Roxy didn’t have time to do anything special with her hair, not that there was a lot she could do with it—it was a pixie cut after all—so she simply finger-combed it, and with a flick of mascara and a slick of lip gloss, she was ready to go.
Roxy had laid out glasses on a tray on top of one of the coffee tables, a couple of bottles of champagne resting in ice coolers beside it. After calling her guests, she had hovered, ready to greet them with a glass of bubbly, conscious that each and every moment was a video and review opportunity. She didn’t want to give the influencers the slightest chance to produce anything negative.
While Roxy waited, she wondered if they had already made any less than favorable content for their Instagram accounts. She had an overwhelming temptation to whip out her own phone and check, but she resisted. It wouldn’t look very professional if the influencers sauntered in ready for the finest New Orleans had to offer and found her glued to her phone like a teenager. Her phone stayed in her little glittery cross-body bag, firmly on silent.
Sam arrived first. He brought his saxophone with him and looked suave and sophisticated in a gray tux. “Hi, Rox,” he said, setting his sax at the back of the room behind one of the luxurious couches. “Everything ready?” His eyes were lit up with excitement on Roxy’s behalf.
“I hope so!” Roxy said. “I’m a bit nervous. Their arrival wasn’t entirely without a hitch, but I think the meal will go well.”
“You’ll be absolutely fine. You’ll do great, in fact. You’ve worked so hard on this place and…”
“With your help,” Roxy interrupted. She knew she’d landed on her feet thanks to Sam and Evangeline and felt a little guilty about it, though she didn’t quite know why.
“It’s been an absolute privilege to help,” Sam said firmly in his lovely low voice. “I didn’t want to see this place turned over to a developer, torn down, and turned into shiny new apartments any more than you did. This is my heritage. Yours now too.”
“I know,” Roxy said. “But thank you all the same.”
“You’re welcome. Now I won’t hear any more about it,” he said briskly. He bent over the ice bucket containing the champagne. “May I pour you a glass, Ms. Luxury Hotel Manager?”
Roxy laughed. “Please do. Though I won’t have much, or I’ll be spilling my secrets to the world via Instagram video.”
“Ha!” Sam said. “The deep dark secrets of Roxy Reinhardt. Are you part of a criminal underworld?”
“Busted,” Roxy said with a smile, taking the glass of champagne from him. “Don’t blow my cover now. Or I’ll have you…” She raised her eyebrows, and her glass, in a meaningful way, “dealt with.”
“Ooh hoo!” Sam said. “That’s me told.” They stared at one another over their champagne for just a little longer than necessary before a door closing behind them eased the tension.
Sage and Elijah had arrived. Sage, as ever, looked like something from another world. She’d anointed her skin with silver glitter that shimmered in the lamplight, and she had a wreath of silver and deep pink flowers on her head. Magenta robes flowed loosely around her frame and brushed the ground. Silver sandals peeked out from beneath.
“Looking like a dream as always!” Roxy said to her, giving Sage a kiss on the cheek.
Sage gave a humble little bow and said, “May the golden light of blessings engulf you.” Being engulfed, even with blessings, seemed rather overwhelming to Roxy, but she was quite certain Sage’s intentions were kind.
With Sage came Elijah. He strode into the hotel in a dark purple suit and bright white shiny shoes with gold flecks. A black shirt with a gold bow tie completed his look. His reputation for flamboyant outfits wouldn’t suffer that night.
“Hey, hey, hey, it’s crunch time!” Elijah said, which didn’t help to calm Roxy’s nerves in the least. “Time to let the Funky Cat spread its wings and fly!”
“Cats fly now, do they?” Sam said.
“In some mediums,” said Sage, gravely. She was a vegetarian and loved animals. Her expertise in the spiritual realm gave her an otherworldly view of them. “On the human plane, cats’ wings are clipped.” She put her hand to her chest like she was in pain, feeling the cruelty toward the felines in her own heart. “But they do fly. In the astral sphere, they are free.”
The others stared back at her astonished as she looked at them seriously before bursting into giggles, clutching her chest.
“You should see your faces!” she said. “I am kidding! Well, mostly.” She winked at them.
“I don’t know when you’re kidding or serious, darling,” Elijah said to her. “It’s all weird and fantastic to me.” He turned to Roxy, kissing her on both cheeks. “Did you get those pastries I sent over? They are specially for the influencers.”
“Yep, I guessed.”
Elijah had made custom cupcakes for each of the guests. Each one was decorated with the Instagram logo and the guest’s name. “They look fantastic and adorable, Elijah. Thank you. Nat will deliver them to the guests’ rooms along with a personalized thermos of brandy milk punch while they’re eating so it’s a nice surprise for them after their meal, like a sort of nightcap.”
“Marvelous. You think of the finest of touches, girlfriend,” Elijah said.
Before long, Roxy’s important guests trickled in. Michael and Dash didn’t really do the whole tux thing, but they came down in linen suits and snappy dark brown leather shoes. Ada, the Nigerian socialite, was absolutely stunning in a long white gown that made her skin look richer than ever. It hugged her slim body, and she looked like a million bucks. Sylvia, the influencer from Maine, looked smart in a navy blue pantsuit and Mary Janes, while Lily, the tall, slightly haughty influencer who was staying in the penthouse suite, wore a little cocktail dress in pink. It was her favorite color. Her Instagram profile was awash with it.
Roxy had decided that all her friends would sit down to dinner with the influencers, just as they often did with her guests. This mingling of friends and visitors had been a part of the tradition of the hotel when it was Evangeline’s. It created a warm, homey atmosphere. Elijah was always on hand with a joke, and Sam could be relied on to charm the guests and provide great conversation. Sage exuded goodwill toward others and might read their fortunes, while Nat could be great fun under the right circumstances. She had been known to burst into glorious song after dinner and would take requests if she was in a particularly good mood. It was true that Evangeline wasn’t the most sociable of people, she certainly wasn’t a party animal or a social butterfly, but she could talk at length about New Orleans and would introduce the guests to all sorts of hidden attractions they would not have otherwise discovered. Roxy, of course, would be the consummate host.
CHAPTER SIX
AFTER CHAMPAGNE, THE influencers, Roxy, and her friends sat down at the table. Roxy had suggested offering canapés, but Evangeline had said she wasn’t a fan of all that “newfangled, posh fiddly stuff.” She preferred serving a good, hearty New Orleans dinner that didn’t come with any fussy, fancy crudités or appetizers. Instead, the meal began with gumbo.
Normally Evangeline would have made it thick and filling, but since they were having so many courses, they had decided a lighter version would be more appropriate. Naturally, the influencers got out their phones and began to snap pictures before they tucked in. Lily Vashchenko even arranged the napkin and cutlery in a delicate arrangement next to her bowl and angled the picture so that she got some of the lounge décors in the frame. Roxy was sure it would look impressive and made a mental note to check the post on Instagram later.
After the flurry of clicking and updating of statuses had been completed, the influencers settled down to eat, all of them seeming to enjoy the gumbo a great deal. They made the right noises, even Ada, and they all complimented Evangeline. After that, they moved on to the crawfish and cheese pie course where the frenzy of picture composition and status updating started all over again.
Roxy watched them, fascinated, and wondere
d how animated and raucous the night was going to get. Dash, in particular, seemed to be enjoying himself. There was plenty of wine on the table, and she noticed how he repeatedly filled up his glass with one of the reds from a local Louisiana winery.
“You really should drink white wine, you know,” Ada said, sniffing, “since we’re having so much fish.”
“Meh,” Dash said with a shrug. “I don’t really like white, to be honest. I’m more of a red-blooded man,” he winked, “if you know what I mean.”
Ada looked down her nose at him.
“You go ahead with your red,” Sylvia said kindly, then chuckled. “Live on the wild side!” She had barely touched her glass of white, and her champagne flute from earlier sat next to it, still half full.
“Wine messes with my palate.” Ada sipped her water with pursed lips. “I wouldn’t drink such cheap wine anyway.” At that, Roxy had to hold her tongue. It wasn’t a cheap wine! She’d taken a deep breath and splurged out on bottles that cost over $100 each. They were drinking some of the best wine produced in Louisiana. But Roxy guessed Ada was used to everything being super high-end luxury. Roxy had heard Ada mention her father’s private jet as she chatted to Lily when they were drinking their champagne before the meal.
Roxy had grown up with her single mother in a poor, rural area in Ohio. She had never met her father. She didn’t even know his name. So while drinking $100 bottles of wine in a boutique hotel might be a step down for Ada, it was an entire staircase up for Roxy, a life which, when she was younger, she never imagined living. People in the neighborhood where she was raised were doing well if they had a steady job, even if it was bagging at the local grocery store for minimum wage. As long as they could buy their own food and they had roofs over their heads, even if it was a trailer roof, they were relieved if not exactly content. Roxy imagined Ada walking through her old neighborhood, sniffing at the trailers and the children who played outside, some of whom had holes in their shoes. Their separate experiences of the world were completely different. But that didn’t matter now. Roxy was aware of her responsibility to her guests, her staff, and the wider community. They all depended upon the Funky Cat being a success. Roxy shook her head to bring herself back to the present.
Next came the main course, Shrimp Creole with rice and jalapeño cornbread. It was Roxy’s absolute favorite. Lily Vashchenko languidly snapped pictures of the “cute little ramekins,” taking a flower from one of the vases on the table to place it in her picture while everyone raved about the shrimp.
“Fabulous food, Nat, Roxy!” Sylvia said.
Even though Evangeline had done most of the work, the elderly woman kept quiet with a secret smile on her face, knowing that she was passing the glory of Creole and Cajun cooking onto the next generation. Roxy was extremely proud and glad that she was keeping this grand old tradition alive and was inordinately grateful to Evangeline for taking the time to teach them her recipes.
“Credit where it’s due. This is all thanks to Evangeline,” Nat said modestly.
Dash paused, his fork loaded. “Evangeline is a lovely name,” he said. “Where does it come from?”
“It’s Greek, right?” Michael began before Evangeline could even open her mouth.
Evangeline winked and said, “You’re right about that, cher. You’ve done your research. It means ‘bearer of good news’ so your luck might be in.” She looked at Dash and smiled. “Your name’s not that common. What does it mean? Apart from the obvious, of course.”
“It’s short for Dashiell,” he said. “It’s Scottish. Apparently, my ancestors came from the highest Highlands of Scotland, which probably means they were raving mad murderous warriors back in the thirteenth century or something. The name doesn’t mean anything as far as I am aware, at least nothing exciting.”
Nat laughed. “It does suit you, though! You’re always dashing around the place. You’re going to India one day, Canada the next! You dash all around the world. I’d love to do that!”
Dash leaned forward, his eyes bright with excitement. “So why don’t you?” he said in an encouraging voice. “I love experiencing different cultures, different types of people. And when I make a load more money from this Instagram and YouTube business, I want to help people. Build schools and hospitals. I can’t wait!” He breathed out, his eyes gleaming with visions of his dreams. “I think you should travel the world, Nat. It would give you a totally new perspective.”
Nat looked a little awkward and mumbled something about New Orleans feeling like home before dashing from the table to serve dessert.
“This is a lot of food,” Lily said, exhaling discreetly through full, pouting lips. “I can barely take another bite.” Lily had only been nibbling at her food, a bite here, a taste there. Roxy supposed that was how she maintained her lithe figure.
“It’s certainly very filling,” Michael agreed, as Dash snapped away, taking a picture of the warm bread pudding soaked with caramel and whiskey. Soft, slightly melted vanilla ice cream made waves through the brown sauce making it look delicious and lush. It smelled heavenly, and Roxy knew from experience it tasted even better.
Nevertheless, after all the snapping and posing and updating and submitting was over, they all, perhaps with the exception of Lily, fell on the pudding, silence pervading the room as they focused on the delicious dessert.
“Mmmm, this is slipping down a treat,” Sylvia said.
“We have cheese next,” Nat reminded them.
Michael took the camera from Dash and pointed it at him.
“Cheese? This is CRAZY,” Dash said into the camera. “Five courses…five! That’s how you know this is a real luxury place. You know, the local wine is really great too.” He raised his glass a little wildly and then lowered it to take a sip as he leaned into the camera. But as he did so, he knocked his chin against his wine glass.
“Dash!” Michael said, but it was too late. The damage was done. Dash’s red wine had launched itself all over Ada Okafor’s pristine white gown.
CHAPTER SEVEN
“OH, MY GOODNESS!” Ada shrieked, jumping to her feet. The front of her white dress was stained with so much red wine it looked like she’d been stabbed.
“Oh, oh, oh,” Roxy said, rushing over to her.
“Noooooo!” Dash said, his eyes bulging with horror. “I’m so, so sorry, Ada!”
Elijah leaned over, “Never fear, Elijah is here.” He started patting the stain with his napkin.
“Get your hands off me!” Ada screamed. Elijah snapped his hand back like a slapped child.
Sage didn’t make a move, but closed her eyes and placed her hands, palms upwards, her fingertips touching. She was an oasis of calm in an uproarious sea.
“Dash! You fool!” said Michael. He was still recording.
Evangeline, shaking her head like a disapproving grandmother, put her arm around Ada. “Come on, cher, no real harm done, let’s get you cleaned up.”
But Ada wriggled away. “You get off of me too!” She radiated fury. “How dare you! This is a Versace!” she shouted at Dash. “Do you know who I am? My father…”
“Sorry to interrupt!” Sam hollered over her. “But trust me, you need to act fast on that stain. I’m a laundry guy, and I know what I’m talking about.” They all swiveled their horrified gazes from Ada to Sam. “You’ll have to take your dress off and pour white wine over it fast. I’ll run to the laundry and get some proper stain remover. We can save your dress, but only if we move very quickly.” Sam dashed to the door and disappeared.
“Finally, someone who speaks sense,” Ada said, recovering some of her composure. She stood and began to strip down to her underwear in the middle of the dining room.
Roxy’s eyes widened. “Let me get you a robe!” she called over and rushed to her bedroom to fetch one.
Dash still looked horrified at what he’d done. He leaned back in his chair, his hands clasped across the top of his head. His partner, Michael, was deadpan as he recorded surreptitiously, the cam
era resting on the table, the shining red “record” button the only sign that it was on.
When Roxy hurried back, Nat, her eyes transfixed by the sight of Ada standing in the middle of the dining room in her underwear, was pressing her lips together so tightly they were white. Her throat was bobbing up and down. She was clearly trying not to laugh.
“Oh, so it’s funny, is it?” Ada said to Nat.
“The Universe has its little jokes with us sometimes, in this realm of chaos,” Sage said. Her low, soft voice could make any words sound soothing, but Ada looked at her like she had two heads.
Roxy offered her robe to the Nigerian woman who immediately swiped it from her, handing Roxy her red-stained dress in exchange. Roxy took it and glared at Nat, “Come with me into the kitchen to fix this up.” Nat didn’t respond immediately. “Nat!”
But Nat didn’t move fast enough, so Roxy grabbed her by the wrist, pulling her into the kitchen. She shut the door behind them. “What are you playing at?” she hissed while finding some white wine to douse the dress with. “Don’t you know this is all going on the Internet? This could ruin us! Why are you grinning?”
“What?” said Nat, smiling. Roxy couldn’t remember the last time she felt so angry. Then Nat sighed. “Oh…okay, I see what you mean. Sorry, it was just a teentsy-weentsy bit funny. She just stood in the mid…” Nat looked like she was about to burst into a fit of giggles again.
“Stop it! You’re jeopardizing everything!” Roxy hissed, still furious, and, if she were honest, scared to death at what this debacle might mean for her business. “It’s bad enough that this has happened, but you’re staff! You can’t laugh at her!”
“I didn’t actually laugh!” Nat protested.
“Near enough. Look, pull yourself together. I know you don’t like her, but still.”
Nat stifled her giggles, “You’re right. I’m sorry. How can I help?”
2 New Orleans Nightmare Page 3
