I improvise. She engineers.
And here’s the truth about a woman who thinks five moves ahead. She’s won before you even see her coming. Most people call that intimidating. I call it impressive as hell.
And right now, all that intensity is aimed squarely at me.RIP easy win.
The problem is, she labels me a loose cannon. A lucky mess poised to implode. As if I tripped into success. As if I just wing it and hope something sticks.
Wrong.I earn every damn win I get.And I will not be underestimated again. Not by her. Not by anyone.
That Director position is mine. This promotion isn’t merely a title or a salary bump. For me, it’s proving that instinct and bold execution aren’t reckless. They’re strategy.
She catches me staring. Her chin lifts. “Stop it.”
“Stop what?”
“That smug little look. Like you’ve already won.”
“Who says I haven’t?”
“I do. And my bullshit detector is never wrong.”
“Then why are you blushing?”
“Nice try.” She says, turning away.
I lean against one of the lobby’s wooden pillars, crossing my arms. “You’re running scenarios, aren’t you. Figuring out every way I could beat you.”
“I’m workshopping ways to make you look incompetent in front of the most expensive hotel staff I’ve ever seen.” She pulls out her phone and scrolls. “Dammit. Blazeis late.”
“I’m aware.”
Her head snaps toward me like a trap. “Oh, of courseyouknow. Because when do you ever lead with the truth?”
“Relax, Stopwatch.” I pull out my phone and open Instagram. “He’s here. He’s just nothere.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
“A good producer always knows where their talent is.”
That hits. I watch her jaw tighten.
I flip my screen toward her. Blaze’s latest post: him suspended mid-air above a perfect wave, board slicing through sapphire water. Posted forty-three minutes ago with the caption: “My dudes. My shredders. This weekend, my Blaze Nation fam, I’m dropping the biggest ocean bomb sinceJaws. LOCK. IT. IN.”(wave emoji, explosion emoji).
She stares at it, then stares some more. “He’s at the beach?! Are you kidding me?”
“Yep. And nope.”
“But he’s scheduled to behere. Like, in the lobby here.”
“He’s setting the stage. You don’t rush the main event. You let the anticipation do the heavy lifting.”
“This is not a surf vlog, Hartwell. This is a fundraiser.”
“And he’s the reason it will go viral.”
Blaze Tateis what happens when you mix a golden retriever, a Red Bull IV drip, and a YouTube algorithm on steroids. One hundred million followers who would literally follow him off a cliff, captivated by his raw antics and his too-fast-to-focus attention span. He’s not another run-of-the-mill celebrity draw; he’s a one-man circus, and this hotel is about to become the center ring.
Saltwater Saviors insisted on Blaze for one reason: the second he strips down to his loud board shorts and hits the water with those sea lions, the internet will break.Likesexplode, donations flood in, and all anyone can talk about is saving marine life. The man doesn’t start trends. He owns them.
