Chapter Twenty-Three #2
A gentle tide of empathy washes over me. I want to unbuckle my seat belt, reach over, and hug him. Explore this newfound closeness between us. A closeness that seems so natural, yet confrontationally dangerous. Job-affecting dangerous .
‘That’s so nice, Dan,’ I say, offering a warm smile. Though I don’t look over at him too long.
*
With it being a cloudless day, the water at Noosa appears almost as bright and blue as it does in photos. Through the gaps in the streets, I see squiggles of turquoise water dot the shores.
We drive toward the Noosa River’s newest luxury hotel, Blue, which only opened last month. Since then, the hotel has featured in magazines and done the rounds on socials from influencers. Now, Untold Media is getting in on the complimentary action with a three-night stay.
You can’t miss the hotel. It stands out as its name suggests: a resort with baby blue exteriors right on the waterfront, overpowering mostly every building in sight.
‘Holy shit,’ is all I say as we drive through the blue gates to arrive at the valet parking rink.
A shiny silver Porsche is parked beside a blue Bentley in the rainbow-shaped rink. A handsome young man wearing a tight tuxedo approaches Dan’s car the moment we pull in. The hotel towers over us, nestled between neat clusters of tall, slender palm trees.
‘Welcome to Blue, gentlemen,’ the man greets us, his arms tucked behind his back.
‘Thank you,’ I say, my anticipation reaching its peak as we tell him our names. He marks them off an iPad before taking Dan’s keys.
‘Oh, you’re here for the media famil?’
‘Indeed,’ Dan replie s.
I’m clearly too busy studying where we’ve just arrived. The front courtyard is dotted with Greek statues, and the sun on my skin makes it clear that winter’s nowhere to be found today.
We’re ushered into the lobby, which is filled with well-dressed people.
A blue crystal chandelier hangs above the room.
And although Dan and I are wearing button up shirts, I still feel a tad underdressed.
It’s an influencer’s paradise, and even better than I imagined from the photos.
No wonder they want Brisbane residents to know about this place.
My bewildered gaze shifts to the striped blue and white-themed pool area. Beyond it is a wall-to-wall window that creates a postcard worthy view out to the river.
‘Next please,’ the receptionist to the far left calls out, her hand raised. She looks like a doppelg?nger of Miranda Kerr, and, as we saunter over, I have to remind myself it’s not her.
After she studies our IDs, she says, ‘One moment, please,’ and walks over to the man at the back of the reception line.
He’s dressed differently from the rest of the workers, wearing a darker shade of blue.
Borderline navy. She whispers something to him.
He looks over at us and gives us a smile that looks so fake it could belong to a horror movie villain.
He follows her back to us. ‘Hi, welcome. Nice to meet both of you,’ he says in a mix of sauve and camp. I’m not sure which is more prevalent. He holds his hand out and shakes both of our hands with overwhelming haste.
His firm grip almost makes me want to grimace, but I hold b ack on pure fact that the cheapest hotel room here is eight hundred dollars a night, and we’re in the most expensive one. Instead, I smile with gratitude.
‘I’m Nicholas Gage, the general manager of Blue,’ he tells us, as if we should be bowing down to him or something.
‘For a second I thought you said Nicholas Cage,’ I say, almost as if the response is on reflex.
‘I get that all the time, don’t I, Miranda? ’ he turns to the receptionist next to him.
My eyes dart to the receptionist’s name badge, which reads JESS.
‘Ha! Got you both!’ Nicholas winks. ‘Enjoy your room and let us know if you need anything. I’ll be at the media event tonight, so we’ll chat more then.’
As he moves away to greet more guests, Jess tells us we’re in one of the deluxe suites, positioned on the tenth floor, one of the highest rooms, right below the penthouse suite.
Dan and I laugh the whole way up in the elevator, at the utter weirdness from check-in.
Our room number, 1008, glows electric blue from the navy door, and before Dan swipes the room key over a reader next to the door, I ask, ‘Should I get a walk-through video of you?’
He chuckles. ‘Oh yeah. Definitely should.’
‘Forgot you were here on business, did you?’ I josh.
I film Dan buzzing open the door to our large, spacious, blue-hued room. Other than Dan, the bathroom is the first muse I film, which has a blue tin bathtub in it .
‘I will be having many baths in you,’ I tell the bathtub.
Still filming, I follow Dan from the bathroom to the living room and onto the balcony, which looks out to a panoramic view over the Noosa River. The jet skis and boats below appear as tiny, colourful specks shooting through the water.
Dan walks back inside to check out the other room, where we’ll be sleeping.
‘Ummm,’ Dan says from the bedroom while I’m glued to the view.
‘What?’
He’s standing there, looking concerned at the bed.
The bed.
Not plural.
One bed.
A king bed.
Not the twin bed configuration requested on our itinerary.
Just the one singular bed.