6 - Adriana
Adriana
To my relief, the party was a huge success, and I managed to avoid getting into a bikini the whole time. The rest of the night mostly involved small requests and planning for the next day.
Now, I was standing outside of Mr. Klein’s office, and it was almost midnight.
My feet were killing me, and I was in desperate need of a nap.
But my first day was basically over, and I didn’t get fired, injured, or severely embarrassed.
Frankly, I was sure I had hit it out of the park, even with Celeste’s constant criticism during the tasting and the mishaps with Reggie and Nolan.
Really, I was convinced that Bryant’s party made up for all of those.
I steeled myself before knocking on Mr. Klein’s door.
“Come in,” I heard from the other side, and I did just that, closing the door behind me. Mr. Klein was standing by the bar along one of the walls, and he turned to face me with a small smile on his face that woke butterflies in my stomach.
“Congratulations,” he started, grabbing two glasses and placing them on the bar counter. “You’ve survived your first day. That earns you a drink.”
“Uh,” I paused, glancing around the office as if I was looking for a hidden camera. “I can’t. I’m technically still on the clock.”
Mr. Klein scoffed, clearly amused, and poured two whiskeys anyway. “After the day you’ve had, I insist you take a moment to relax. We’re just going over the guest schedules anyway. It’s not like you have to build a rocket before you clock out.”
I moved toward him. “In that case, thank you.”
He offered me one of the glasses, and I took it, my fingers brushing across his.
I had to look away for a moment to get my focus back when I felt the electricity from that brief touch.
After clearing my throat, I made my way to the pair of high-back chairs on the other end of the office, where a tablet lay on the table between them.
“Please, take a seat,” he said, his voice gentle and somehow comforting. At this point, I was sure I wasn’t in trouble for the mistakes I had made that day.
I sat down in one of the chairs, while he took the other. Even sitting, he held his back straight and his shoulders firm, though he managed to look comfortable even in that position. I wondered how much practice that had taken, or if it was natural to him.
He was swirling his whiskey in his hand and staring at it now, like he was deep in thought, or daydreaming about something distant. It gave me a moment to truly look at him, to notice all the small details that I hadn’t considered during that crazy day.
His face was softer now, and I was sure it wasn’t because of the lighting in the room.
It felt as if he’d taken off the mask of The Pacific’s general manager, and was showing me a glimpse of what lay beneath it.
The tightness in his shoulders had also seemed to have disappeared, despite his maintenance of perfect posture. He almost looked more human now.
“Okay, let’s talk,” he said, and glanced in my direction before placing his glass on a leather coaster on the table. I took a quick sip of my own drink and did the same.
He picked up the tablet and unlocked it. “Things were pretty crazy today, weren’t they?”
A prickle of nervousness danced across my mind, and I found myself reaching for the glass I’d just put down for another sip. I wasn’t sure where to start, and I didn’t know how much Mr. Klein knew about what had happened in the kitchen.
“Nolan spoke to me,” he continued with a sigh. “Seems like the two of you got off on the wrong foot.”
He didn’t seem like he was angry with me, at least not the way Nolan was. It was a small relief, but I still didn’t know what to expect. His expression seemed concerned rather than disappointed, though.
“Yeah,” I said softly, staring down at my drink and wishing I could down it all in one go. “I messed up there. Sorry, Mr. Klein.”
“Call me Landon, please. And Nolan’s not an easy guy to get along with,” he answered.
I noticed his hand reach in my direction, but he hesitated and pulled back.
I wondered whether he’d had the urge to put it on my knee and had eventually decided against it.
“I’m sure even if everything had gone down perfectly, he would’ve found a reason to argue with someone.
I wouldn’t take it too personally if I were you. ”
“I guess,” I shrugged. “But I did a lot of stupid things. Almost ruined the tasting.”
“Mm.” Landon was in thought for a moment, like he was searching for what to say about my screw-ups that wouldn’t come over as too harsh. It was interesting to see him be so kind, especially since I had expected strict rigidity from him.
“Look, I’m not going to lie, you did throw a wrench in the works,” he finally concluded.
“But I’m going to chalk that up to first-day jitters for now.
Try and make sure it doesn’t happen again, and for the love of all that is holy, don’t try to touch random things in the kitchen if you don’t absolutely have to. ”
His short chuckle after that sentence made me laugh along with him. “Promise, I won’t.”
“Good.” He flipped to an app on the tablet, before reaching to take another sip of his drink.
Finally, he sat back somewhat in the chair, like he was getting slightly more comfortable.
I liked seeing this side of him, maybe a little too much.
“Honestly, the best way to deal with Nolan is just to stay out of his way. If you can manage that, you’ll be fine. ”
I wasn’t sure that I could. Working with Nolan was a big part of my job. I’d probably have to at least talk to him every single day. But maybe I could do that without physically running into him.
“Thanks for the advice,” I said with a smile, glancing down at the tablet. “Full schedule tomorrow, huh?”
“It’s mostly an everyday thing,” Landon confirmed. “We’ve got Reggie’s breakfast again, a few requests for helicopters, two private dining room events, and Mr. Thatcher’s day trip. You have all of the briefs for those, right?”
I nodded confidently. “I’ll look over them again, and don’t worry, I won’t be giving Reggie anyone else’s helicopter this time.”
That seemed to amuse him, and the corner of Landon’s mouth lifted into a half-smile that threatened to make me melt. Once again, I had to look away for a moment. This was ridiculous. I could absolutely not develop a crush on my boss. It was completely and utterly and entirely off-limits.
“Right, Reggie,” he stretched the name out as if he was exasperated. “I probably should give you a bit of intel about him. Actually, maybe about all of the VIPs. You’ll be dealing with them often, and I don’t want them to eat you alive.”
I raised both eyebrows, now clasping the glass of whiskey in my hands as if it were a mug of coffee. “They can’t be that bad.”
“Not always,” he replied, pulling his lips in a tight line for a moment. “And if you know how to deal with them, they’re fairly easy to survive. But… Well, if you don’t know them well enough, you might have a horrible time here.”
“I see.”
“Reggie’s not that bad,” he went on, pulling up a profile on the tablet with Reggie’s picture.
It looked like he had a whole list of all of the regular guests with details on each; maybe to keep them organized in his own head.
I made a note to try and create lists of my own.
I’d already realized how tough it was going to be to remember everything I had to do.
Adding everyone’s personal and often ridiculous preferences and requests without noting them down would be almost impossible.
“With him, you really just need to know how to haggle,” he explained. “He’s going to ask for a lot, and usually at the last minute. Half of the time, it’s something we simply can’t do without jeopardizing one of the other guests. Like you saw today.”
“I’m sorry about that,” I answered, feeling the heat in my cheeks. “I really thought I was being helpful.”
“It’s fine. When you’re working with Reggie, always make sure that you double-check everything he’s asking for. Offer something else if it isn’t possible. He’s fairly easily swayed with a good bottle of liquor and rare food. As long as you don’t outright say no to him, you should be fine.”
I thought about that morning. I had been right about one thing; Reggie wasn’t used to being rejected. It looked like the best way to deal with him was just to corral him in a different direction.
“Got it,” I said with a sharp nod. “Reggie needs a border collie.”
Landon actually laughed at that, and the moment made my heart skip a beat. “Yeah, exactly. Next up; Isabella Radcliff. I believe you met her assistant today.”
“Oh, the laptop issue,” I said, remembering the first problem I’d run into that morning. “I believe they were moved to 544.”
“Usually, we have another room prepped for them after they check in,” he explained, rubbing at the bridge of his nose. “Almost every time, Isabella has some kind of issue with the one she’s given. You’ll see, next time she’ll book 544 again, and she’ll ask to move the day after she gets here.”
“Really? Why?” I frowned, deciding that enough time had passed that I could sip at my whiskey again. It was smoother than anything I’d ever had before, probably priced higher than my monthly rent.
“I’d suggest never asking why our guests request odd things,” he laughed. “Otherwise, it might drive you crazy. Just smile, nod, and pretend it’s the most normal thing you’ve ever heard.”
“I see,” I nodded slowly in agreement, though I admitted to myself that I would still always be curious. I was still thinking about that man who hated triangle configurations, and was still wondering what trauma he’d gone through to get him to that point.
“What about Mr. Thatcher?” I ventured, deciding that even if it was risky to ask about him, I might as well give it a shot. “Do you have any info on dealing with him?”
Landon stared at me for a while before he answered, as if he was being careful with what he said.
“Mm, with him, it’s best to just smile politely and move on. Don’t get too involved.”
That was interesting. It seemed like Mr. Thatcher affected him in a similar way as all of the other staff. That made me even more curious about him, and who he was. What magical power did he have over all of them?
“If anyone else gives you trouble, you can reach out to me,” he finally added. “For now, I think you deserve a break. You can leave.”
“Thank you,” I answered, before taking the last sip of my whiskey and getting up. I headed for the door, but as I was about to open it, he spoke again.
“Oh, and Adriana?”
“Yes?” I looked over my shoulder at him, and I couldn’t quite place the expression he had on his face.
“If you ever need anything, day or night…” he paused, and his eyes subtly crossed over my body. “I’m available.”
I nodded quickly, said “thanks”, and got right out of there. Had that offer been suggestive of something? It couldn’t have been. There was nothing between us. There couldn’t be.
Could there?