“One question. What if you have a senior citizen travelling alone that walks in at the same time as a family with say, three toddlers? Who do I go to first?”
“The senior. Always the senior first. They’ll have less baggage, higher expectations, and you can deal with them much more quickly.”
“Got it. So then once they’re done checking in, I load up their things in a golf cart and take them over to their building?”
“The only time you get to drive a golf cart is when you have to deliver an item urgently. As bellboy, you simply take the luggage cart down this ramp over here to the side and load their things onto a cart where one of the porters will be waiting. Then you hurry back here to help with whatever else is needed.”
Nuts. That sounds considerably less fun than driving around the resort. “Okay, gotcha.”
“This is an all-inclusive resort, so whatever you do, don’t hold your hand out for tips because you’re not getting any.” Brianna continues rattling off instructions at a furious pace while she simultaneously sorts through some forms on the desk. Good God, she’s intimidating—gorgeous, whip-smart, and in command. “On the far side, you’ll see the table with trays of juices and glasses of water. The catering department takes care of that, but should you notice that we’re missing any one of those three types of juices or water, it’s your job to call catering for refills. Pick up the phone, press nine, then press 551 to reach the catering manager. The yellow juice is actually orange juice, the orange is passionfruit-mango blend, and the pinkish red is a sickeningly sweet fruit punch that is very popular with children and hungover adults. Got that?”
“I think so. But if I get confused, I’ll just ask.”
“Sure. Just don’t ask me.”
“Because you don’t repeat yourself.”
“Exactly. We have a bus arriving in exactly three minutes containing sixty-two guests that will be spending the next week here at Paradise Bay. We’re a family-friendly resort, and we also get a lot ofClash of Crownsfans as well, because Pierce Davenport stayed here while he was finishing the last in the series, so it can be an odd mix of people. We also have a private island that is part of the resort called Eden. You likely won’t ever see one of those guests, because they get picked up at the airport and bypass the lobby altogether. If for some reason they end up here, they become our priority-one guests. Give them anything they need or want immediately, no matter how ridiculous the request. Now, before the bus arrives, do you have any questions?”
Oh, about a thousand, such as what was that catering number again, and if the orange juice isn’t orange, then what is the orange juice again? And how serious are things between you and your husband? Dammit, I probably should have paid more attention. “Just one. When I was signing my employment form. It said that the rate of pay was 11.75. It is that a per-minute rate?”
Brianna narrows her eyes. “Oh, I get it. You think you’re a comedian, don’t you? Look, Leo—” The way she saysLeois as though it’s a dirty word, “—it’s obvious you come from money. I’m not sure why you applied for this job—maybe you lost a bet, or you thought it would be a lark to be a bellboy—but this is how I feed my family. So if you’re going to screw things up for me, I’ll go straight into Rosy’s office right now and tell her this won’t work out.”
So it’s per-hour then. Shit. I have never felt so stupid in my entire life. “I can honestly say that nothing in my life up to this point has been as important as me keeping this job. And that is the God’s honest truth.”
“Sure.” She says, oozing sarcasm.
The sound of a diesel bus grows louder. I’m about to be initiated into the working class, and something tells me this isn’t going to be all shits and giggles…
CHAPTER 8
Beggars Can’t Be Choosers; If You Don’t Have Anything Nice to Say, Don’t Say Anything at All; and Other Annoying but True Sayings…
Brianna—The Next Day
I’m a woman on a mission. And trust me, when this particular woman is on a mission, you better clear the hell out of her way or expect to get mowed down by her size-sevens.Especiallyif you’re a certain ludicrously handsome guy who’s all sculpted from spending too much time in the gym instead of learning practical skills like following orders.
I mean, can the guy lift heavy things? You bet your sweet buns he can. But does he know what to do with them once they’re in his muscly arms? No. No, he does not.
Because of that, there is absolutely no way in hell I’m going to work another shift with one Mr. Leopold Doesn’t Know His Arse from a Hole in the Ground. Last night was acompletedisaster. Not only did henothelp in anyway, heactually causedseveral major catastrophes singlehandedly, including, but not limited to, calling Room A-551 repeatedly to order juice for the lobby. The guests were nice about it the first four times, but by the fifth, they took a golf cart all the way over here to yell at his supervisor. Lucky me.
He also started a huge row between a couple of newlyweds by hitting on the bride, who enjoyed his attention a little too much for her groom’s liking. The bride, who apparently, doesn’t like being told who she “can and cannot flirt with just because she’s married now” pulled the tablecloth out from under all the passionfruit-mango juice, breaking two dozen glasses and making a massive, not to mention dangerous, mess on the tile floor. So that was awesome.
And guess what? By the time security escorted the unhappy couple out of the lobby, I got back to the concierge desk in time to see Leo, who promised he could handle the juice order from now on, hanging up the phone with wide eyes. “I did it again, and they arereallypissed this time.”
And those are just the lowlights. Truth be told, I’m not even sure if he knows how to use acoat hanger, let alone a luggage cart. He certainly doesn’t seem to understand the concept of hurrying, instead seeming to believe his job is to chitchat with all the guests upon arrival.
So today, I’ve arrived fifteen minutes early for my shift. I’m going to march straight into Rosy’s office anddemandthat they fire him. I know someone useless when I see them, and he isby farthe most useless one of the bunch. I stalk into the lobby, barely noticing Mario, who says something along the lines of, “Uh oh, Brianna’s mad.”
One of the other security guards chuckles and says, “I hope she’s not mad at me. I don’t think I could handle her wrath.”
That’s right, boys. Stay the hell out of my way, because Brianna Lewis is kicking arse and taking names today.
Ignoring them, I spot Rosy behind the front desk on the phone. Perfect. I don’t have to storm as far. Kevin, our IT guy, is standing beside her, scratching his mess of red hair as they both stare at the computer screen. Onika and Donalda, the receptionists on duty, stand at another computer terminal, looking equally confused. Not caring what the problem is, I walk up to Rosy. “I need to talk to you right away. “
She holds up one hand without looking at me. “Not right now. This bloody new computer system isn’t lighting up properly.”
Kevin barks out a laugh. “Loading up. Not lighting up.”
