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“Like I said, you’re a damn good concierge. Brilliant with our guests, and I’d trust you to run this place if needed. Your colleagues like you, and you’re well respected. Even Mr Klutz upstairs knows who you are. He has your back, by the way.”
“Okay.” I didn’t know quite where he was going with this.
“You suck in the relationship department, though, and your taste in men is terrible. Really bad.”
“I do suck,” I said, trying to swallow the shock of his candour with a wink and then laughing when Finn blushed.
“You absolutely suck. Big time. I think from now on, any relationship you get yourself into will have to be thoroughly vetted by management.”
“That…is really inappropriate.” I liked when Finn squirmed. He was so far away from his usual following-the-rules persona here and skating on professional thin ice.
“Which is why I get Mabel to do these kinds of chats. Or Mark. They know how to talk feelings. I’m not good at this.”
“I think you’re really good, actually.” I did. “Thanks. For the…pep talk.”
“Get out of my sight,” he said, but he was grinning. “And this chat? Completely off the record.”
“Fine,” I said and stood up.
“Fine.” He pushed his chair back and picked up a pile of papers, tapping them sternly against his desk when I could see he was about to burst into laughter.
I walked out the door but I turned back and leaned on the doorframe, crossed my arms. “What was that favour you wanted to ask me?”
“Oh, yeah, I never got to that.”
“So?”
“Benjamin.”
“What about him?”
“Sort him out, will ya?”
Then he swung around in his chair and kicked the door shut in my face.
I did walk out there, my head held high, picked up my radio and work phone from the rack, and nodded politely at the reception staff as I crossed the lobby, trying to look normal even though my heart was once again beating too fast, and I wasn’t at all sure of this. But where the reception was heaving, my desk was deserted, so I concentrated on getting myself organised, even managing to smile at a passing guest and point someone in the direction of the toilets.
Every task felt monumental. But I knew this. I could do this.
“The coffee machine in my room is faulty.” Businessman. Annoyance steaming out of his ears.
“Thank you so much for letting me know. I’ll have a replacement delivered promptly. I’m so sorry our standards were not met on thisoccasion. May I tempt you with a free voucher for our coffee shop over on your left? They do a remarkable latte.”
I didn’t even have to think before speaking, it all just rolled off my tongue. Even I was impressed with my little performance as the gentleman mumbled his room number and scurried off with his free voucher. I bet there was nothing wrong with his coffee machine. But anyway, here was Reuben the doorman, hanging heavily over my desk and making the wood creak.
“You!” he barked.
“Yes, can I help you?” came out of my mouth in sheer shock.
“Good to have you back. Really good. And if that dickhead shows his face here, we’ll have him on the floor and the police called before he’s even got through the doors. You need to know that.”
“Okay,” I whispered.
“We know what he looks like.”
“Good?” I needed to calm down, get all this under control.
“And I have all these envelopes for you. Commissions and stuff. The usual. I would have given them to Oliver, but I don’t trust him. Ahmed’s kept paying you monthly. I told him you were away, but he didn’t want to fall out of your favour, so there’s extra. “
