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Had someone just poured molten lead into my stomach? Because that’s how I felt.
Stay calm.
“Geez, guys, I’m really disappointed to hear that.”
“Good idea, but impossible to execute on. There are more hotel rooms than ever in Frisco. We can’t risk a property with a low or even average occupancy rate.”
Narrow-minded assholes. Wouldn’t know an opportunity if it bit them in the ass. And no one says Frisco.
I kept my voice friendly. It wasn’t easy. “Hey, if it’s okay with you two, I’d like to discuss this more. I feel like it’s a great opportunity, and I know how we all hate to leave money on the table.”
I wasn’t ready to let it go, not by a long shot.
“Ya know, Brodie, your best opportunity is to keep your head down in New York City with Hotel Vertigo. Your numbers are getting better every month.”
Okay then. Condescending prick. That’s why I called them the Dickhead Twins.
“Yeah guys, they’re getting better because I know how to run a successful fucking hotel,” I barked.
“Hey now, let’s not get bitchy. We just told ya you’re doing great. Keep it up.”
“Well, I gotta run,” one of them said.
“Yeah, me too. Bye!” the other said.
Thank god they were in another state. Kept me from strangling the assholes.
* * *
My shitty mood must have been clear to anyone who saw me that day. The hotel staff gave me wide berth as I stormed around the back office halls. The accountant even pushed her door shut as I walked by.
It wasn’t the first time.
But when I emerged into the lobby—the breathtakingly beautiful lobby of the hotel my father opened when I was just a kid—I was all calm and composure.
I surveyed the room. All was under control. Just how I liked it. The bellmen were smiling and helping guests with their luggage, the concierge was scoring some last minute theater tickets for some delighted guests, and reception was checking people in at record speed. Even the gardener was trimming and watering so discretely that no one noticed him.
This is how you run a fucking hotel.
The head of housekeeping spotted me and approached with quick steps. Like my admin, Trudy, she’d been with the hotel for years, going back to my father’s days.
“Mr. Harcourt, would you like to inspect a couple rooms now?” she asked.
Inspecting rooms was part of my daily ritual. I always checked out a couple random rooms to make sure the housekeeping staff were on top of it. Nothing puts a hotel out of business faster than dirty rooms. Once news like that hit the social media sites, word would spread like wildfire.
You know those hidden camera news stories where hotel maids wiped out used bathroom glasses with a dirty towel and set them back out for the next guest?
Over. My. Dead. Body.
“Yes, Jones. I’m ready for inspection. Let’s start with the penthouse suite.”
Her face dropped all semblance of color. For a moment, I thought she might faint.
“Um, well, um, Mr. Harcourt, the penthouse isn’t ready just yet.”
Of course it wasn’t ready. Joel, the general manager, had just fucked Pam, the HR manager, there. Jones would have heard it from the freaked-out maid.
“Well, we both know that only the bed needs changing since no one—theoretically—spent the night there. What’s the hold up?”
“Mary doesn’t want to go back in there. So I need one of the other girls to clean it.”
She hesitated.
“Or you know, I could clean it,” she said quickly.
Good girl.
“You know I always say that everyone in management—myself included—is expected to be ready to jump in, no matter what the task. That’s what keeps this hotel great,” I said.
While I was tormenting poor Jones, I was able to keep an eye on everything else going on in the lobby. Not least of which was a hot-as-shit girl behind the reception desk. Sonya something or other. And damn if she wasn’t giving me the eye.
Last time she’d done that, I’d gotten the blowie of a lifetime. Right next to the copy machine in the office behind the front desk.
I didn’t care who knew.
I’d tuned out whatever Jones was blathering on about. I gave her a nice pat on the back. “Thank you, Jones. I’ll be checking out those rooms later.”
I headed for the front desk.
“But sir,” Jones called after me, “there’s one more thing—”
There was always one more thing with her. Such a time-suck.
With my gaze glued to Sonya and her great tits, I waved over my shoulder. “Jones, we’ll finish this later.”
I waited until Sonya finished with the guest she was helping.
“Hi, Sonya, how are you this morning?”
The other person behind reception, a sprightly gay guy named Scott, minded his own business and scurried away. Bless his heart.
Her face lit up. She was even more gorgeous when she smiled. “Mr. Harcourt, hi.” She blushed.
And my dick twitched. Something about a bashful babe who could suck cock just killed me.
I said nothing further. I didn’t need to. I walked to the end of the long reception desk and used my key card for the door to the back office. Just like last time, she met me there by the copy machine. We closed the door.
My morning was about to improve.
