French Cup: A Neighborhood Story

Chapter 106: -Gyeong-Wan- Don't Order the Salmon

Sweet, yet dramatic tones were twinkling out of the little used grand piano off to the side of the lobby. It was tucked into an alcove, and usually had red velvet ropes around it to dissuade guests. Those ropes had been breached. 

A victory in itself, Chidori had returned and was there as her Prince persona. Elegant, dressed in a long light blue coat with bunched cream colored organza from the collar going along the trim and to the floor. The wig was magnificent, something from Marie Antoinette's time. Standing next to her, gazing at her lovingly, was Hanako in a long and gold colored Grecian dress. His light brown wig was up in an ambitious and high style with thin golden ropes tying it down and hanging around his face. Together, they were playing and singing lounge music for everyone. 

Under the largest chandelier of the lobby, others were playing blackjack and small card games. We'd given them the card packs that we sometimes gave out for free to our most elite guests. On the back of each card, like a mockery now, was our hotel's emblem. These weren't hotel guests at all. In fact, now all of the hotel guests had gone. 

Earlier, we'd gone room by room. It had taken about twenty minutes to confirm that the hotel was indeed empty. Relieved housekeeping and kitchen staff had wearily rejoiced at the news and finally left, too. At this, we'd opened the doors. Announced to all outside that they were victorious. What followed was completely unexpected. 

Everyone from outside flooded in. It was as if a mighty dictator had seen a major victory. The war was won, and now to the spoils. Occupying the hotel, but was it really occupation? Hadn't it been theirs to begin with? 

The more I listened to Hanako and Chidori, watched people playing and talking, saw them eating in our restaurant and welcoming those they knew as old friends, the more I saw that this is how it should have been from the start. If my company had researched the neighborhood and seen what they'd torn down, they could have built it back up. If only they'd seen it, like I had. 

At the front desk, I was enjoying a special moment. Behind the desk, I watched Kazuya hand a card key over to someone wearing clothes that brought to mind the idea of a traditional gypsy. Helping out, just like he had at Charlotte's theater. At the staircase, Nikki was guiding people up to their rooms. He looked so natural there, among those who were like him. It made sense, because despite the chandelier and the new and fancy carpet, it was a space he probably knew. 

"Please enjoy," Kazuya smiled at the guest- no, it wasn't a guest. They were simply a new friend. Something shifted in my mind, thinking of someone this way. The woman grinned to him and her companion followed, going toward the staircase. 

Someone was going to get in trouble for this. For the whole thing. And that person was in the basement, refusing to come out. The general manager knew how deep he was in this. It only made my hand curl around Kazuya's, holding it tighter than I would have. Right in front of everybody, in this hotel. This glory and spoils of my own. 

He glanced at me, smiling. Just him being behind the desk created the best feeling I'd ever had, but he was also dressed in his drag. The cameras were still working, and they were getting it all. He started to move his hips from side to side, and the enormous tulle of his pink dress swished back and forth. 

"Are you tired?" I asked him. Glancing at the clock on the computer, it was past 10PM. When was the last time he'd slept? I tried to calculate it in my head, but there were too many numbers. He shook his head, but he looked tired. "Hungry?" I asked, trying to get him to admit one thing or the other. 

"Um..." He glanced around the lobby. Everyone seemed happy and content. A huge noise erupted in another alcove, cheers going up. It had been the clatter of a Jenga tower falling. His hand went to his mouth and he laughed at this. He nodded finally, taking the bait. 

I tugged his other hand. "Let's get something to eat. I bet it's a limited menu, but they're serving."

He giggled as we emerged from behind the desk together. We observed people sleeping on the couches and in the chairs. They were exhausted, but it had been well fought and deserved. Leading him through chairs that had been bunched together, plates and silverware on the carpet, abandoned pizza boxes from our earlier victory with the news station. His hand went over his mouth again, and I couldn't get over how much he really did look like Glinda the Good Witch.

"What?" I asked, taken with his cuteness. His eyes were large, seeing what I was seeing.

"I can't believe I'm here," he said. We stopped together, in the middle of it. He briefly gazed above him and I did, too. We were right under a lesser chandelier shaped like hanging crystals. "The last time I was here, I didn't see much. I was overwhelmed. I just wanted to see you and get out. But now?"

I squeezed his hand, and he smiled. 

"It's all over now," he sighed, resuming walking and I kept pace. "The hotel has to do something now. Either arrest all of us, or change. That's what we want. Destroy us completely or change. French Cup was almost destroyed, so..." He stopped speaking, suddenly getting quieter. I got the message, though. 

"They'll have to change. I have nothing to lose. I can cancel all of the reservations that we have. We can lose our entire booking system." Going over a plan in my head. Spontaneous, but it was infectious. I was the only front desk agent who was still here. I'd be the only one who knew what I'd done. I could cancel every reservation, and then the hotel would have to start from scratch.

He shook his head. "That sounds like a crime. I don't want you to do that." His pretty lips disappeared into his mouth and then popped out again. "I don't know what comes next, but we made our statement. We'll do it again if they remain with how they were doing things."

As he spoke, it was as if he were a changed person. Someone much more confident. It was the same person I'd seen on that stage earlier. He'd been there, dancing as if he commanded the entire world. Nothing would shake him, and now here he was again. That same person on stage and off. It made a surge of fire appear in my heart for him, swirling around it. Wanting him to feel this way all of the time. 

As we entered the restaurant, there was no one to greet us. We sat down at a table near the door and I let him see one of our menus which were held in a small metal container in the middle of the table. We were reading down them when someone approached our table.

"No menus," the stranger said. "It's just spaghetti and all the salmon I've ever seen. Why is there so much salmon?"

I put my menu down. "Ah, yes. That's our specialty. We make a lot of salmon dishes, because this is usually an upscale seafood restaurant." 

"'Our'?" He asked, with hesitation. He quickly glanced up and down my suit. But, thankfully Kazuya's elegantly gloved hand went on the stranger's arm. Happily, I noticed the fingers were stained with a little pizza sauce. 

"It's okay, he's not with them," he explained so easily. 

The stranger nodded in a relieved way. "So, what would you like? Spaghetti or salmon?"

I gave Kazuya a look. He smiled so beautifully. He turned his attention on the stranger again. "We'll have spaghetti."

"Good choice," the stranger sighed in relief as he walked away. "I don't think your new chef knows how to cook salmon."

I mouthed the words, "new chef?" towards Kazuya. He giggled behind his hand, where I saw the pizza sauce stains again. It only warmed my heart further. This arrangement of someone I didn't know cooking our food made me uncomfortable for a second, but then I realized: how many times does one actually know who's cooking for them in a restaurant?

This caused me to relax, and I took Kazuya's hands, shoving the metal menu holder away. He saw this, and a sneaky smile appeared on his lips. With a sweep of his wrist, like a dissatisfied cat, the menu holder clattered loudly onto the floor. Startled noises came from the tables surrounding us, but soon there was only laughter.

The sounds of menu holders crashing to the fine tiled floor became a song, serenading us as everyone cheered. One more rope taken from around our necks, no matter how small.