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Chapter Twelve
AnhourbeforeTheBenson’s New Year’s Eve party, Sailor joined Alessandra in her office. Wyatt was due to arrive in a half-hour, and he was expecting an update on their revenue. Sailor had spent her afternoon analyzing revenues from the casino drop relative to their expenditure on comped meals and hotel rooms.
Alessandra had gotten over her pique at Sailor’s earlier comments about Beau Brooks. All she wanted now was to know if they’d hit the target. Alessandra noted Sailor’s solemn look as she came into the office but wasn’t alarmed.
It was common for Sailor to feign disappointment before revealing good revenue news. Alessandra had come to look forward to the big reveal. Sailor looked so down, in fact, that Alessandra at once assumed she was over-acting.
“Good news?” she asked, expecting Sailor’s face to break into a smile. Instead, Sailor sighed deeply. Alessandra realized they hadn’t hit the target. “Oh shit…”
Sailor was near tears. “I’m so sorry, boss. I thought we had, I really did. Even with tonight’s revenues, we’re not going to make it.” Having spoken it out loud, she couldn’t hold back and the tears began to fall.
Alessandra moved from her desk to embrace Sailor. She felt numb. It seemed unreal that after all they’d done to make The Benson successful, it was coming to an end for Alessandra.
Still, she needed to reassure Sailor and be strong. “It’s okay, Sailor. It really is. Your job is secure, you know that. You’re the best executive host on the Strip. Your customers love you. And whoever the new CEO is, they will love you, too.”
“Maybe, but I don’t want to work for anyone else. I want to work for you.”
Alessandra smiled ruefully. “I don’t think you want to work for me in West Wendover, which is probably the only place I’ll be able to get a job when this is all over.”
“I’d work for you anywhere.”
“No, you won’t. I won’t let you. The Benson needs you, Sailor.”
“But Alessandra, I want to work for you, not someone else. You’re the best boss I’ve ever had. I’ll go wherever you are, even if it’s West Wendover or Coeur d’ Alene, Idaho.”
In this case, Alessandra had to be the reasonable one. “Wherever I end up, you’re staying here, at The Benson. I won’t let you give up the commissions you’ll make here to follow me out to a small rural casino. That would be stupid. I wouldn’t even let you follow me to one of our casinos in the suburbs. The Benson is your home, Sailor. And you need to stay.”
“I’ll try, but I don’t know. Who do you think Wyatt is going to sell to?”
“I’m not totally sure. He mentioned a group out of Europe, CasinoMatch. I haven’t researched them much. They’re currently an online gambling platform, but they want to get into brick-and-mortar casinos. They think their customers will follow them from online to in-person.”
“Do they operate any other casinos in the U.S.?”
“Nope. This would be their first.”
Sailor frowned. “It will be a shit-show, then. They won’t know what they’re doing. But maybe that means they’ll keep you on.”
“They won’t,” Alessandra said. “I already asked Wyatt about it. They told him they intend to put their current chief operating officer in charge. Apparently, he has some experience running private club casinos in Europe.”
“Great. He’ll think he knows how to handle high-rollers in the U.S. He won’t.”
Alessandra strove to be reassuring. “Then you’ll teach him, Sailor. It’s actually a great opportunity for you.”
Later she’d have time to mourn the loss of her job. In the next few days, she’d have to be strong for her staff. It would soon be public that The Benson would be changing hands.
Today, she had to face Wyatt. Although it seemed he was resigned, and even relieved, to divest himself of The Benson, Alessandra knew there was a part of him that would be sad to let it go. After all, the resort bore the name of his son.
Her phone dinged. With a heavy heart, she told Sailor, “Wyatt’s arrived. He’ll be up in a minute.” Alessandra prepared for the conversation she knew would change her life forever.
Now at the party, Alessandra pasted a smile on her face. She didn’t feel happy, but her customers expected a joyous time, and she wasn’t going to put a damper on that. Her conversation with Wyatt had gone as expected.
He was disappointed they didn’t make their target. Nevertheless, he reiterated that his private equity firm’s main focus wasn’t on gaming. He and his shareholders thought it made sense to sell The Benson.
Alessandra hadn’t disagreed with him openly. After all, what did she know about private equity firms? Still, she suspected Wyatt was more conflicted about the sale than he showed. Sure, it would make him a nice profit to sell The Benson at this point. And perhaps, being named after his son, there was an emotional tie Wyatt wanted to sever, given the circumstances of Benson’s death.
The other side of that coin, however, was Alessandra’s suspicion that The Benson was more of a tribute to Wyatt’s son. Wyatt had looked at her with melancholy when she confirmed they hadn’t made the target. The Benson was a namesake, and a beautiful tribute, to the love Wyatt felt for his deceased son. And in that respect, how could he give it up?
Alessandra walked around the room, greeting the customers she knew and introducing herself to the customers she didn’t. She hoped it wasn’t obvious that her eyes continued to dart to the door as people walked in, looking for Beau.
