The Art Hotel: Where Performance comes to Stay

By Christine Brown

J Constantine loses his leg in a freak ballet accident and with the compensation he builds a hotel and staffs it with his out-of-work performer mates. They have no idea what they're doing but it's a job so they're doing it anyway. 

Ballerinas as cleaners, opera singers masquerading as waiters, an eighty-piece orchestra ten

• Language: English
• Publisher: Mouthful Publishing
• Release date: Jan 8, 2024
• ISBN: 9780975616802

Christine Brown

The Brown family members—husband Kody, wives Meri, Janelle, Christine, and Robyn, and their seventeen children—are open polygamists and the stars of the popular TLC reality program Sister Wives. 

Book preview

1.png

This book is for Christopher

who thought the gummy shark

storylinewas utterly ridiculous.

Of course, he was right.

Thank you cousin xxx

Published 2023

Copyright © Christine Brown 2023

All characters portrayed in this publication are fictitious; any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental except where real places, names or people portrayed for historical fact or dramatisation purposes for which we thank those concerned.

All rights reserved.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, store in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means mechanical or photocopy without the

written permission of the copyright holder.

Cover Design: Christine Brown

© 2023

THE ART HOTEL

PART I

He stood staring at it. The realisation hit him - he had a hotel. Shit.

He walked through the doors with purpose, striding as best he could towards reception, imagining how it would look full of people and energy. Excitement and fear a heady mix coursing through him. He stopped. He looked to his right

What are you doing?

I’ve always wanted to hang from the chandeliers, so thought I’d have a go before the guests arrive.

Antonio, when someone says they’re hanging from the chandeliers, it doesn’t actually mean they’re literally hanging from them. He shook his head.

Oh, never mind.

Shit, this is what happens when you take on a clown as a PA. It seemed such a good idea at the time. Find someone completely different to compliment his personality, someone to bring another perspective to his life. Someone to bring some happiness to the day. Someone who knew what they were doing. That bit he’d somehow missed. Shit.

J was a dancer. Not a business owner. No, that’s not right - he was a dancer and now he wasn’t. Years of study and training, dreaming and striving was over in an instant.

His first role as principal in the company was Don Quixote. Opening night and Act I was a dream, the audience was with him from the moment he appeared on stage and watched in awed silence at his incredible performance.

Act II began and the arrival of scene three, where the knight - J - mistakes the windmill for a giant and attempts to slay it. He is caught by one of the wings and is flung into the air. He falls unconscious at Sancho’s feet.

In rehearsal it had gone smoothly every time, yet on this, the opening night, it went so terribly wrong. Somehow the sail snapped off the windmill and flew into the air just as J was taking a leap. It sliced his leg off at the knee. Dance career over.

Workers’ compensation - millions of dollars - was awarded to him. Sadly, nothing could compensate him for the losses he had experienced, and as he sat staring at his bank account now overflowing with money he never dreamed of having, he felt that all too familiar bitter taste in his mouth. People would ‘give their right arm’ for all that cash, yet he. J Constantine had given his leg instead and felt nothing but grief. The money was nothing to him if he couldn’t do what he was meant to do, and that was to dance. Still, he was now rich and could create anything with it. What to do? The thought of starting a dance company or opening a school filled him with horror, so he decided to sit with it until the answer came to him. Answers often come from very unexpected directions and this is as it was for J.

He was down, rich but down. Thoughts flittered through his mind continuously until one landed squarely in front of him, demanding his attention. Since losing his career, he’d had time to look around and observe what was happening in the performing arts industry in all its forms. Great artists were scrambling to make ends meet, waiting for their next gig, and the closure of so many theatres and venues had forced everyone to find something, anything, to keep food on the table. There was no work and no joy. He was now sitting on a pile of cash, so what could he do to make it work for him and help others to get back, both a reason for getting out of bed and bring some joy to them. Then it came to him - a hotel. Who didn’t love a great hotel? I’ll just build a grandiose piece of fabulousness and then everyone can work with me. This is perfect.

Now sitting in his piece of fabulousness, complete with every little thing he had ever wanted to see in a hotel, J realised he now had a huge task on his hands to turn this edifice into a living breathing thing. List. He needed a list. Lists made sense of things. Dot points on a page. Worked every time. He sat at a desk in the office. He hadn’t yet decided which one was his, so landed on the closest one.

▪ Coffee

▪ Staff

▪ Coffee

▪ Advertising

▪ Coffee

That’s it. He needed staff, particularly someone who could work the coffee machine in the restaurant. Where to start? He’d never owned a business, never run anything more than a washing machine in his life, never considered being the boss of anyone or anything. But he was here now and if he wanted to get this hotel open, he needed help. He needed staff, but what kind of staff? How do you run a hotel if you’ve only ever stayed in one? You think about all the people you find when you’re in a hotel and go from there. Of course!

Antonio! Grab some paper and a pen and follow me, we’ve got some organising to do.

The two men stood outside the front of the hotel, J with his eyes closed and Antonio, pen poised.

Ok, I’m going to shout out jobs and you’re going to write them down, then from there we’ll start interviewing people and get this hotel happening. Valet! Write it down Antonio - we need a valet or two to park cars. They walked through the doors and the jobs came thick and fast.

Porter, Concierge, Reception…and other front of house people, say Reception times 5.

They walked into the restaurant; Maitre’d, waiters, bar staff, chefs, kitchen hands, dishwashers.

After a couple of hours walking the hotel and grounds, a list, a very exhaustive one, had been made. Back in the office the two men stared at each other, both realising just how big this venture was and wondering whether either of them had the nous to pull it off. It somehow seemed a ridiculous endeavour, but here they were and they had to do something.

Shit. Ok, let’s take a breath and think about this. It’s time to eat an elephant, and before you think I’ve lost my mind, let me tell you how we’re going to do it

An elephant is way too big to fit in your mouth in one go, obviously, so you have to eat it in parts - a little nibble on the trunk, a bite of the right ear, a munch on the tail - that sort of thing. This hotel is one big, wild, rampaging elephant at the moment, so we’re going to nibble, bite and munch until we’ve got it under control. Ok?

Oh, when you say it like that it all makes sense.

Antonio had no idea what J was talking about but J was the boss, so he was just going to go with it,

So boss, what part are we going to start with today? I say we start on the trunk, yeah, let’s start there.

With list in hand, J began matching the people he knew to the positions on the page. How hard could this be? He knew so many out-of-work performers; finding people to fill the jobs was going to be a breeze. Not wanting to listen to the little whisper from his imaginary critic who was trying to tell him something important and obviously negative, he began humming the overture to ‘The Nutcracker’. This drove Antonio crazy, but he knew better than to interrupt J while he was doing his thing. He patiently waited until the humming ceased and the ideas came forward.

Alright then, the key roles needed to go to principals - the leads, the stars, the divas - and then he could work down from there. Head Chef absolutely had to go to Teresa, while the Maitre’d gig was Olivier all the way. Head of Housekeeping had to be someone hard-core and bossy, and Doris was a perfect choice. As he filled in the list he felt lighter and excited and almost giddy with the realisation of his new life coming together.

He sat back with an air of satisfaction, a smile playing on his lips. This is it; this is the list of my people, and as he went down it he quickly realised he had to employ some with hospitality experience. Even he knew playing a role was nothing compared to doing an actual job, so he needed those who could somehow guide his creatives to be professional in their positions. Right, so that would be a real Chef, a Front-of-House Manager and Security. The rest was a piece of cake. Time to do some interviews.

Antonio! Ring an agency and get some candidates for a Sous Chef, a Front- of-House Manager and a Security Manager. Then let’s do a ring around and organise a meeting in the atrium with everyone; it’s time to hand out some jobs!

It was 8.30 on a Monday night, and the atrium of the newest hotel in town was filled with artists, performers, production crew and front-of-house folk. Everyone was milling around, chatting to each other in anticipation as to what was going on. Many had worked together over the years, so the excitement in the room was electric. Some may not have known J personally, but they all knew his story. Now, standing in this building surrounded by industry mob, they all thought it meant the theatres were re-opening and they all had jobs. What that had to do with J and the hotel none of them knew, but just the thought of working again was unbelievably exciting.

J stood on the small bridge over the atrium stream. He looked out over the sea of faces and waited for them to quieten down. He stood completely still and waited. Eventually the conversations stopped and he had their attention. J began his pitch.

Evening everyone, it’s so good to see you all again. It’s been an age since we were working together and most of us are still out of work. That’s why I’ve asked you here tonight. Since my accident I’ve had to re-think my career, and it’s been soul destroying, in all honesty. I’ve had a long time to consider what to do, and during that time I have watched as many of you, without an accident to blame, lost your work and opportunities to perform, and, I’m sure, wondering what the hell to do next to keep food on the table. Now you’re standing in a flash new hotel that’s about to open. Why? What’s that got to do with you, you may be wondering. Well, because I’m offering you all work. Not as performers, but in hospitality.

There was a collective groan and a swell of muttering followed by loud expletives and a collective sigh of disappointment.

Look, I know it’s not ideal, it’s not what we know and have trained for most of our lives, but this means we all get some money in our pockets and we all get to be together again. Just like you, I wish we were in a theatre getting ready for a show, but that’s not happening right now, so we have to look at alternatives to keep us sane and financially looked after. This is the only way I know of helping us all. I’m going to let that sink in for a moment. If this sounds like a ridiculous idea to you, I understand. I just want to help as many as I can to get through this terrible time and this is the way I can do it. If you’re up for it, stay and we’ll get down to how it all looks. J looked around at a sea of confused faces. I’ll be back in a few minutes. Anyone who is still here when I get back has a job. See you soon.

He walked into the bar, threw back a scotch and allowed his adrenaline to settle down, with no idea just what to expect on his return. He replayed his speech to himself, wondering if it made sense. Should he have asked for questions? Should he have made it seem more exciting? Should he have given more notice? What if he walked back into the room to find it empty, then what was he going to do? In his mind, he was going to save everyone, and it was going to be wonderful. In reality, he may have just been fooling himself and none of his former colleagues and friends wanted to come on this crazy adventure with him. Taking a deep breath to calm his wildly beating heart, J made the long walk back into the atrium.

It was full. Completely full. As J stepped into the room, he was surrounded by people hugging him and laughing and shouting over each other in exuberant enthusiasm. These were his people and they’d come to ‘play’.

Ok, so that’s a big yes! You can’t believe how happy you’ve all made me. It’s going to be okay and we’re together, so that’s huge. Now it’s time to get to work. Antonio is going to take over now. For those of you who don’t know, Antonio is my PA, which means he’s my right-hand man. He’s now going to talk you through the process as we see it. To be honest, I’m not sure how this is all going to look, but let’s treat it like another gig and strap on our dancing shoes and get our voices ready. The Art Hotel is happening.

The last of his new staff members left the room.

Antonio, thank you. Thanks for being by my side and stepping up. You have helped me carry the weight of all this and never once said I was mad, even if you thought it. So thank you.

Oh J, I’ve always thought you’ve been mad, right from the start. I mean you employed a clown as your PA for God’s sake, so you have to be pretty insane. I’m just glad you haven’t fired me yet, because as we both know I’m pretty hopeless at this gig.

"Ha! Haaa!, no more hopeless as I am as a big boss ‘hotelier’, so we’re even. Let’s hit the bar and

I’ll buy you a drink, and we can talk about what happens next."

Shit, you mean we have to actually do something with all these people? Let’s hope we find supervisors who know what it takes to run a real hotel, or we could be in a little bit of trouble.

DORIS

The phone rang. It was J.

Hey, Doris, I heard about the theatre closing. Are you alright? I can’t believe another performing space has died and gone to heaven. I mean, man, what the fuck!

Oh, J it’s a shit show. The financiers just came in and closed us down without warning. No word from the General Manager. Nothing. We were left standing on the side of the road watching as they stripped everything out and bolted the doors. Many of us have been there for more than 20 years. I’ve got 15 people who worked under me, who are now jobless and scared shitless about what’s coming next.

Here’s what’s coming next. I am opening a new hotel and need staff. You are now my head of housekeeping, and your people are now working here too. They’ll be part of the Front of House team. The hotel address is 37 Pinter Lane, and let them know their first shifts starts tomorrow, with orientation at 8am. Oh, yeah, and I know 8am is a killer for us kind of folk, but it’s a new world, Hon, and one we’re going to have to get used to. See you then.

The theatre had closed its doors for the last time in January. It left many heartbroken, and none more so than the staff who ran it. With no other theatre work to fall back on, Doris and her colleagues were left scrambling to find anything to