My Own Personal Rockstar(47)
Author: Kirsty McManus

“What was your name again?” she asks.

“Emily. McIntosh.”

“Ah, that’s right. And just remind me. What role were you applying for?”

“The night manager position.”

“Of course, of course.” She squints her eyes as if studying me carefully. “Well, you look pretty suitable to me. Do you have any questions?”

I stare at her disbelievingly. Surely she’s not going to give me the job purely based on my appearance? “Uh, do you know the breakdown of the night manager’s schedule? Is it forty hours a week?”

“Oh, you’ll have to ask them when you get there. That’s not something I would know.”

Okaaayyy…I try again. “You mentioned the position is at the Coco Bay Island Resort. I don’t think I’ve heard of it before.”

“Ah. Now that is something I can answer.” She shuffles around in a drawer tucked into the side of her desk and pulls out a brochure, sliding it across to me. “This should contain everything you need to know about the place.”

I flick through the colour pages, admiring the glossy photos advertising paradise. Coconut palms lean over white sand that fringes a calm aqua-blue sea. Tropical bungalows sit on stilts over the water—and it looks like there are multiple swimming pools and restaurants on the property. It even has a day spa.

“It’s beautiful,” I breathe.

“I know,” she says proudly. She looks down at a piece of paper with a few notes scrawled on it in green ink. “It has twenty over-water villas and an additional one hundred and twenty rooms in the main building. There are three restaurants: a twenty-four-hour buffet, a poolside bar, and a silver-service dining room that employs a Michelin-starred chef.”

“That sounds amazing.”

“Oh, wait, you don’t get seasick, do you?”

“Uh, not to my knowledge. Why?”

“Because you can only reach the island by boat. Well, that or seaplane, but the island doesn’t own one of those.”

“That shouldn’t be a problem.” In fact, it sounds ideal. That means I won’t feel obligated to return to Brisbane so often. If at all.

I try to think of anything else I should ask. The unusual nature of the interview has scrambled my brain. “What about accommodation? And meals?”

“All included, apparently.”

“That’s perfect.”

She beams. “Well, if that’s all you need to know…”

I feel like I should ask more questions, but she seems to want to end the meeting.

“What happens next in the recruiting process?” I quickly ask.

She blinks. “Oh, we’re done. You’ve got the job. Congratulations! You start on Monday, so you’ll need to head up to Mackay and be waiting at the resort’s mainland jetty on Sunday afternoon at 4:30pm. Does that work for you?”

I almost laugh out loud but manage to maintain a professional façade. “It works very well for me. Thank you for this opportunity.”

She stands up and ushers me out. “It was lovely meeting you…sorry, I’ve already forgotten your name.”

“Emily.”

“Yes! Emily. Well, good luck with everything. I’ll forward through all the paperwork to your email this afternoon.”

“Great. Thanks again.”

I hurry out before she can change her mind. Not that I imagine she would. The woman was bonkers! It does make me wonder how the resort came to choose her for their recruitment, but if it means I have a job back in tourism, I’m not complaining.

I ride the elevator down to the ground floor, humming happily all the way. I’m in such a good mood, I actually feel like contacting someone to share the news.

I get out my brand-new Australian phone and scroll through the local numbers in my contacts. Thank God for technology, which stored all these peoples’ details in the cloud for five years. I stop when I see my dad’s name on the list. Should I call him? He might be upset if he knew I’d been back in the country for a month and hadn’t tried to phone. And since I’m about to leave again, there’s no harm in a quick conversation.

I press dial and wait for him to answer. My heart pounds, despite my attempts to pretend this is no big deal.

The call goes to voicemail, and the relief that immediately floods my veins proves I’m not yet ready to talk to my father.

“Uh, hi, Dad. It’s me. I just wanted to let you know I’m back in Australia, but I’m about to start working at a resort in the Whitsundays. I’ll call you again once I’ve settled in.”

I hang up and feel a little guilty I was so easily let off the hook. The extent of communication with my dad over the last five years has been the occasional email, or a stilted call at Christmas or on one of our birthdays. We have a complicated relationship, so I’ve always found it easiest to limit contact.

I scroll through more phone numbers and pause on Seb’s. I know it’s disconnected, but I try it again anyway. Seb and I were only together for a month—right before I moved to Vancouver—but I’m not sure I ever got over him.

The familiar standard message plays in my ear. “Your call could not be connected. Please check the number and try again.”

I open the browser on my phone and type in Sebastian Einhorn.

The usual results come up, none with any link to the guy I know.

A quick check on Twitter, Instagram, and Facebook shows he hasn’t recently created an account on any social media platforms either.

I guess I’ll just have to celebrate the new job by myself.

I used to share all my good news with Ryan, but since he backstabbed me, that’s obviously not going to happen. Anyway, I’ve always enjoyed my own company, so it seems fitting I should prepare for this next chapter solo as well.

Life is so much easier when you don’t have to worry about other people letting you down.

Read the rest here: https://mybook.to/WelcomeToCocoBay

ALSO BY KIRSTY MCMANUS

Before Coco Bay

https://mybook.to/BeforeCocoBay

Mind Reader

https://mybook.to/MindReader

I Thought It Was You

https://mybook.to/IThoughtItWasYou

1997

https://mybook.to/1997

1996