“I’ll just go clean the wine from the floor,” Nat mumbled. She left the kitchen, avoiding Ada’s withering look.
“I think your dress is doing okay so far,” Roxy said to Ada. The white wine was spreading over the red stain and seemed to be neutralizing it. There was still some discoloration though, a light pink. “I just hope Sam comes back quickly.”
“He’d better,” Ada said. “I don’t know what you’re thinking, bringing that Dash prankster person here. Who does he think he is? You need to ask him to leave. In fact, my whole visit here has been a poor one. No one to greet me, no personal service. Are you sure you know what you’re doing?”
A lump formed in Roxy’s throat while butterflies chaotically danced in her belly. At that moment she felt she was in over her head, just like she’d feared in her least confident moments. And now she was in a bind. If she asked Dash to leave per Ada’s request, surely it would be some huge scandal that Michael & Dash would milk for all they were worth, probably for months, on their social media accounts. It might ruin her business. But if she let him stay, what would Ada do? Ada had huge influence among affluent tourists—especially in the African and Middle Eastern markets—who were looking for luxury experiences and Roxy was quite sure Ada had the power to generate a negative buzz. Perhaps they would all turn on her and destroy everything she’d worked for. She blew out her cheeks. At least it would be over quickly.
She didn’t know what to say to Ada. She was in a no-win situation. So she smiled brightly. “Let’s hope Sam hurries up; we need to save this dress!” she said. “It must have cost a ton.”
“It’s not about the cost. It’s never about the cost,” Ada snapped. She even stamped her foot on the tiled kitchen floor. “This is a Versace limited edition.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
“OH,” ROXY SAID. She didn’t even know it was possible to have a limited edition Versace dress. She looked up to the ceiling and down to the floor. Her thoughts started to run, and they followed a familiar theme. Had there been a time in her life when she felt more inadequate? Her owning and running a business had happened so quickly. It had skyrocketed out of nowhere, in fact. And now she wondered how she’d gotten here. It had been too easy. She didn’t deserve it. Evangeline and Sam must have made a mistake. The universe itself had made a mistake, surely. And now it was self-correcting. Good things like running the Funky Cat didn’t happen to people like her.
“When is that big buffoon going to return?” Ada said impatiently, her eyebrows knitted together, her eyes cold and hard.
“He’s not a buffoon,” Roxy shot back without thinking. “He’s a very kind, capable, strong man, and one of our dearest friends.”
Ada’s expression didn’t change.
“And he drives a Rolls Royce Phantom.” Roxy didn’t particularly care about that, but she knew Ada would. It wasn’t her finest moment, but she hated to hear Ada talk badly and without reason about Sam. It made her feel a little better to defend him.
“Really?” Ada said, perking up before relaxing and looking nonchalant. “I rode around in one before I was five. It was my father’s driver’s favorite car in our fleet.”
“Sam’s is a limited edition with maroon paint. So, you see, you two have something in common—limited editions.”
“Oh.” Ada nodded. “Well, that sounds nice.” She offered Roxy a small smile.
Roxy smiled back, bemused at how something so inconsequential to her made such a difference to Ada. “Oh, look,” she said, pointing at the dress, “it’s looking pretty good now.”
Ada ran her perfectly-manicured hands over the surface. “I can still see some staining.”
Sam came through the door then, panting, clutching a stain-remover pen and a spray can. “I’ve got what I need. Let’s get this fixed.”
There was a rapt silence as the two women watched him work. They both looked on intently. For obvious but different reasons, Roxy and Ada really wanted the stain remover to work and as if by magic, it did. After a few minutes of application, the stain completely disappeared.
Ada burst into a grin and threw her arms around Sam’s neck. “Oh, thank you! You are the only decent person here!”
Roxy felt an unexpected pang of jealousy course through her, closely followed by anger laced with relief. Heat rushed to her cheeks. When she’d taken on the Funky Cat, she’d decided that, despite feeling something for Sam, she was going to keep their friendship strictly platonic. She didn’t want to mix business with pleasure. She wanted to keep things just as they were, one big, happy Funky Cat family. But she still didn’t like this over-familiarity Ada was showing Sam. It ruffled her. And she didn’t appreciate her comment about him being the sole arbiter of decency. They were all bending over backward to help her if only she’d notice.
Sam gave Ada an awkward pat on the back and extricated himself from her hug. “You’re welcome.”
“So,” Ada said, smiling up at him. “I hear you have a limited edition Rolls Royce Phantom?”
“Oh, that?” he said quickly. “That’s just my guilty pleasure. Shall we go back into the dining room and finish our meal?”
“So what do you do?” Ada asked, taking his arm and leaning into him. “It’s so good to finally meet someone of my standing here. I’m medically trained, at Oxford University in England, but I don’t practice. My father persuaded me that I was more suited for the limelight.”
“Oh, right,” Sam said. He sounded genuinely interested. “I took the opposite route. I studied business at Stanford. My dad wanted me to become an investment banker in New York, but I preferred the idea of a lower profile life and came back here, my home town, to start my laundry business.”
Ada laughed. “And the rest. A hometown boy with a Rolls Royce? My, what did you do? Rob a bank?”
Sam laughed and got that awkward look he always did when the subject of his money came up. “Absolutely! Don’t hand me in, now, Ms. Okafor!” He clapped his hands and looked at Roxy. “Right! What’s next on the menu?”
Roxy’s head was all awhirl, what with the red wine mishap, the complicated emotions that she was trying not to feel, and the new information about Sam she was learning. “Um…”
Evangeline rescued her by coming into the kitchen. “Time for the cheese course now,” she said. “Come on, Nat.”
Nat came in after her. She wouldn’t make eye contact with Roxy or Ada. As Evangeline, carrying the cheese boards, followed Sam, Roxy, and Ada back out into the dining room, Nat took Elijah’s personalized cupcakes from the fridge and quietly began to boil some milk.
After the cheese course, they had planned for music with Nat singing, Elijah on the piano, and Sam playing sax. Sage had offered to do tarot readings. But Roxy’s energy was waning, as was everyone’s, it seemed, worn out by the drama of earlier. Ada was still in her robe, her dress forgotten as she focused on Sam.
“Let’s do jazz and spirits another night,” Evangeline suggested. “There’s always time for music and magic in New Orleans.”
There was a murmur of agreement and everyone dispersed for the night. After checking that everything was locked up and safe, Roxy went to her room. She changed quickly and snuggled up with Nefertiti. The day had been so overwhelming.
“Oh, Nef-nef,” she said quietly into her kitty’s velvety ears. “Can I really do this properly? I was just beginning to believe that I could. Is everything just going to fall apart like it always does?”
Nefertiti looked up at her and purred. Roxy shook her head sadly. “You’re just a cat. You don’t even care, do you? As long as I feed you and stroke you, that’s all you’re concerned about.” Roxy looked into the cat’s deep blue eyes and at her squashed-up little nose. She felt a wave of shame wash over her. She was being mean to her cat. Roxy hugged Nefertiti to her even closer. “Sorry, Nef. I just don’t know what’s up and what’s down right now.” Roxy sighed and closed her eyes. She soon slipped into a deep sleep and dreamed of dancing wine glasses and disembodied white dresses that
swooped around her like ghosts at a disco.
CHAPTER NINE
“GOOD MORNING, NEFFI!” Roxy stretched her arms over her head. She felt a lot better. She had woken early and taken a long, hot shower, scrubbing away the dress drama of the night before. She did not look at Instagram to see how the incident had been portrayed there, preferring to think good thoughts and hope that everything would turn out okay in the end.
Roxy knew that even if dinner had been overshadowed by events, at least breakfast was likely to be sedate and special in real New Orleans style. They’d have beignets, of course, and café au lait and Evangeline had promised calas and couche-couche too. Calas were a type of deep-fried dumpling made from rice, egg, flour, and sugar. They were so tasty that Roxy dared not eat even one. She knew from experience that if she did, she’d scoff the whole plate. Couche-couche was Evangeline’s favorite. It was made of fried cornmeal and eggs, milk, raisins, tons of syrup, often a dash of liquor too. Roxy imagined all the beautifully curated Instagram pics of the influencers’ breakfasts beaming out to their followers across the world. She smiled to herself.
“Oh my gosh! Have you seen Instagram?” Nat cried out as soon as Roxy burst into the kitchen.
“No, why? What’s going on?” Roxy’s heart started to beat fast.
“It’s gone viral!” said Nat.
“What?” Evangeline said from her place in front of the pot. “Them people have a virus? And I breathed the same air as them last night?” She wrinkled her nose and pursed her lips.
“Evangeline, you know what it means, I’ve told you before. Sage told you too. It means something’s spreading fast online, just like a virus.” Nat was abrupt.
Evangeline shook her head. “Whatever you say, cher. It’s all too much for an ol’ chick like me.”
“It wouldn’t be if you just applied yourself,” Nat said with a sigh.
“I don’t want to apply myself, Miss Natalie,” Evangeline said, a little testy now. “I’m fine just as I am, thank you very much.”
Nat rolled her eyes and turned back to Roxy. “Anyway, you know, Dash spilling wine over Ada. I mean, it had to go viral! They’re some of the biggest influencers online, and they’re having a spat! The fans are going crazy about it. Ada’s fans are messaging Michael and Dash, threatening them with legal action and all sorts!”
“Wow,” said Roxy, unsure what to think and a little confused before a feeling of dread spread over her. It was like being draped in a wet coat. Nat, on the other hand, judging by her bright eyes and excited voice, made it sound like a good thing. “I mean, I thought there would be more death threats,” she continued, “but Ada’s crowd are the type that sends the lawyer over to deal with their problems.”
“What are Michael and Dash’s fans saying?” Roxy asked. She was starting to tremble.
Nat was looking at her phone, scrolling through the comments on Instagram. “Some of them are saying that it was an accident while others think it was done on purpose. Even more think it’s hilarious. And in all honesty, I’m inclined to agree!”
Roxy felt the anger of the night before resurfacing. “Are you crazy, Nat? Don’t you realize how serious this all is?”
Nat shrugged, still looking down at her screen. “What is with you? Why do you always take life so seriously? This is great! We’re getting so much publicity! And you know what they say about publicity.”
“I don’t want negative publicity,” Roxy said carefully, keeping her voice even. “I want to earn a professional reputation. And right now, that is not happening.”
“Professional?” Nat said. “You invited Michael and Dash for goodness sake. Didn’t you know things would get wild?”
Roxy had let Sage take care of setting up the influencer campaign and had taken only a cursory look at each profile before agreeing. Now, she berated herself for not paying more attention and thinking through the implications of the campaign more carefully. At the time she’d been swept up in the excitement of the idea.
“I didn’t expect it to be this wild, and even so,” Roxy said, “you need to stay professional and not be disrespectful about the guests behind their backs, or in front of them for that matter. You’ve made an enemy of Ada.”
“Good, because I don’t like her either.” Nat folded her arms, thrust out her chin and tapped her foot in defiance.
“Nat, please! You’re acting like a child. Come on, Evangeline, back me up!”
“Leave me out of it!” said Evangeline. “I don’t work here anymore, and I certainly don’t fix workplace arguments. I’m just a hired cook, that’s all, cher. But aside from that, Nat, you should listen to your boss. You’re being insubordinate, and she’s talkin’ truth.”
Nat shook her head as she scrolled through the influencers’ posts once more and sighed. “I suppose you’re right. Roxy, I’m sorry. I will be extra nice to Ada at breakfast, I promise.”
Roxy’s thoughts wandered for a moment. She found herself thinking again about how ill-qualified she was to run a hotel and on top of that, now she was arguing with her staff. What kind of employer did that make her?
CHAPTER TEN
CATCHING HERSELF, ROXY quickly put all her negative thoughts to one side and decided to focus on what had to be done. It would be no good for her to be angry when the guests came downstairs. She wanted to be sunny and welcoming and represent the warmth and hospitality of New Orleans. Nausea, though, churned in her stomach. The influencer campaign was starting to become something of a disaster.
At that moment, Elijah walked in. He flounced through the swinging kitchen door holding a big white box aloft in one hand as he always did. He was delivering his first batch of pastries of the day. They would be still warm from the oven. “Here we are, my darlings. Beignets for your VIPs. Tell me, have you seen Insta this morning? My, my, those followers are crazy.”
“Argghh, not you too, Elijah! Can’t you see what this could mean for my business? We’re being associated with a major social media event, a negative social media event. That is not the kind of publicity I had in mind when I decided to do this promotion,” Roxy said. Elijah had the decency to look abashed.
“Yes, you’re right,” he said, more gently than she’d ever heard him. “I wouldn’t like it if it were my business caught in the eye of this particular storm. It’ll all blow over though, I’m sure.” Elijah kissed the back of her head as he left to return to his bakery across the alleyway.
Straightening her shoulders but feeling rather abandoned and alone, Roxy took out the beignets in Elijah’s box and silently arranged them in pyramids on serving platters. She took them through to the dining area and placed them on the serving table. In the empty room, Roxy checked that the coffee machine was switched on and ready, and she got out the brandy and milk and some whipping cream so her guests could garnish their coffee in true Creole style. As she looked up, she saw Ada coming down the stairs.
Ada wore a floating sundress the color of the sky and had even painted her nails to match. Roxy brought the plate of beignets over to her. “I’m so sorry about what happened last night,” she said to Ada. “It was very unfortunate. How are you feeling?”
“Okay,” said Ada, though she didn’t sound entirely convincing. There was a hard edge to her voice, and she didn’t smile. “Once you get that horrible man out of here, I will be absolutely fine. Don’t worry, I won’t hold you responsible for the incident. He, on the other hand, will be speaking to my lawyers. My father will retain the best legal team that money can buy, I can assure you of that.
“Well, I’m glad you’re feeling better,” Roxy said as Ada sat at the table and started to scroll through her phone. Inside, Roxy was all abuzz with nervousness. She had hoped a good night’s sleep would encourage Ada to change her mind about making Dash leave. “Would you like some coffee?”
Ada didn’t look up from her phone. “Actually, I’d like some of that punch we had yesterday. Please make me…”
Ada was interrupted by a scream and the sound of
a wall being thumped. Steps pounded on the stairs and Michael rushed into the dining area. He was wild-eyed and frantic. He wore only his pajama pants. His hair was standing up on end, and for once, he carried no camera. “Quick, quick! Come quick! Somebody, anybody, quickly!” He gesticulated wildly, his voice rising with increasing frustration—no one was moving fast enough for him.
Roxy jumped away from the table and followed him as he streaked back into the hallway and up the stairs. “What’s going on?” she said, feeling her breath catch in her throat.
“It’s Dash! It’s Dash!” Michael said. “I think…I think…” He led her into a bedroom and pointed at Dash. Michael backed into a corner of the room. He was shaking, clutching his own arms and rubbing them up and down as if it were the middle of winter, not the middle of June. It seemed to Roxy that the temperature in the room had turned icy and time had stopped. Dash was lying on his back in the bed, his skin eerily white against his red hair. “Is he…Is he…Is he…?” Michael couldn’t bring himself to say the word.
Roxy inched forward slowly, her limbs weighed down by dread. She knew the answer to Michael’s question before she even reached out to touch Dash, but she just couldn’t make herself believe it. “No, no, no,” she whispered under her breath. She touched Dash’s arm with a brush of her fingertips. It was cold.
“How…how could this happen?” said Michael, but Roxy couldn’t answer him. Her voice had deserted her. All she could do was stare at Dash. Was she still asleep, and this was some kind of nightmare? Blood rushed through her ears.
Moments later, everyone in the hotel arrived, drawn by the sound of Michael’s cries. Ada shrieked. Lily turned ashen. Sylvia gasped. Nat pressed her palm across her mouth. Even Elijah, alerted by the noise that he could hear across in his bakery, arrived at the entrance to Dash’s room and put his palm to his forehead in horror. Everyone was shocked to the bone.
New Orleans Nightmare Page 4
