Hazel nods like she’s been expecting the question. “You need to use your charm and influence to persuade them to a suitable dining location. If they’re on the basketball court and want a burger, that’s fine. It’s a big space, they’re probably with a group of friends who all feel similarly. If they’re in the sauna and order soup, you would say something like, ‘I can certainly get that delivered to Eat Well to be ready for you as soon as you’ve finished your sauna.’”

“If they insist on soup in the sauna?” Akira asks, an expression of concern on her face.

“Speak to your supervisor. They’ll be able to handle it. Bear in mind that while our members will be demanding and expect perfection, they’re sophisticated travelers. It’s unlikely they’ll make a request for soup in the sauna.”

Despite what Hazel says, I’m not convinced members won’t make outlandish requests. Frank was by no means a billionaire, but he liked what he liked. And he didn’t like people saying no to him. I can only imagine a billionaire will be a thousand times worse.

“The key thing,” Hazel continues, “is not to get flustered or appear shocked. You have to act like you’re taking it all in your stride—like you’ve heard this request a thousand times before. Even if you feel like a member’s being unreasonable, you can never show it. They pay an awful lot of money to have every demand catered to by us. And we have to do our best.”

For a second I can’t catch my breath, because what she’s describing reminds me of my relationship with Frank. He was paying, so he had all the power. Just like the members of the Colorado Club. It was my job to cater to his demands. At least as a waitress, I get a paycheck at the end of the week and not a ring. And I get to leave at the end of the day.

We come to the pool and stare through the glass at the inviting water.

“How come it’s full? We don’t have members arriving for a couple of weeks, do we?” Akira asks.

“Not my circus, not my monkey,” Hazel says. “But I’m sure they need to test out everything thoroughly before we launch.”

We file past the doors to the member changing rooms and, through them, enter the gym. It’s huge and full of equipment I’ve never seen before. Not that I’ve ever been a member of a gym. There’s a whirring sound in the background and I wonder if the air-conditioning is faulty, until I notice someone on one of the treadmills in the far corner of the gym. There’s something familiar about the hair, and as I turn back to whatever Hazel is saying, realization dawns.