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“I can trust you, can’t I, Cole?”
Todd’s been talking, and I accidentally tuned him out. This question has me shift my gaze off the beach, back to his sweaty face.
“Of course.”
“You’re my second-in-command, my wingman, if you will.”
He winks, and I hope my expression skews more toward a smile than a grimace, but it’s hard to tell without standing in front of a mirror. My people skills are admittedly lacking.
“I’ve been considering making some major changes around here. There’s a few departments that I think have ballooned up out of control for no good reason.”
“Oh? Which departments?” I ask, playing along.
He goes on to tell me that entertainment and hospitality was identified on a recent audit as having a “highly slashable” budget. He wants to restructure and trim the fat, banking on the fact that the resort’s overwhelmingly positive guest reviews will remain on travel sites even after the team responsible for earning them has been gutted. Todd is a lot of things, but genius isn’t one of them.
First up on his chopping block is the aging clown traumatizing hotel guests during what’s meant to be a kid-friendly brunch (he’s got a COPD cough and a penchant for making references to children’s shows from the Reagan administration while bewildered kids frown at their uninspired balloon animals). He was a personal favorite of the previous CEO, but he’s been working past his expiration date for some time.
Next is the rotating cadre of B-list musicians, one-hit wonders, and cover bands that serenade the crowds in the cocktail lounge on nights and weekends. Nothing a little Spotify playlist can’t replace, he thinks.
I’m taking notes on my iPad, jotting down the gist of his speech right up until he says, “Paige Young.”
My fingers still, my spine stiffens, and slowly, I look up. Todd has his feet propped up on his desk, his fingers digging through a bag of trail mix like a hungry little squirrel. He only wants the chocolate and the raisins.
“Paige? From excursions?” I ask, playing dumb.
He doesn’t even look up from the bag. “Yes, her and a few others.”
I clear my throat, trying to understand. The clown I get. He should have been shown the door about thirty years ago. But Paige?
I can’t resist asking why.
Todd waves it off like the question isn’t even worth his time. “Oh, I know she’s pretty enough, but we have plenty of pretty women at Siesta Playa, some far more willing to show a little skin, if you catch my meaning.”
I’m thrust into such a vivid daydream of wrapping my hands around his thick neck that I don’t even realize he’s waiting for a response.
“Guests like her,” I say like I have no real skin in the game, like I’m just pointing out facts.
“Guests likeeveryone.” He slides his feet off his desk and sits up, staring me down with conviction. “For now, this is just between you and me, got it? I can’t just go around firing people. We’ll have to be smooth about it. Cunning. Can you be cunning, Cole?Hah.Cunning Cole.” He points at me. “I’m counting on you.”
Right.
Counting me as an ally was Todd’s first mistake.
Threatening Paige?
Absolutely not.
I force myself to sit in my seat until he’s finished dismissing me. Then I stand and show myself out, trying my hardest to act as I normally would. If my departing words are a little strained or if my eyebrows are too furrowed, Todd isn’t astute enough to notice.
I feel like I’m walking through a haze of smoke down the hallway, blinking slow, still in shock as I make it into my office.
Paige can’t leave.
Paige ... belongs here. With me.
She just doesn’t know it yet.
I set down my iPad on my desk and rake my hands through my hair. I want to settle this the easy way: hire a hit man to take Todd out on his way home from work. Simple. Easy. Life in jail would be hard, but I’d manage.
