Gil strolled into the mailroom to collect his own mail, which didn't take long. Most of it went to the Flamingo these days since that was where he spent most of his time. He opened his box, scowled at and dumped the junk then ran his other errand by saying, "Scuse me," and leaning past the young man standing at the noticeboard and pinning up a small discreet card.
"Wanted," it said, "general assistant for restaurant, some bar, waiting and kitchen work. Experience not necessary but an advantage. Please apply to Gil Wimbourne," and there was a phone number.
Gil nodded to himself, then left the mailroom, heading for the Mocha. Business was picking up - Katie and he were hard pressed to keep up.