6. Sebastian
Mila stares up at me like I’ve grown two heads. The utter shock on her features makes me grin. Her hair blows wildly, and I can picture it spread across the white hotel pillow.
“We meet again,” I say, sliding aside so she can walk by.
She passes me to enter the hallway, her rolling suitcase bumping over my polished shoes.
She’s flustered. I glance down at the scrape across the top of my shiny toe.
She gasps. “Oh, no. Did I do that?” She drops to her knees, licking her thumb to wipe the mark.
“It’s fine, Mila. Don’t worry about it. It’s just a shoe.”
She looks up at me, her hair a wild tangle on her shoulders. Those big brown eyes about kill me. And those lips. I want to kiss them right now.
“If you’re checking in, the front is where guests enter. Did you decide to transfer here from the other hotel?”
Mila stands abruptly. “Oh, God. Yes. I mean no. Oh, God.”
She’s really out of sorts.
“Hey,” I say. “It’s okay that you took off this morning. I get it. Things happened kind of fast. But for what it’s worth, I have no regrets.”
She opens her mouth like she might say something, then doesn’t. She stares at my ID card like it’s bearing secrets.
I hold it out. “Sebastian Young. I don’t think we got to last names or workplaces.” I take the rolling handle of her bag. “I can help you to the front and get you checked in. Maybe we could even have dinner tonight? The restaurant here is good, or I would love to show you some of my favorites around Boulder.”
She watches me, her mouth opening and closing again.
Okay, something’s wrong.
“I apologize. You clearly had second thoughts this morning, and here I am pressuring you.” I turn away, pulling her bag. “Let me get you to the front desk.”
I head down the hall, turning to see if she follows.
She seems dumbstruck for a moment, looking to the left and right. Then she shoulders her other bag and moves forward.
“I can take that one too, if you like.”
She shakes her head.
We’re deep in the bowels of the hotel, and it takes a few minutes to traverse the halls to make it to the back door to the lobby.
The desk is empty of guests at the moment. I roll her suitcase to the long mahogany counter. “Aisha, this is Mila. She’s checking in. Take good care of her.”
“Yes, sir,” Aisha says.
I turn to Mila. “I’m easy to ask for here. Any employee can page me. Just ask. I would like to see you again, but I understand if that’s impossible.” I want to plead my case, but now we’re in front of employees, and clearly she’s not that into me.
She watches me. She’s said nothing since her initial expression of shock.
Time for goodbye, then. I shouldn’t say too much in front of Aisha, anyway. Aisha is a talker. “It was very nice to have met you…and everything. I won’t soon forget it.” I give her a nod and turn away.
You win some, you lose some. Damn. This one smarts.
I hurry back to the employee corridor to resume my duties. Funny how Mila got confused about where to go. The path for the guests versus the employees is clearly marked.
And what an odd coincidence. First that hotel, then this one. Meeting me, then finding me here.
Or was it? She couldn’t have known I’d be here. I didn’t tell her where I worked. It hadn’t come up.
She seemed thoroughly shocked. I shake off the weird feeling about our second encounter as I approach the offices again. My assistant manager, Raya, is speaking to Maverick, and it doesn’t look to be going well.
But not too many things make Raya happy. Subordination does. And getting her way. She’s not an easy coworker, but she gets the job done. She was livid when Havannah hired me over promoting her. But it was the right call. Senior management isn’t only about being tough, but also a keen listener.
Raya is not good at that.
And her tone is a familiar one.
She crosses her arms over her chest. “Maverick, we made clear that our hospitality hires would be doing all types of shifts.”
“And I bet you’re sticking me with maintenance right off the bat.” His posture in jeans and a white T-shirt is defiant. “Let me guess, the women are cooking and cleaning?”
Raya looks to me in exasperation. “This one is yours,” she says. “You handle him.”
She stalks down the hall to her office, her heels clopping on the polished floor.
Yeah, she does that, too. Ditches the dirty work and leaves it for me.
I approach Maverick. “Everybody will do all the shifts. Nothing is gender specific.”
He shrugs. “She stuck in my craw, that’s all.”
Raya didn’t like that I hired Maverick as a favor to my father’s former best friend, who has been family to Arya and me since we were kids. Maverick is his nephew, a classic underachiever with a chip on his shoulder. He barely graduated UC Boulder. His GPA wasn’t exactly inspiring, but then, neither was mine.
“So, should I switch it up? You can make sandwiches in the deli, shovel donkey dung in the barn, wash sheets, or stock deliveries.”
“This is a shit job,” he says. “I have a fucking college degree.”
I shrug. “Then take that degree and get a spot somewhere else. We had close to a thousand applicants for these intern spots.”
He leans against the wall, tilting his chin to the ceiling. He’s tough, but smart, and he knows he’s got something good here. Besides, his student loans have to be killing him, and even the interns get paid well here, plus free room and board.
“Tell me why this is important again?” he asks.
Good. He’s listening now. “You have to troubleshoot fast at a job like this. If you don’t know how housekeeping runs the rooms, then you don’t know if you can really check in a bus full of tourists inside of an hour when they arrive before they’re supposed to. If you don’t know how to fix a thermostat, you’re probably not going to be able to handle an upset guest who wants to warm up after a cold hike.”
“We have staff for all that.”
“We do. But hotel management deals in problems and promises. You have to solve the problem and make the promise you can deliver. Until you know what everyone here really does, you can’t do that.”
He pushes away from the wall. “I’m going to get my shit.”
I watch him head for the back door. That one will be hard to manage, that’s for sure. But I stole one of Raya’s prized spots, so I have to handle it.
Raya leans out of her office. She was listening. “You’re going to regret that one.”
“Maybe.”
She shuffles through a stack of ID badges. “The interns keep getting locked out, so I’m going to give these out now rather than at the meeting.” She untangles Maverick’s and passes it to me. “I’ll pass out the rest.”
“Are they all here?” I spot the name “Brooklyn Henry” on the top ID.
“This one is.” She taps Brooklyn’s ID. “And this one.” The next one reads “Owen Thomas.” She’s about to show me the next one when someone knocks at the back door.
Raya hurries to open it. “And there they are.”
A tall blonde woman and a friendly-looking man enter, both hauling massive suitcases.
“Hi,” the woman says.
“Hello, recruits,” I say. “Let me get you some carts.”
Raya closes the back door and detangles the ID badges again. “Good luck getting Bertie to let any go.”
I pull my cell phone out to text him. “He’ll have to. I’m the boss.”
Raya’s laugh is hollow. “You are indeed.”
While the interns put on their badges, I tap out the message, already wondering if I can get Bertie to tell me if he assisted a certain dark-haired woman to her room.
I have to see her again. There has to be a way.