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“I don’t want to ‘wait’,” she said, total disdain dripping from the word, like it was the grossest thing she could imagine. “I want the job I know I can do.”
We stopped at Stump’s office, which was a relief—as much as I wasn’t looking forward to whatever Stump wanted to bend my ear about, getting harangued by this little upstart was an even more annoying prospect.
“That’s the best you’re going to get. Until someone quits or gets fired or…”
I almost said “moves on,” like I was planning on doing, but I made sure to catch myself.
“Quits or gets fired? Anyone looking like, um, they’re going to?”
Great. I hadn’t intended it as a strategy, but leave it to someone like Jules to take it that way.
“That’s me saying ‘be patient’ but with different words,” I said. “Now, if I were you, I’d be focused on the front desk gig instead of daydreaming about some very uncertain position.”
And that was officially all I could handle. I gave the office door a quick rap, and Stump called out “come in” from inside in his usual gruff voice.
“But!” said Jules.
I said nothing, instead pointing to the front desk zone before slipping into the office and shutting the door.
Relief. At least for a second, until I turned to see Stump behind his desk, his face in a very not-pleased expression.
“Sit.”
“Good morning to you too, boss,” I said, flashing a smile to at least pretend I was only having fun.
I sat down, tension building in my gut as soon as I did. It was going to be about the Sean thing, I knew it, and I sure as shit didn’t want to discuss the matter.
“You screwed up yesterday with a VIP,” he said. “Big time.”
“I know,” I said. “I just—”
He raised his palm, cutting me off mid-sentence. And good thing he did, because I had no idea what I would’ve said in my defense.
“You know, I don’t even care what your excuse is. Two sides of the story and all that? All I know is we lost a big client who might’ve become a regular. So now,” he said. “We’re going to take care of this. More specifically, you’re going to take care of this.”
“Sure,” I said. I didn’t want to make excuses any more than he wanted to hear them, but I was eager to clean up the mess. “Tell me what to do.”
He folded his big, sausage-finger-hands together and leaned forward, a majorly serious expression on his face.
“I finally managed to get a hold of Mr. Maddox. Well, his manager, at least. Lucky for you, Mr. Maddox isn’t too upset about what happened during his treatment. But that doesn’t mean we’re not going to bend the fuck over backwards to make sure he’s not going around town speaking poorly of the service we offer.”
“Sure.”
“He’s getting an Augustus Package on the house, naturally. But there’s more.”
“More?”
He nodded, his double chin pressing into the top of his chest and squishing out.
I said nothing, curious as to where he was going with this.
“So, as much as I’m loathe the idea of you getting near him again, I’m going to be…magnanimous and give you another shot. His client profile means we have his address on hand, and I want you to deliver his new package, and the little gift basket we’re throwing in as an apology, to him personally.”
My eyes went wide. “Are you serious?” I asked, leaning forward in my seat. “Personally?”
“You’re going to drive to his place in the Hills after your shift tonight. And you’re going to be all smiles, all apologies, and all primo customer service. You’re going to make him positively thrilled to come back here and, most importantly, thrilled to tell all his wealthy friends about us.”
It was almost too much.
“I’m going to have Jules put together the gift basket. And you’re going to go straight there when your shift’s done, and then call me to let me know how it went. Got it?”
What else could I say? Sorry, but I kind of have a sexual history with this guy?
“OK. I’ll do it.”
“That’s right you will.”
Relief started to settle over me as I figured the worst of the conversation was over. But the expression on Stump’s face turned hard, and I realized that it wasn’t.
“And one more thing.” He opened up a drawer and pulling something out. “You left something in your storage locker.”
It was a manila folder, one with the words “business plan” on the upper-right corner with a label-maker sticky.
My spa plan.
“What!” My hand shot out, immediately reaching over for it. “What were you doing going through my locker!”
A smile spread across his face. “You know you’re not supposed to leave anything overnight in those. And besides, it’s my facility—I can search whatever locker I want, whenever I want.”
Stump ignored my reaching, instead setting the folder on the desk and opening it up. “Pretty comprehensive, I’d say. Not sure about the décor, but you never know.”
