Revelations: The Black Chalice (Revelations Series Book 1) Page 3

  As soon as the heavy glass door swung shut, I let out my breath. I hadn’t even realized I’d been holding it.

  Dale rounded on me. “What the hell is wrong with you?” His eyes were wide; he looked shocked. “What was that? Hello? What happened to Eve? My gracious, polite coworker?” He rubbed my shoulder solicitously. “What’s wrong with you?”

  “I… I don’t know.”

  “Are you ill? We knew he was coming! We know everyone who walks through that door!”

  “I know, Dale. I just… I just wasn’t expecting… him.”

  Dale’s eyebrows furrowed, and he leaned closer to me. “Do you know him? What did you say to him when he got to the counter? He looked confused.”

  I stuttered for a moment, not sure what to say, and Dale’s mouth dropped open in horror. He pulled me into a hug. “Oh God, did he remind you of someone? Of something that happened to you? Oh, Eve, honey, are you okay?”

  I waved him away and finally pulled myself together. “No, no. I’m fine. It’s not... that.” The last thing I wanted to do was explain to Dale that I’d seen this man in my dreams only a few short hours ago. That I’d studied every inch of his perfect face.

  “I greeted him with the wrong name. I made a mistake,” I said, giving Dale a lopsided smile. “And he was confused. You know how you get on day-sleeps, Dale. Sometimes you have a bad one, and you’re a little messed up for your night shift.”

  “I know how it is, Eve. I’m just worried about you. If Martin finds out that you greeted a guest with the wrong name...”

  I turned away from Dale to check the security monitors, sprawled over the far side of the reception desk. “But he’s not going to find out, is he?” I sang out.

  “No, of course not. But Eve…. are you sure—”

  “Dale, I’m okay,” I said firmly. “It’s one o’clock in the morning. We’ve got four more hours, and we can hit the bar for a knock-off drink. And I’ll relax, and shake it off. I’ll get a good day sleep and I’ll be fine for our shift tomorrow night.”

  “If you’re sure...” Dale still looked hesitant.

  “I’m sure,” I replied absently, still watching the monitor carefully. A few seconds later, Alex Sorensen’s hunky figure appeared on the screen, walking toward the Banksia bungalow. He strode with purpose and power, and, while I watched, he lifted his head and looked straight at the security camera.

  I got the feeling he knew I was watching him.

  He smiled and walked off-screen.

  Chapter Four

  The night creatures had quietened, and the air had cooled just a fraction. But it was still dark and warm when Dale and I stepped down the path that led to the staff bar. Thick, waxy leaves of the jungle plants lined the path and brushed me as I walked by; I swung my arms out slightly to feel them better, imagining that they were stroking me lovingly. My nerves had been pulled tightly all night, but I felt like I was finally beginning to relax.

  “Ahhhh...” Sighing with pleasure, I threw my head back and looked up. “I’m glad that shift is over.”

  The stars were very close tonight; the Southern Cross was right overhead, twinkling like scattered diamonds over the velvet blackness of the sky. In an hour, dawn would start to break, and the magic of night would start to slip away.

  It was one of the reasons I’d asked for the night shift. I loved the night. It seemed like it was always tinged with excitement, with possibilities—much more so than the days ever held.

  Nothing bad had ever happened to me at night. All the bad things had happened in the daytime.

  “It wasn’t great, was it?” Dale piped up. “It would have been better if you weren’t hell-bent on giving me anxiety with your scatterbrained-ness.”

  I nudged him. “I was fine for the rest of the night.”

  “You were,” he said, nodding. “And if only Clover could reign herself in, I might be able to stop worrying about you two completely.”

  I smirked. As soon as the clock hit five and we’d officially finished for the night, Clover had headed upstairs to “check” on Magnus Dent, a famous young artist who was visiting Revelations to get some inspiration out of the caves. He also happened to be extremely good-looking, in a lanky, manic kind of way.

  Dale and I followed the path past all the bungalows and headed toward the staff quarters. The staff building was screened by the lush jungle that hugged the perimeter of the resort, and it was accessible only by a tiny gate lodged in between two native nutmeg trees. Dale pushed the gate open, and we walked to the side of the staff quarters toward the outdoor staff bar.

  The small crowd was already a little rowdy. Most of the twenty or so night staff were in the corner, ordering their end-of-shift drinks from Toby, who had shifted his official duties to the staff bar for one more hour. We walked around the pool, narrowly missing being splashed by one of the bellboys. Dale nudged me and pointed to the space to the right of the pool, the dance floor area, where a bejewelled older woman was swaying with her arms around one of the valets.

  It wasn’t unusual to see a guest in the staff bar. As always, the guest experience was the most important thing, and occasionally, one of them would want to act out their Dirty Dancing fantasies. Sneaking into the staff quarters to make out with the hired help would give the guest a rush they wouldn’t get anywhere else.

  We never told the guests where the staff bar was, of course, and it was difficult to find if you didn’t know where you were going. But if they found us, we’d let them sneak in. And we’d never modify our behavior when we spotted them. We were allowed to be ourselves—rowdy, maudlin, tipsy… whatever. The staff bar was the only place we were allowed to be rude to the guests, as long as it went along with their fantasy, of course.

  If anything ever went too far, Martin would gently guide the guest away, with soothing platitudes about insurances and whatnot. And we’d go back to kissing their butts in the resort the next day, where the natural order of things was re-established.

  The guests loved it.

  And it was kinda fun. I got to watch Clover spanking a high court judge on the dance floor a few weeks back.

  Dale nipped behind the bar with a nimbleness that betrayed his size, ducked past Toby, and grabbed a bottle of Tequila and a couple of tumblers from underneath him. I rolled my eyes—tequila shots were probably what we needed, but I didn’t have Dale’s tolerance. I swung around a couple of night maids and picked up a handful of lime wedges and a bottle of apple juice.

  We wouldn’t get in trouble, not even if we were caught. The staff bar was for us to blow off steam, and most of the staff did that very well. It could be very isolating here at Revelations; we were a good hour’s drive from any other form of civilization. The management trusted us to do what was best for our mental health, and if that meant we would do shots and skinny dip in the pool, well, as long as there were no complaints, we were free to get nude.

  But I never got wild. I would never put myself in any awkward positions; it was far too dangerous for me. But it was fun to watch the others.

  “Come on,” Dale said, swinging the bottle under one arm and hugging me with the other. “Let’s sit in the corner, and you can work out whatever the hell is wrong with you and shove it deep inside this bottle.”

  We made our way to the far side of the pool, toward a small table with a bench seat. It was a great spot where we could watch the whole bar. The jungle behind us was lush and so green it glowed, and it hugged us on three sides. There were big fan palms right behind us, and I liked to imagine they were giant fans held by helpful wood nymphs, pampering me as I relaxed in the rising sun.

  I sank into a seat and sighed. “I don’t know, Dale. There’s nothing wrong. Not really. I just had a bad—no, a weird dream last night, and I… I…” I trailed off.

  Dale waited patiently for me to continue.

  There was no way in hell that I was going to tell him about the angel in my dream, showing up at reception. But there was still something that I felt like I
needed to explain, just to get it straight in my head. “I just... I think I just… I felt something shift.”

  He put his head to the side. “What do you mean, something?”

  “I don’t know. Something inside of me, I guess.” I frowned. “I feel like I’ve just woken up, and everything that has happened to me so far in my life has been a dream.”

  “Well, that sounds like an improvement.”

  My frown deepened. He knew very well what my life had been like before. “Yes, but also no. My childhood still happened to me, my adolescence… it’s just that I am starting to feel those parts of me don’t matter at all. That I’m becoming who I’m really supposed to be.”

  He gave me a wide smile. “Is this something that Farrah said would happen?”

  Farrah was my therapist. She knew more about me than anyone. She, along with Margot, had put me back together when I’d been smashed apart.

  “Not exactly. She did say that there would come a day when I’d realize that my past did not define me. That I could choose how it affected me. But I… I kinda felt like I’d gone through that already.”

  Dale nodded sagely. “I think you have. You’re not nearly as messed up as what you could be, considering.”

  “And so I don’t know what I mean when I say I think I’m going through a… a shift.” I grimaced, acutely aware of how stupid I sounded.

  Dale reached out and tipped a slug of tequila into my glass, and then sloshed a bit into his own. He raised it and nodded at me. “Well, maybe it’s not just one kind of enlightenment that you’re supposed to achieve. Maybe it’s a whole series of enlightenments.”

  I quickly added a bit of apple juice into my own glass and raised it, toasting him. “Maybe you’re right.”

  But it didn’t feel right. It felt like much, much more than that. Cataclysmic. The word thrilled through me, but it didn’t scare me.

  Farrah had always taught me to acknowledge my feelings. To feel them, to get deep inside them in order to understand them better. It was only through knowledge that we could evolve. And I’d done a great job of working out my feelings about my past. In between Margot and Farrah, I’d done so well. But now, I was feeling... unsettled.

  It could easily be about Alexander Sorensen. Like all straight men, he scared the crap out of me.

  But he felt… different.

  Before I could dwell too much on my weird feelings, I spotted Clover sauntering into the bar, her hair slightly dishevelled and her hips swinging a little more than usual. She did a quick scan, spotted us, and made her way over, picking up a can of beer from Toby’s outstretched hand on the way.

  “Hey, guys!”

  Dale threw her a salute. “You’re back quick!”

  “Well, it was a quick one.” Clover shook her head ruefully. “Artists,” she shrugged. “They’re so full of fire, but damn, they burn out quickly.” She plopped down on the seat beside me and nudged me with her elbow. “And sorry, Eve, but Martin wants to speak with you. He’s doing the handover to the day crew at Reception.”

  I gripped my glass a little tighter. “Did someone complain?”

  Clover tilted her head. “No. At least, I don’t think so. He didn’t seem angry or annoyed.”

  “He never does,” Dale drawled.

  “That’s not true—remember last State of Origin?”

  “Oh, yes. Who would have thought the only thing that would piss off Martin would be his team losing the football?”

  I got to my feet, taking a slug of my drink as I rose. “I guess I better go and see what he wants.”

  “Hurry back,” Dale called. “I want you to read my latest fanfic!”

  “And we’re going to need more tequila for that!’ Clover’s voice floated over to me as I skirted the pool and flung open the Staff Quarter’s gate.

  The deep-blue midnight sky was starting to lighten as I hurried along the path, back past the bungalows. The pool and cabanas were quieter now. Even time-zone-immune rich folks would feel the magic of the night disappear, and they’d feel compelled to hide from the dawn. There were still a few guests around, but I kept my head down and moved quickly so no one would stop me.

  I pulled open the heavy glass doors and walked into Reception. Martin was in a huddle with the day receptionists, three girls and a boy I’d only ever nodded at. We were like ships in the night.

  Martin heard the door swing shut and he turned to me. “Oh Eve, good, you’re here. Okay, you lot.” He nodded at the day guys. “Get cracking. We’ve got two sheiks, three CEOs and a Scottish earl checking in today; get yourselves ready.”

  The others flittered away and started scanning reports. Martin waved me closer.

  “Thanks for coming back. Any guests in the staff bar?”

  “Just Mrs. Sanderson. She’ll be back in her suite before Mr. Sanderson notices she’s missing.”

  Martin frowned. “I hope whatever bellboy she’s wrapped around makes sure of that.”

  I took a deep breath. “We know the rules, Martin. So, am I in trouble?”

  He looked at me, slightly bewildered. “Trouble? Oh, for that thing with Mrs. Crocker? No, honey. No.” He patted my shoulder. “She didn’t register it. And she’d feel like a fool if she complained about it now.”

  I exhaled with relief. “So why did you want to see me?”

  “Well, I just wanted to see if you were okay. No jungle madness?” He tilted his head back and looked me sternly in the eye.

  It was an actual thing. We were so isolated here, every now and then a staff member would go a bit mad and have to be shipped off to Cairns, the closest city, for a dose of the real world.

  “Nope, not yet. I know I messed up with Mrs. Crocker, but I’ll own it. I even feel bad that I made a joke about her weight.”

  “Good. Well, no more sass. If you value your job.”

  “I do. Thanks, Martin.” I smiled at him with genuine warmth. It was only that moment that I realized how worried I had been that I was going to get fired. It must have been what put me off-kilter for the rest of the night.

  Now that I thought about it, it explained everything. I was so worried that Mrs. Crocker would call up and complain about me that I mistook the handsome Mr. Sorensen for some random hot guy from a stupid dream I’d had last night.

  The relief seeped through me. I wasn’t going crazy after all. My dreams weren’t coming true. Thank God. Suddenly I was eager to get back to Dale and Clover so we could have our couple of knock-off drinks and stumble in to bed, and I could wipe out this day for good.

  I gave Martin a smile and turned to go, but he gripped my shoulder, stopping me. “Oh, before you go, I had an expression of interest about you.”

  I could almost hear him putting the words into quotation marks.

  “A what?”

  “A guest asked about you. I thought, for some reason, this time I should let you know.” He put his head to the side. “It was a little different.”

  I was bewildered. “A guest asked what about me?” I shook my head. “And what do you mean, ‘this time’?”

  Martin’s eyes softened, and his voice dropped. “Eve, I know that we had that conversation when you first started here. When that racehorse owner asked about you.”

  I swallowed heavily. I remembered the icky sliminess I’d felt when it happened; an echo of it seeped through me all over again. “Yes, I remember. He was interested in me, and you were checking to see if I was interested.”

  “Well, I remember what you told me, so I gave him the Sheik.”

  I frowned. “Okay, Martin, I’m not following. The what?”

  “It’s an excuse I give to guests who express interest in our staff who don’t return that interest.”

  “I’m still not following you.”

  He mashed his mouth into a line, like he was trying not to laugh. “Okay, well, you know that some of your co-workers enjoy a little off-duty action…”

  “Clover. You can say her name, Martin. Clover likes the off-duty action.”r />
  He was openly laughing now. “Yes. Well, with Clover, as soon as a guest asks me if she’s interested in a dalliance, I just give her a wink and a nod, and she’s off. If she frowns and shakes her head, I give the guest one of a variety of carefully selected excuses to fob them off.”

  “And one is called the Sheik?”

  “I just tell the guest that Clover is currently under the protection of whatever Arab sheik is highest on the Forbes list at the moment. That she’s a favored girlfriend and is not allowed to see anyone else.”

  I cocked an eyebrow. “Okay, so a guest asked if I was up for it, and now you’re checking to see if I’m interested?”

  “Well, no, not really. He didn’t exactly ask if you were interested, just…”

  I shook my head, waiting for him to go on.

  “He was asking about you. Where you came from, how old you were, what your parents did, that kind of thing.”

  That was unusual. Most of the time, guests looked right through me. “Well, my position hasn’t exactly changed, Martin. You know why. It’s not… safe for me.”

  “Well, I did give him the Sheik.” Martin suddenly frowned and looked distraught. “But he didn’t believe me.”

  “What?” I gasped dramatically, putting a hand on my chest. “Someone didn’t believe your constant, conniving manipulations? Nooooo.”

  He whacked me lightly on the arm. “Hush now. But in all seriousness, on a rare occasion that someone doesn’t believe me the first time, I’ll give them a new, watertight excuse that explains my first deception and adequately puts the guest off.”

  I huffed out my breath. “Just tell me, Martin.”

  Martin frowned. “I would advise the guest that the object of their lust is HIV positive.” He lowered his voice and moved closer to me. “Eve, you know that our guests are our charming, loving friends. But, occasionally, some of them are just disgusting, entitled maggots. If one of these rich fuckheads is arrogant enough to think they have the right to sleeze onto our staff, and the fear of getting assassinated by one of the richest men on earth doesn’t put them off, then the thought of getting an STD is more than likely to do the trick.”