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On the second note, I wrote, in the best elegant, cursive handwriting I could, a casual note of introduction from myself to Erin Caster. Hopefully, something would come through for me.
Into one of the envelopes, I put the headshots and the note. On the other, I put the resignation letter. I wrote my return address on the back of each.
“Lena,” said Alex, and I lifted my head. I checked the clock. I didn’t want him to see me working on this stuff on company time. “I need you to go to mailing and get me the briefing documents for the Kauai meeting tomorrow. Can you do that?”
“Sure,” I said. “Why didn’t they get sent up this morning? Jim Callahan left me a note to say they were coming.”
“Someone mailed them to the hotel instead of to my office and I want to look over them. Go fetch them for me, will you?”
It was a petty request—he could just as easily have called the mailroom and got the briefing documents sent up here. I wanted to protest, but I decided not to give him the satisfaction. Instead, I got up and made a big show of leaving.
“I’ve got some stuff to mail myself,” I said. “So, I was going down there anyway.”
He shot me a dirty look and disappeared inside his office.
As I passed by the reception, Kaia, one of the girls who worked in reception, looked up at me. “He’s being a complete jackass to you today,” she said. “Are you okay?”
“Oh, I’m fine,” I said. I didn’t want anyone to think things were off between me and Alex. As far as I could tell, none of our colleagues had inferred there was even the slightest bit of drama between us. And with his dark temper and bad attitude, I’m not sure they were all that surprised.
I took the elevator down to the floor below, which was mostly reserved for office space for employees who worked directly with the hotel. Since Alex’s office was small, containing just his marketing, and advertisements team and his own private office, we used their mailroom as well.
I went into the boiling, stuffy room and saw Kemp. Kemp (who was also from California) was sitting in his chair, adjusting his tie.
“Hey, Kemp,” I said.
“Oh. Hey, brah,” he said. Kemp was a surfer who’d moved to Hawaii exclusively to pursue his passion. He worked part-time in the mailroom and in the Winter did boat tours for tourists. But his real passion was surfing, which, during the season, he did every evening after work. He even had one of those kitschy shark tooth necklaces they sell to tourists.
“I’m here to pick up the briefing documents, the ones that were sent to the hotel by mistake?”
“Right, got ‘em here,” said Kemp, and pulled up the envelope. Just like the one containing my headshots and the one with my resignation note, it was a big, manilla envelope.
“Thanks,” I said, juggling the other one. “Oh, by the way,” I said, juggling the envelopes. “Could you send this one to F.A.O. Erin Caster,Swim & Bathing Agency? They’re at 113 Paani Street.
“One … thirteen … Paani,” said Kemp, scribbling down the address, barely even legible. “Gotcha, Lena.”
“Thank you!” I said.
I went back up to Alex’s office. He wasn’t there, so I put the briefing documents down on his desk, hastily scribbling on them. And in his in-tray, I shoved the envelope with the resignation letter under a stack of documents about the Kauai hotel the company was about to start refurbishing. I didn’t want to draw his attention to it in case it created more drama. And besides, he had bigger things to worry about.
Finding a new PA, for one.
Ithadbeensolong since I’d been out at night in Honolulu that I’d forgotten how much I enjoyed it there. Along the gorgeous beachfront bars and restaurants which lined the town, I saw colorfully dressed people smiling and dancing together. There was an array of eye-catching things to draw your attention, including the enormous and colorful cocktail I saw Krista drinking at the place we’d arranged to meet.
“Hey girl!” she said. “Long time no see. What’s up with you?”
“Oh, not a lot,” I smiled. “I hope Erin likes the pics I sent because guess who’s out of a job come Friday.”
“What happened?” said Krista. “And, by the way, do you want some of this? It’s like, eighty-percent sugar.”
The cocktail was called a Beach Paradise. Inside the double-globe tumbler, the liquid was a bright pink color, and the straw protruded up through a pile of fruit.
“I don’t feel like drinking tonight,” I said. “But hey, the pineapple looks good.” I took a slice of the fruit from the rim of the glass and ate it, savoring the delicious tartness of the fruit.
“Good for you,” said Krista. “How’s the grumpy boss?”
“Still being a jerk,” I said, folding my arms.
“You said he runs a hotel? Kinda big for his boots?”
