Page 6 of My Lucky Star
“I know.” I didn’t mean to roll my eyes, but there may have been some upward movement. “I checked the listing, but there were only two photos of the interior, and nothing of the rooms. The janitor I saw leaving said his wife cleans there and she’s coming back later today. I’ll try to catch her, see if I can take a few more pics.”
“Great. You do that and I’ll...” Janie left, her attention on her phone as she sailed away to her next appointment.
Apart from the film office, she ran a small farm and looked after her two children, chickens and pigs, as well as gave occasional interviews on why she’d left her high profile TV presenter job and escaped to the country.
She was the one who’d made it, then happily given it all up, two things I’d never experience. I could still remember those uncomfortable silences during my job interview. I wanted to agree with her. After all, I needed the job, but I probably couldn’t hide my pang of jealousy when she described her previous life in Auckland, the one she dismissed as meaningless.
I scanned her beautifully aged face and lithe body, looking for clues. Why would she want to give it up? She still had it – the looks and talent that had made her a household name. She could have continued for several years. What was so amazing about keeping piglets and composting feces?
“Don’t work too hard!” Janie called from the door.
It was her motto – one that Pete had taken to heart. He’d appeared around 9:30 a.m. to do some admin, then disappeared for a two-hour lunch and had now spent the rest of the afternoon boxing T-shirts he sold online. They had nothing to do with the film office, but he said it was easier to do the packing in the office than in his flat. Janie didn’t seem to mind, as long as he did his hours.
After a few minutes, I clicked ‘send’ on my last email and let out a deep sigh. “Okay, I’m off. See you tomorrow!”
Pete waved from the couch, his grey rat tail bobbing to the music in his headphones.
I found my car baking in the afternoon sun, boiling hot inside so I rolled down every window, groaning at the heat. What I really wanted was a long, breezy beach walk, but I had to sort out this hotel business first. This could be the one achievable dream I’d finally make true.
My hopes were dashed as I arrived at the hotel and found no cars in the driveway. The neighboring buildings seemed equally quiet – empty shop fronts advertised ‘for rent’. With only the ocean on the other side, this pocket of Napier had a bit of a ghost town feel.
I left my car out front and snuck along the driveway to check behind the building.
As I reached the back door, I heard a faint sound. It seemed to be coming from inside the building – a steady thumping I couldn’t identify. Was someone inside? Maybe they’d started renovations after all. I rushed back to the front entrance. The door remained closed, but I could still hear the thumping, and it was definitely coming from inside.
I inched closer to the door until my ear was pressed against it. I could have knocked like a normal person, but I’d become too invested in sneaking around. To be honest, my life hadn’t contained a lot of excitement lately and maybe that’s why the simple act of eavesdropping fired up my nerves like an imminent audition.
The thumping ceased and I heard footsteps. Spooked, I jerked back and knocked on the door.
I waited, then knocked a little harder, but since there was no answer, I finally turned the knob. Unlocked.
I pushed the door open and tiptoed in. “Hello!”
What I saw caught me so off guard I tumbled backwards, hitting my back on the heavy door as it closed behind me.
A man hung from what looked like an original Art Deco staircase, his fingers gripping the ledge, legs dangling in the air and muscles rippling as he moved up and down. Pull-ups. He was doing pull-ups in boxer shorts. The staircase wobbled, letting out a squeaky cry every time he moved. What if it all came down?
“Stop!” I cried.
It came out more alarmed than I’d intended, but it worked. He let go and landed on the original kauri floor with the grace of a cat, but with such solid weight that the old wooden planks transmitted the vibration all the way to my feet. As he pivoted on his heels, his glossy, dark curls caught the evening light. He removed his wireless earphones, blinking at me.
“Is there a problem?” He had a ridiculously gorgeous face, a dark beard and a foreign accent that made me think of Kerim.
“No... I’m concerned about the building. Actually, I’m interested in the building. We have a possible movie production looking for a space like this and I really wanted to check the interior.” I cleared my throat, aware I was staring.
Small droplets of sweat glistened on his olive skin, backlit by the light streaming through a small window behind the reception desk. The lighting felt deliberate, as if he stood on a movie set, ready to film a scene millions of women would later ogle at.
I’m not sure how long I stared at him with my mouth agape, but as my gaze finally returned to his face, I wasn’t expecting him to stare at me. I mean, he was the one in his underwear, yet I caught his eyes roaming my body so shamelessly I instinctively crossed my arms, wondering if my T-shirt was see-through.
Eventually, he shifted his stance, swiping the back of his hand across his forehead. A trickle of sweat ran down his arm and he winced. “I’m sorry. I forgot to bring a towel. Do you mind if we continue this upstairs?”
Continue what? Ogling?
Not waiting for my answer, he headed to the stairs, light on his feet like a panther. Against my better judgment, I followed, leaving a respectful distance, but close enough not to lose sight of him. He leapt the last three stairs as if he’d mastered gravity, a force I felt very much bound by as I gripped the well-worn baluster for support.
When I made it to the top of the stairs, I saw him disappear into one of the rooms along the narrow hallway. Slowly, my brain made room for other visual input, such as the patterned Art Deco carpet. It was perfect. Worn, but original. How had this place survived? Most of Napier had been renovated many times since the 1930s, with the loss of much of the original decor.
“You can come closer.”
