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Lionel dropped back into his chair and let out a soft sigh. “Ah yes, Los Angeles. Home of the…”
Oh crap, which NFL team is based in LA? Ah, yes!
“You know I haven’t a clue about football. But I am going to go with the Rams and the Chargers. Two teams, one city,” she replied, letting a sly smile settle on her lips.
Her gray haired boss chuckled. “I might have to start quizzing you on basketball instead. Or maybe baseball.”
“Oh please, don’t,” said Vivian, retrieving her laptop from its sleeve in her backpack. Placing it on the nearest empty desk, she flipped it open. Within seconds she was logged into the website which all luxury and travel industry people followed.Leisure Line.
If you wanted to know all the latest goings on and gossip in the hotel and luxury leisure world, this was the place to come. The rumors onLeisure Linealmost always turned out to have a good deal of substance to them.
She scanned the newsfeed. The usual stories popped up. There was a sex scandal involving the head of catering and the night manager at a hotel in Orlando. They had been caught red handed while attempting a reverse cowgirl on a kitchen bench.
Ew, and in the main food prep area. Seriously people. Hygiene issues. Haven’t you heard about getting a room? You had a whole hotel to choose from.
There was a piece about a rumored takeover of a struggling resort chain in Canada. She made a note of that for future reference.
“If you are looking for good dirt, there isn’t any this morning. It’s been ages since there was a sordid scandal in the resort world. Though…”
Vivian glanced up from her laptop as Lionel rose once more from his desk and ambled over to where she sat. There could be no missing the glint of mischief in his green eyes.
“What?”
“I’ve heard on the super-secret grapevine that the soft launch of the Royal Resorts Laguna Beach isn’t going as well as could be hoped. Rumblings of staff issues amongst other things. You might want to keep your ear to the ground and see if that’s true.”
Vivian closed up the lid of her laptop. “I shall maintain an impartial view of the resort until I have experienced its service and offerings.” The unofficial magazine mantra slipped easily from her lips.
Lionel nodded his approval. Luxury Hotels and Resorts Worldwide depended on advertising dollars to survive. If hoteliers thought they were being unfairly judged, they might take their sizeable full page glossy ad budgets elsewhere.
And we would all be out of a job.
“Now, I know you have a long day of travel ahead of you, but I need you to focus on this review. Jerry is running late with the piece on the new Japanese ski resort, and I might need to slot your review into the coming issue.”
Lionel’s late night email asking Vivian to come into the office early this morning finally made sense. Her boss was in a bind, and he was counting on her to help him out.
As per usual, her fellow correspondent was going to miss a deadline. Knowing Jerry, he was probably tearing around the streets of Tokyo in a street kart and was yet to make it to Nagano City and the nearby snow fields. Everyone knew the notoriously unreliable Jerry wouldn’t have a job at the magazine if his dad wasn’t a major investor.
“It will cost you a bonus pedicure. At the resort spa. A full hour, and some of those hideously marked up skin care products.”
On her measly salary, the odd complimentary beauty treatment was the only time Vivian managed to indulge in a spot of personal pampering. If Lionel needed her article done and dusted before the Friday night deadline, it would mean her having to put in a late night or two at the resort. It was only fair that she press him for her own little favor.
“How much?”
“How much do you want to have a lead story for the magazine?”
Her boss growled. “Alright, but nothing over one hundred bucks.”
“Two hundred and done.”
“Ok, but make sure you get receipts,” grumbled Lionel.
Grinning in victory, Vivian slipped her laptop back into her backpack. She then did her usual preflight check. Power charge bank for cell. Check. Cell and back up cell. Check. Credit card and cash. Check.
The sight of her corporate card had her sighing. Her own personal credit card was a disaster. Her lovely ex had stolen it a few months ago, then proceeded to rack up some serious spend, including a thousand dollar annual subscription to a dating app for millionaires. Peter’s finalsee you later, had Vivian’s finances sitting in a five-thousand-dollar hole. Twenty phone calls to her bank and counting, but nothing had been resolved.
Receipts. Review. And if I have time, rumors.
“Safe travels, Vivian. And the sooner you can send me the review article, the better.”
