Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 84676 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 423(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 282(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84676 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 423(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 282(@300wpm)
NINE
Leo
I don’t know why I’m asking any of my friends for moral guidance. Every one of them has been ordained in the church of I Don’t Give A Shit when it comes to religious outlook, though they’re all ethical as fuck. I suppose that’s what I need. An ethics lesson, because any understanding I had in that area shot out of the roof when I saw Jules in those heels. Worse when I saw her later in the day in bare feet. I don’t know why, but she was even sexier padding around the office, her hair down like it was a Sunday afternoon at home, than when she was dressed up like some kind of soap opera vixen.
The steps to Worth’s brownstone seem to have gotten steeper as I climb them. I take a breath before I go to ring the bell, try to fill my lungs, but somehow I can’t. I need to get my arse to the gym. I’m turning into an old man. The door opens even before I ring, and Worth appears.
“Come in.”
“Is it me or are those stairs getting steeper?”
“That’s definitely you.”
I’ve got a funny feeling there’s going to be a lot of that tonight—a lot of “it’s you” revelations. Although that’s not the primary purpose of our midweek meet-up.
Worth and Fisher have called this meeting to talk about strategy for how to beat Bennett in our annual hotel profits competition. I ignored the new group chat at first. Like I give a shit if Bennett wins the competition? The Avenue is a great hotel. I’m too concerned about everything else going on in my life to worry about it… but the thought has crossed my mind that employing Jules as the general manager of The Mayfair might be killing two birds with one stone. But I need a second opinion on that, which is why I’m panting at the top of Worth’s steps.
“We need some kind of internal referral system,” I hear Fisher say.
“Or some coordinated marketing,” Jack says. “We need to work together and figure out what the strengths and weaknesses are, then compensate with each other’s hotels.”
Is it me or is it weird that we’re meeting up in order to defeat one of our best friends at what’s supposed to be a friendly game?
I grab a beer and sit down, listening to them discuss various ideas.
There’s a pause while Fisher types something into his laptop. The others hush while he does it. It reminds me of being back at business school, when we’d be given a case study to analyze and then have to come up with various solutions—no assistants or employees coming to us with proposals or presentations. We’ve got our sleeves rolled up and we’re in the weeds. Except I’m hanging back. I don’t feel as invested as I normally would.
“You okay?” Worth asks.
I nod. “The manager of The Mayfair just resigned.”
“Oh no. That sucks,” Fisher says.
“Jules wants the job,” I say. I know we haven’t come here to talk about me, but it is hotel related.
“Jules who?” Worth asks.
“My assistant.”
Confusion registers on his face.
“She’s got lots of hotel experience,” I say. “She only came to work as my assistant to try and convince me to hire her to manage The Mayfair. And she’s saying she’ll pose as my fiancée if I give her the job.”
“Sounds good,” Jack mumbles, reading over what Fisher has just written.
“You think?” I know he’s not listening, but I genuinely want to hear from him. I’m not looking for permission. I just want to know if there’s an easy consensus. Does everyone fall on the same side of the argument or is there space for debate?
Maybe I am looking for permission. If I don’t find a fiancée for the awards ceremony, I won’t go. If I don’t go, they might rescind the award altogether. I shouldn’t care, but I fucking do. I want the badge that says I’m Developer of the Decade. I work hard and built my business from nothing. I want to show my dad and mum that they did the right thing almost twenty years ago by moving us from Slough, just outside London, to New York City. I want to show my dad that all those early mornings meant something. I know they know I’m successful, and I know they’re proud, but this is a third party telling them, and the world, that their son came out alright. That I’m a success.
“Sounds like you don’t think it’s a good idea,” Worth says.
I start to give him all the reasons I gave Jules as to why it’s not a good idea. As I talk, Fisher and Jack both turn to listen.
“I don’t know why I’m questioning it.”
“So why are you?” Worth asks. Damn Worth and his pertinent questions.
“You know how I feel about the separation between me and the people who work for me.”