve compiled a list of things that are in order, so… enjoy your evening.”
And with that, he leaves. Tony is left staring in confusion at the list that’s been shoved into his hand.
“What benefit?” Cly asks after a moment of silence.
Tony shrugs. “No idea.”
2:14pm.
“I’m home!”
Oh dear lord. Cly can recognise that sing-song voice anywhere. So, of course, can Tony.
“Miss Frankston, so nice to have you back,” he says, materialising out of god knows where before any of the other bellboys can reach Lindsay Frankston. Cly tries not to let her heart break too loudly from where she’s standing on the other side of the lobby, arranging flowers.
Lindsay’s big blue eyes widen when she sees Tony, and she smiles her annoyingly gorgeous smile. “Hi, we’ve met before!” she says enthusiastically, and pulls him into a tight hug. Cly knows he’s probably about to collapse from pleasure. “It’s Tony, right?” Damnit, she doesn’t even have the indecency to get his name wrong. Stupid attentive heiress.
That’s the thing about Lindsay that Cly really hates; she’s not like the other rich bitches of the world. Sure, she’s loud and outgoing, but she’s also fun and kind and bloody generous, too. She’s everything that Cly’s not: charismatic, confident, and beautiful. No wonder Tony’s in love with her. She’s like his female counterpart.
“Hey, when are you off duty?” Lindsay’s asking him by now, and Cly thinks she’s almost ready to hang herself with fresh bed sheets.
Tony’s grinning the widest he can possibly manage. “In an hour,” he replies.
“Great! Come and pick me up when you’re done. We can hang out,” the heiress says happily, then hastily adds: “Only if you want to, that is.”
“How could I refuse?” says Tony, and oh Christ, Cly knows that tone of voice. He’s in full charm mode now. She begins to plan what her suicide note will say…
~
Laundry Room, Frankston Hotel.
2:37pm.
Tony seeks Cly out while she’s changing the wash cycles, actually being good for once and not overloading the machines with washing powder. She’s sour to find that he’s still grinning like a kid on his birthday. “Guess what, guess what, guess what? Lindsay Frankston wants to hang out with me when I finish today,” he informs her, almost squealing with his excitement.
Cly forces a smile. “So I’ve heard. That’s great for you!” she lies, then goes right back to ironing pillowcases.
“I know what you’re thinking,” Tony sighs, slinging an arm around her shoulders. “You’re thinking that I’m stupid, and that I shouldn’t get my hopes up. Lindsay Frankston is way out of my league, and the only reason she’d want to hang with me would be out of boredom.”
Well yeah. That, and Cly’s insane green monster of jealousy is screaming that he’s got his heart set on the wrong girl.
“It’s probably true, but I’m not worried,” Tony continues, a carefree air to his tone. “I’ll prove that I’m the man for her. She’ll fall for me within seconds, and next thing you know, we’ll be exchanging vows at the altar.”
Cly snorts. “You’re like a teenage girl.”
“Don’t care,” Tony rallied, then his arm’s slipping from her shoulders so he can twirl around the laundry room, his long legs carrying him like a graceful dancer. If his hair wasn’t tied back (hotel regulations), it would be flowing around his face, and he’d look like even more of an angel. Cly purses her lips and glares back down at the ironing board.
“Know what? You’ll be my best man. Won’t that be awesome? We can get you a fancy-pants female tailored suit.”
Good to know that’s what he thinks of her. As his male-type buddy.
In the next second, Dustin strides in. Tony stops whirling, and Cly’s never been more relieved to see her wicked boss. “Anthony, I thought I’d find you here,” says Dustin, shooting a disapproving glance at Cly before returning his attention to Tony. “The rest of the Frankston family is about to arrive. They’ll be staying in LA for the duration of the benefit concert. You remember their son Vincent, don’t you?” Tony barely has time to nod before Dustin continues. “Mr and Mrs Frankston require a minder for him, and as my most reliable employee, I’ve appointed you. You’ll be paid extra for this of course, and it also means you’ll be attending the benefit, as Vincent’s chaperone. I trust you know the nature of the event?”
Tony fakes a casual grin. “Of course!”
“Excellent. You’ll need to dress appropriately, so I’ve organised an appointment with the formal outfitters down the street at 4:30 this afternoon. Now, I think that’s everything I need to say. I’ve compiled a list of things that are in order, so… enjoy your evening.”
And with that, he leaves. Tony is left staring in confusion at the list that’s been shoved into his hand.
“What benefit?” Cly asks after a moment of silence.
Tony shrugs. “No idea.”
♠ ♠ ♠
Woohoo! I have more commenters. Thanks a billion, to all of you. I really appreciate your input. (:I'd update five times a day for you guys if life wasn't so hectic. Guh.