27. Mila
The Monday morning meeting is tense.
I spotted Sebastian on my way to the staff room, and I’m trying not to think terribly dirty thoughts about him as Raya introduces the proctor who will administer our certification tests.
We all sit at different tables. Brooklyn is near the door. I’m by the wall. Ilsa is behind me. Owen is behind Brooklyn.
And Maverick? He’s nowhere to be seen.
Raya’s lips pinch tightly together as she taps messages on her phone. Brooklyn’s face is a neutral mask. I probably should have spent more time with her over the weekend after the Maverick incident.
But all I wanted was to be in Sebastian’s bed. And I was. Sunday afternoon was languid and easy. But I’m sore today after all our activities, and I squirm in my seat. Who knew so much sex in a two-day period could be this hard on your body?
I vow to hang out with her today as much as possible, and definitely suggest dinner. I assume we’ll be together again this week as we rotate.
When five minutes pass and still no Maverick, Raya says, “Let’s go over the assignments for the week. When you are done with your exam, you’ll go straight to your position.” She taps on her iPad. “Maverick, never mind, he’s not here. Brooklyn, you will be in the kitchen today. Ilsa, you will be at the host stand in the main restaurant. Owen, you move to front desk. Mila, you will be in human resources.”
I almost wish for laundry or kitchen work to keep my hands busy and my mind free, but HR is good. I’ll meet more staff.
Be far from Sebastian.
And all the empty rooms.
The hallways with no security footage.
I glance in the corners. There are no cameras in this room. Sebastian and I discussed this last night. All the halls other than the secure ones have them. So do the elevators, lobby, and restaurants. Anywhere money changes hands is watched. So are all exterior doors.
But most of the employees-only areas are camera-free. And of course all the guest rooms. It’s getting in and out of them that gets recorded, plus the system logs all employee scans through locked doors.
Sebastian and I are not breaking laws here. Just a little fraternization clause. But I suppose if something did go wrong, it wouldn’t take much to find out all the places we went together.
Not that it would come to that.
A few more minutes pass. The balding proctor sips his coffee, shaking his wrist to reveal his watch from beneath the cuff of his white shirt.
Raya’s face is bright red. “Okay, go ahead and start. We can give Maverick his late.”
The proctor lifts a stack of exams. “Mark your answers clearly and plainly. I will grade them as you turn them in. We’ll fill in your digital certificates upon completion, and the printed ones will be mailed to you.”
He walks between the tables, dropping the booklets on the desk. “If you fail to pass the exam, you can opt to review the correct answers, and take it again immediately. I’m here until noon. Otherwise, you’ll need to schedule a test on your own time at one of our exam locations.”
I write my name on the front page of the booklet and wait. I’ve taken this exam twice already in Texas, once when I worked at a resort in high school, then again as part of our college coursework. I’m not worried. Eighty percent of it is common sense. The rest is about food temperatures and safety.
The proctor returns to the front of the room. “This test is untimed. When you are finished, bring it to me. You may begin.”
I flip to the first page of questions.
The door opens with a whoosh and Maverick comes in, followed by Sebastian. Both are scowling.
My stomach turns. Did Raya make Sebastian go find him? I haven’t asked Sebastian about his relationship to Maverick, but everyone says he’s related, and that’s why Maverick isn’t taking his internship seriously.
I glance at Brooklyn to see how she’s faring with his appearance, but she stays focused on her test booklet, rapidly circling answers.
Sebastian waits for Maverick to sit down like he’s a kid skipping class, then for the proctor to pass him a test.
Raya realizes Maverick doesn’t have anything to write with and heaves a huge sigh as she fetches a hotel pen from a container near the front of the room.
Her pointed look at Sebastian could have withered a tree.
His eyes briefly meet mine before he turns and heads out again.
I look behind me at Owen and Ilsa.
Owen spots me and makes a grimace. Ilsa pretends to focus on her test, but she keeps glancing over at Maverick.
Maverick kicks a leg out, spinning the pen in his hand. He clearly does not want to be here.
Maybe it would be better if he was gone. Brooklyn would be relieved, I think. Hopefully she didn’t relapse with him over the weekend.
Raya clears her throat, and I spot her looking at me.
Right, the test.
I focus on the questions and start plowing through them.
Handwashing. Food temps. Food-borne illnesses. Perishable items. Cleaning solvents.
The room quiets, only broken by the occasional scratch of pen on paper or a muffled cough.
Ilsa finishes first, walking confidently to the front like a star pupil showing off. The proctor compares her pages to his answer sheet.
“Perfect score,” he says. He takes a moment to type in her information from the front cover. “You’re all set.”
Raya walks her to the hall. “Hunter will meet you in the restaurant. Go in through the back.”
I check my booklet. One more page.
Brooklyn finishes, passes, and is sent to the kitchen. Then I’m done.
I only miss one question, the safe time of transport of frozen foods. Even so, I’m annoyed to have checked the wrong answer.
Raya points to the door of HR. “Have you been back there yet?”
“No.”
“Suze will be at her desk near the door. She’ll tell you what to do.”
“Thanks.”
Owen stands up as I’m leaving. Maverick doesn’t appear to have turned a single page. Yikes.
I walk down the hall, but when Raya is out of sight, I pause to text Sebastian.
What’s the deal with Maverick?
He doesn’t respond right away. He might be with a guest.
This will have to wait.
I open the door to HR. It’s a big room with three women at desks, plus a larger, closed office near the back.
A woman in a flowing maxi-dress printed with daisies stands up. She’s grinning a mile a minute. “You must be our intern! I’m Suze, the administrative assistant. I’m the one who handled all the applications.”
I remember her name now. I extend a hand for a shake. “So glad to put a face with the emails.”
“We’re so excited you’re here. Everyone’s all abuzz at who might be the event manager. We’re so glad Havannah decided to hire more help. She’s going to have her hands full with that baby!” She gestures for me to follow her. “This here’s Georgia and Emily. Our head of HR is Jessie, but she’s not here at the moment. You’ll meet her later. Everyone, say hi to our intern Mila!”
The other women wave from their computers.
For a moment, I wonder which one of them would call me in if someone ratted out me and Sebastian.
Suze leads me to a spot on the side wall with a small table and chair near a wall of filing cabinets. “We keep hard copies of quite a few documents. Jessie thought it might be useful for you to get an idea of what we do here if you learned the system and put some things away. Mostly applications, vacation requests, timesheets, and things like that. Stuff that was taken to meetings, or needs physical signatures, you know. Nothing too sensitive.”
“Okay.”
“Familiarize yourself with all the labels, then here are a few stacks of things. We put newest in front.”
“Got it.”
“Let me know if you need anything! There are a few hitches in the organization that might need explaining.”
I turn to the drawers. Most of the labels are what Suze said. Applications. Timesheets with date ranges. Toward the back are more interesting ones. Exit interviews. Investigations. Contracts. Violations. These are locked.
I try not to imagine printed screenshots of me and Sebastian in one of those cabinets and open the first folder stacked on top of the cabinets. “Intern finalists.” Huh. These were clearly passed around, as there are multiple handwritten notes on them.
I don’t look too closely as I head to the cabinet for applications. There are sections for Housekeeping, Kitchen, Security, Maintenance, Guest Relations, and Professional.
I check Guest Relations, but that’s room service, front desk and bellboys.
I head into the section for Professional. This is for management, accounting, operations, tech, and internships. I find a folder marked “Interns.” It’s thick with all the people who didn’t make the final cut.
My phone buzzes in my pocket. I’m not sure how the others feel about me using a cell on the clock.
At the front desk, nobody dared to pull one out unless they were on break. Other than Aisha. She would flaunt hers when the lobby was empty and announce whatever was happening. “Just got a text from Ray! He wants to get pizza. What you all think? Cosmo’s or Nick-N-Willy’s?”
I face away from the other HR staff, folder in hand and a drawer pulled to look busy at a glance. Then I take a peek.
It’s Sebastian.
He’s a mess.
That’s all he’ll say, I bet. And I get it. We’re in that place where personal and professional cross.
I’ve only gotten halfway through alphabetizing the finalists when there’s a commotion in the hall. A male voice is yelling.
Suze looks at the others. “What in the world?”
She circles her desk to peer out the door, then turns back. “It’s that good-looking intern.”
Emily hurries forward. She’s young, mid-twenties, and wearing a form-fitting sweater dress I could never pull off. “Maverick?”
Suze nods.
The two of them peer out the door.
I’m painfully curious, although Georgia remains at her seat, so probably I should as well.
Suze turns to us. “He’s yelling at Raya!”
And then we don’t need a play-by-play, because Maverick’s voice is loud and clear. “I’m not taking that stupid test again. You can shove it up your ass!”
Suze steps back as he passes, a mere blur in the gap.
“Oh my!” Suze says.
Then, she rushes back to her seat, and so does Emily, who scurries to her desk.
Moments later, Raya bursts into the room. “Where is Jessie?”
Suze looks up as if nothing has happened. “She’s at an appointment this morning. We expect her back around eleven.”
“Tell her to call me the minute she returns.”
I focus on my folder until she’s gone.
The women all abuzz with excitement.
“Maverick’s going to get his butt fired,” Georgia says, shaking a head full of braids. “He’s done screwed the pooch with Raya.”
“By screwing half the laundry crew,” Emily says. “Everybody knows it. I heard Anna already went to Sebastian about it.”
Anna. Anna. Was that the head of housekeeping? I keep my eyes trained on the folder in my hand.
Then I realize, I’m down to our applications. Mine, Brooklyn’s, Owen’s, Ilsa’s. I’ve hit the ones who were accepted.
I shouldn’t have these.
But I do.
I glance quickly at the others, but they are still talking animatedly.
“We want the details,” Suze says. “Is it Cristal? Zara? They always go for the hot guys.”
“Them and more,” Georgia says. “There’s the redhead in room service.”
“Kennedy,” Emily says.
But I already know all this. I want to find Maverick’s application.
I lift Ilsa’s, expecting to see his.
But it’s not there. I reach the back of the folder.
I turn it to the front. “Intern finalists.”
It holds the four of us who won. And about fifteen who almost made the cut that I already filed.
I nonchalantly stand and finger through the alphabetized drawer of everyone who was passed over.
No Maverick.
He never even applied.
There were a thousand entries.
That’s some powerful nepotism.
No wonder Raya’s mad.