Chapter Eight
Wes
My day off left me more exhausted than a full workweek. Whether it was the mini golf or the emotional leakage, I can’t be sure. What I do know is I’m twisted into a damn pretzel by the time I make it to the hotel to start my shift the next evening.
My afternoon was spent in my closet-sized office on campus, trying to call around for apartments in my price range while doing a shit job of processing what happened in an actual closet on campus.
Never mind the gay bar, which left me with more questions than answers. Or after, when I didn’t simply let Troy and Adam back me into a corner. This time I followed them willingly.
I don’t think I’ve ever been a bigger fucking mess.
Christ, when I finally caught Gina cheating, I didn’t lose it the way I feel like I’m losing it now.
On my way into work, I check my phone to see if my brother has followed up to his last text:
Fallon: Ravi said Liam’s out of town but he’ll have him get in touch as soon as he’s back. Not sure when that’ll be.
Nothing new from him, but I also have another message from the premier’s head of housekeeping:
Murray: Hey man, can you swing by my office on your way into work this evening?
Fuck, I was supposed to do that last shift, wasn’t I? It’s not like me to forget these things, and I hate how foggy my brain has been. Worse, I know exactly why.
I swing by the management office for a bottle of water before trekking down the long hallway that leads to the kitchens and laundry. An older woman pushing a laundry cart limps past me. She’s got her head down, tapping at her phone as she goes.
“Emmy. Hey.”
She shoves the phone inside her smock. “Mr. Monroe. Sorry, sir. I was checking in on my granddaughter.”
“It’s fine.” I nod toward her foot. “Thought you were supposed to get surgery on that thing.”
“Oh.” She clears her throat as she glances down.
“Sure. I need to accrue some more leave time first. I missed a week of work when my granddaughter was sick, and they say I’ll need a few weeks of rehab before I can return to the job.
Big Boss has been threatening to let people go for missing too many days.
Not sure if that’s why we’re short-staffed lately, but it’s not making things easier. ”
By the big boss, she means Max. There’s nobody in the world I want to have a conversation with less, but that isn’t her fault.
She’s clearly struggling to walk. “Let me have a talk with him. Maybe we can reach a compromise on the time off, or you can take on something less strenuous for a while.” I gesture to the cart, piled high with sheets and towels. “I know how heavy those things are.”
She gives a light laugh. “Do you, sir?”
“Hey. I’ll have you know, I’ve done literally every job in this hotel.” When Gina and I first moved here to be closer to my brother, I had to work my way up.
Also, the glamour of this place requires flexibility. When we’re short-staffed, it’s on me or the daytime manager to ensure those gaps get filled.
“You think working housekeeping is bad? I once had a maintenance call on a clogged toilet on the VIP floor. Someone had tried to flush an entire wad of latex gloves and razor blades. To this day I don’t know what went on in that room.”
Yes, I wondered. Who wouldn’t? But whatever fucked-up thing the guest in that room had been part of, I was happier not knowing.
She chuckles again and shakes her head. “Probably something kinky. Back before you came to work here? I had to clean a room where this couple had absolutely destroyed the place. Blood smeared on the sheets. Champagne everywhere. We even had to repaint the walls.”
Suddenly the protein bar I wolfed down on my way in is tumbling like rocks in my stomach.
“Well, as much as I’m enjoying this game of who’s had to deal with the weirdest hotel problems. And trust me, I could play all day.
” She gives me a look that suggests she could match me detail for detail.
“I need to go talk to Murray. And I’m betting you’re about ready to clock out. ”
She nods. “As soon as I get this last load down to the laundry.” She points toward the storage room where we keep cleaning supplies and equipment. “Last I saw Murray, he was in there. Doing inventory. Probably wants to talk to you about Nadia.”
“Great. Thanks. And leave that.” I point to the cart. “I’ll take it down when I’m done.”
I turn to look in the direction she pointed. The last fucking thing I need is to walk into another custodial closet.
I’ve spent all afternoon pushing away the mental images of Adam with his lips wrapped around me, his eyes wide and full of lust, his mouth stretched wide while he looked right at me. The way Troy pinched my nipple, causing me to orgasm harder than I can remember in my entire fucking life.
My nipple is still sore. I resist the urge to reach up and rub at the tender flesh.
It’s bad enough that every bend and twist makes the cotton of my dress shirt brush the swollen and sensitive skin.
I’ll be in a world of trouble if I get hard standing here in front of a kind lady who’s been working at the Premiere since its grand opening twenty years ago.
Wait. “What about Nadia? Is something wrong?”
Nadia’s a new employee. Young and eager, a single mom. Housekeeping isn’t directly my domain to oversee, but since moving out of the house Gina and I shared, I’m at the hotel more often. I’ve seen nothing from Nadia but stellar work.
Emmy gestures with both hands up, a nonverbal “Who knows?”
“She didn’t come into work today,” she says. “Or yesterday.”
Dread settles in my stomach. This is sounding way too familiar. “Maybe the baby’s sick. Did she call in?”
It could be nothing. We can always hope, anyway.
Another shrug. “Don’t think so.”
I shake my head, waving her off. “I’ll let you get on with your evening.” At the last second I lean in, lowering my voice. “Hey, but do me a favor. Tell me if you hear anything, would you? I know sometimes issues with daytime folks don’t make it to me on the night shift.”
It was around the time I first suspected something was going on with Gina and Max that I got moved to nights. Coincidence? When the move allowed Gina and Max plenty of time to be in contact with each other while I was busy sleeping off the previous night’s work, I highly fucking doubt it.
As Emmy limps down the hall, however, I realize I’ve got to fucking deal with Max whether I like it or not. I’m honestly concerned Emmy won’t make it through the holidays if something doesn’t change.
The ever-present two-way radio that I keep clipped to my belt when I’m on shift crackles to life. “Room service delivery needed. VIP floor.”
Shit. Mentally, I cross my fingers while I head to the custodial storage room. If someone else doesn’t grab that delivery soon, it’ll be on me to take it upstairs. As the manager, one of my priorities is to keep the VIPs happy and spending money.
A knock on the door when I reach the closet brings Murray’s head around. He’s unpacking boxes of disinfectant and clicking a counter as he places them on a shelf.
While I do my damnedest to focus on the housekeeping manager, a bespectacled older redhead who’s a bit stooped over from years of working in the industry, the first whiff of cleaning products brings back memories from my time with Adam and Troy.
The ghost sensation of Troy’s nose on my neck, and the way he whispered to me that he liked my smell, forces me to suppress a shiver.
What the hell is wrong with me?
Too many things.
“You wanted to talk to me?” I ask Murray, pushing the memory down again.
After my first encounter with Adam and Troy at the gym, I did my best to dismiss it as a one-time occurrence. But now?
After the run-in at the gay bar, after that moment when my sanity left me and I went with them on what felt oddly like a date? And then the teasing touches when they drove me back to where I’d parked my car…
Now, I don’t know what to think or do. Logic tells me these guys are fucking around, giving me a hard time because I tried to get my brother to dump their friend. It’s a lot of damn trouble to go to, though, simply because they think I’m an asshole.
Isn’t it?
Maybe I’m making too much out of everything? Maybe they’ve had their fun and now they’ll lose interest in whatever game they’re playing.
Murray finishes emptying the box in his hands and straightens. “Nadia didn’t show up for work yesterday or today.”
“I heard. She’s got a kid at home. Maybe—” Even as I repeat the same explanation I gave to Emmy, the rocks in my belly tumble again.
The explanation sounds so hollow. For a while now I’ve worried that the unusual turnover is a sign of a bigger problem.
Murray nods, clearly having already considered my explanation. “I called the number on her paperwork. No response.”
“That doesn’t necessarily mean anything.”
“No. It doesn’t. It’s a lot lately, though. Don’t you think?”
Glad someone else is finally thinking what I’m thinking, I nod. “Have you talked to anyone else about this?”
“Sure. I wanted to have information before I ran it up the flagpole. At first, I thought maybe it was working conditions. Someone causing a hostile environment, perhaps. I worked at a boutique resort in Orlando that deteriorated significantly after the owner’s son took over.
Had a bad habit of cornering the women on staff in closets and unoccupied rooms and pressuring them into a non-traditional sort of performance review, if you get my meaning. ”
“That’s disgusting.” Even as I say it, I’m back on campus in that custodial closet. I’m in that gym on campus, holding my breath while Troy spits on my cock to lube it up.
Aaand now I’m repositioning myself behind a floor polisher to hide my body’s response. Disgusted isn’t exactly how I felt at the time, even if I should have been. Unless you count disgusted with myself.
“Umm. Uh-huh.” Fuck. Pulling a cough drop from my pocket, I clear my throat. “Sorry. Allergies.”
Get yourself together, Wes.
But I like the lie. It soothes my jagged edges a little to pretend my problems are simpler and less cliché than a midlife identity crisis.
“What did you find out with the staff?”
“Nothing much aside from Max…” He glances out into the hallway. So do I, but nobody’s around. “Max has been an even bigger dick than usual. Not in a harassing way, though. Just a regular dick way.”
“Yeah. I’m well aware of his…dick.” Not even going to go there right now. “Anything else?”
“Nothing definitive. I did try informing Max.”
“Better you than me,” I mumble. I tried to bring my concerns to him as well. Would’ve been better off putting pictures of the absent staff on milk cartons.
Murray laughs. “Right. Well. He clearly isn’t concerned. Suggested maybe it’s the time of year. Holidays are coming. People visiting family. Ghosting the job altogether if they don’t have enough leave time.”
I think back to my conversation with Emmy and make a mental note to have a talk with the dick in question.
“I suppose it’s possible. As far as I recall, though, this time last year wasn’t this bad.”
My radio crackles to life again. “Still waiting on room service for fourteen twenty-four.”
“Shit.” I pull the radio off my belt and press the button. “On my way.”
To Murray I say, “Gotta take care of this. Let me know if you hear anything else. My brother’s boyfriend knows a guy who knows a guy who does some sort of security work.
It’s a long shot, but I’m trying to get in touch to get another perspective.
He’s supposed to contact me when he gets back from out of town. ”
God knows, Max is too busy screwing me over to give a shit.
Murray gives a tight smile. “What else can you do, right? I wondered about going to the police, but what if we’re making too much out of nothing?”
“Right.” I’ve thought the same thing.
Nodding, I hustle out of the supply closet and down to the kitchen. The only good thing that came out of that conversation is that it made my erection go down.