31. Mila
When I return to HR, Jessie, Suze, and Emily are talking near Jessie’s office. They pay no attention to me, so I sit before the filing cabinets and resume sorting a mess of punched time cards from the kitchen and housekeeping staffs that need to be organized and filed.
I make two stacks, my brain checking out as I make the piles based on which machine was punched.
Then something Jessie says draws my attention to their conversation.
“The fraternization clause is there to make sure there is no disruption to work tasks.”
Suze clucks her tongue. “I’d say banging three different girls in laundry and room service is a disruption.”
Jessie sighs. “I’m sure they were on break, not that we have a solid timeline, but the fact that Cristal and Zara got in a physical altercation over it is enough.”
Emily frowns. “But are we going to bring in Cristal and Zara over what Maverick is doing? He’s clearly baiting them.”
Suze speaks up. “I agree. He’s the one who’s the problem.”
Jessie fiddles with her hair. “He didn’t make Zara punch Cristal.”
I glance over there as often as I dare. Jessie is clearly annoyed by the situation. Suze looks to be there for the gossip. Emily wants to protect the women.
They don’t seem to know about Maverick and Brooklyn.
That boy gets around.
But I circle back to the first thing Jessie said. It can’t cause a disruption in work tasks.
Would a quickie in an empty room count? I’m pretty sure I took too long for lunch, even though nobody said anything when I came in.
And while I know there are no cameras in the secure hall or that secret staircase, I’m clearly in the elevator and security might ping that a lowly intern suddenly has access to an area where I’m not supposed to go.
At the same time, Maverick is drawing all the attention. A few glances between me and Sebastian, or an occasional disappearing act, aren’t going to get noticed with all this other drama.
Jessie seems to realize I’m back, because she breaks up the conversation. “I’ll call him in. And the women. This is going to be a thing.”
Suze heads to her desk. Emily lingers for a moment at the back of the room as if she has more to say, then sits in her chair.
I keep my head down for the better part of an hour, sorting time cards.
Suze eventually wanders over. “You’re moving fast. I’m sorry there is such a backlog. We rarely find time to do it.”
“No, it’s great. I learned a lot at the front desk about handling guests, and here, I’m learning a lot about the shifts people work, and how many employees there are.”
“These are just the hourly workers, of course. There are no time cards for the salaried ones like you and me. Have you worked in the kitchen or laundry yet?”
“No, but it’s coming. My friend Brooklyn has the kitchen today. And there were others in the dish room last week.” I decide not to use Maverick’s name.
“Raya won’t leave you long on those shifts, but it’s good to get a feel for the different parts of the hotel. The laundry crew is tight, normally. They do happy hours and see each other after hours. Housekeeping doesn’t get to interact much, as they are in teams of two. The kitchen is full of cliques, and the deli is a party all the time. They like to do conga lines, and it’s become a tradition for them to pause at the top of every odd-numbered hour to do one with the guests.”
“That’s fun.”
“They gelled from the beginning. Duke is the primary manager, although the original manager Calypso still takes shifts.”
“I haven’t met any of those crews.”
“It’s a big place.”
“How many employees?”
“Around four hundred.”
“Whoa.”
Suze gestures to the time cards. “You’re looking at them. The vast majority are hourly.”
“Why are these physical cards? Isn’t it all electronic now?”
“We were all electronic in the beginning, but then a data crash caused a huge disaster. Havannah switched us to the punch/electronic combo, and everyone liked it because you could walk by the punch card wall and spot who is on shift.”
“I haven’t seen it.”
“There are two. One is on the back wall of laundry, where the housekeeping and janitorial staffs punch in. The other is on the back wall of the kitchen, where all food service and prep people check in.”
Suze checks her watch. “Jessie and I will be leading a new employee orientation at two. We have six new hourly staff plus a new security guard coming on board this week. You’re welcome to sit in if you want to see how those go.”
“That sounds fun.”
Suze smiles. “And a break from the filing cabinets.”
That too. My lower back is starting to complain.
Or is it from the bathroom incident?
Either way, I’m thrilled to follow Jessie and Suze out of the office a half-hour later to set up the staff room.
The proctor from the tests is long gone, and the tables have been shifted back to their usual configuration against the walls.
One young man in jeans and a T-shirt sits in the front row of chairs.
“We have an early bird!” Suze says. “We’ll have coffee and water in a minute.”
The man nods politely.
Suze turns to me. “Mila, why don’t you check in with the kitchen staff to make sure they’re bringing drinks to the meeting room?”
“Anyone I should ask for?”
“Not Monique, or she’ll growl at you. She’ll have the tallest chef hat. Filo will be good. He’s the food manager. He’s a big guy, also dressed in chef whites. Most of the regular workers will have short caps.”
“Got it. Just water and coffee?”
“I think I ordered some cookies, too.”
“I’ll ask.”
“Thank you.” Suze heads over to where Jessie is spreading paperwork out on a side table.
I haven’t had time to explore the kitchens, so when I turn down the tiny hall that cuts from the big service hall to the food prep area, I’m not prepared for the heat and the noise.
“Desserts up for Banquet 2!” A tall woman with a shock of black hair firmly encased in two tight balls below her high chef hat waves her arms at a half-dozen servers carrying trays of chocolate cake on white plates. “We do not have extras. Do not have any mishaps in the halls!”
The line of servers files past me for the service corridor. Another one pushes a cart carrying three additional shelves of cake plates. It must be a big gathering. The main ballroom was shut tight when I passed it earlier, so they must be at the smaller one on the western side of the castle.
The tall woman looks at me. “Who are you, and why are you in my kitchen?”
I have a bad feeling this is Monique, the very person Suze told me to avoid. “Suze wanted me to check on the water and coffee for the orientation?”
“I am a chef, not a delivery service.” She walks off.
Ooookay.
I stand there a moment, trying to spot the man Suze mentioned. Large. Also, a tall hat.
Everyone is moving swiftly, mostly people in white caps rushing around with bins of vegetables or stock pots.
Monique leans over a pair of women stirring huge vats on a long stove. “That smells too much like fennel. Fix it!”
I slip quietly along the wall with the staff offices, hoping to spot Filo.
Kennedy, the red-haired woman from room service we spotted kissing Maverick in the hall, glances up. She sits in front of a phone console with two screens.
Does she remember me from last week? Does she know I’m friends with Brooklyn?
I can’t worry about it.
“Do you know where Filo is?” I ask.
“Three doors down. If he’s not in his office, check the bakery. They messed up the dessert numbers, and he’s probably trying to figure out whose fault it is.”
Great. I’ve come during a crisis. That might be why orientation doesn’t have drinks.
“Thanks.”
I pass the open door to a huge pantry filled with dry goods. Then several yards of stainless steel that is cold to the touch. Must be the freezer or fridge space.
Finally, I reach a double office with two facing desks, separated by a tall bookshelf. One is neat as a pin with a computer, inbox, and pencil case.
The other is a wild mess, papers scattered, half-opened boxes, and… Is that a rutabaga on the chair?
I don’t want to be stereotypical, but I can’t imagine Monique in the messy space, so I assume it belongs to Filo. He’s not there, though, so I keep going, past the rows of stainless-steel chopping tables, to the corner near the delivery bay.
To the left is clearly the bakery part of the kitchen that leads to the corridor where I came in on the first day. Several workers in short white caps stand around tables covered in flour and chocolate, their plastic-gloved hands clasped in front of their uniforms.
A large man with wild black hair paces in front of them.
“And who did the ratios and prepped the supplies?” he asks.
One diminutive woman raises her hand. “I did, Chef Filo.”
“And did you think you were Jesus?”
She glances left and right. “Um, no, Chef.”
“Did you think you could use two loaves of bread and five fish to feed two hundred executives chocolate cake?”
I’ve found Chef Filo, but I can’t interrupt. I hold very still, not sure if maybe I should back away.
“No, Chef.”
“Did you have anyone double check your figures?”
“No, Chef.”
“And why is that an important step, particularly for banquets?”
“Because I might get it wrong, Chef.”
“And did you get it wrong?”
“Yes, Chef.”
He huffs out a slow breath. “There’s no fixing it. We can’t miraculously generate more cake. Hopefully not everyone will want dessert.”
“Chef?” Another woman near the back raises her hand.
“Yes?”
“We have some frozen cake in the freezer. It’s not the same recipe, but it is chocolate. We could frost it the same.”
“Now, this is what I like. Someone solving a problem, and not causing it.” Filo raises both hands. “Get to it. Now! It will thaw by the time you have it frosted.”
The crew scatters.
I wait by the wall, wishing I had not been sent on this mission.
He turns and sees me.
“Yes, madame? Clearly you are not a kitchen worker with your hair everywhere.”
I touch it self-consciously. “Suze asked about the refreshments for the orientation.”
“Right. Yes. Of course. We have had a mishap, and it slipped my mind. I will get it sent down right away. Coffee and water?”
“And cookies.”
“Of course.”
“Thank you, sir. I mean, Chef.”
He laughs. “Do not look so frightened. You didn’t short a banquet by six cakes!”
“Couldn’t they cut the pieces smaller?”
He laughs. “We could have, if someone had counted the cakes before we started cutting. But I like your thinking. Tell Suze we are on our way.”
“Thanks.” He strides for the noisy kitchen and Monique.
Nope, not getting near her again.
I decide not to cut through that way, but to escape to the main corridor, when I hear Brooklyn.
That’s right. She got the kitchen this morning.
I turn around to see if I can spot her.
Her voice is shrill. “Don’t even look at me, buster!”
Who is she talking to?
I move closer to the delivery door so that my wild hair and I aren’t too close to anybody cooking. When I pass the first row of work tables, I see her, an apron over her black vest, a white cap covering her blonde hair.
I inch closer as she says, “Find your own work station!”
Then I see the culprit.
Maverick. He must have been given kitchen duty, too. Or else he’s still on dish room duty. The far corner hosts a line of sinks and commercial dishwashers, as well as three workers madly loading stacks of plates, probably from the banquet. Brooklyn and Maverick stand between the sinks and the last row of work tables.
“Don’t be like that,” Maverick says. “You know we were a good time.”
Two of the dish washers glance at each other with a smirk.
Brooklyn lets out another indignant squeal. I think she’s about to smack him with a ladle when Monique arrives.
“Interns, knock it off. Maverick, you’re wanted in Sebastian’s office immediately. Brooklyn, I assume you will be able to complete your soup without the distraction.”
“Yes, Chef,” she says.
I step to my right so Monique won’t see me again. I’m trapped, but I want to check on Brooklyn.
When the head chef has moved on, I approach Brooklyn’s stove. She stirs a pot of something lemony yellow.
“Hey.”
She looks up. “Oh, thank God for a friendly face. This has been the worst day.”
“Has Maverick been here the whole time?”
“No, he just showed up. There’s a banquet, so everyone has been insanely busy. I don’t think my soup is edible.” She dips the ladle in it and lifts it, letting the thick, chunky yellow liquid fall back into the pot. “It’s the only task I’ve been given.”
“I’m in HR. It’s been wild. Maverick is the talk of the hotel.”
“Don’t say his name.” She smacks the ladle against the surface of the soup as if it’s Maverick’s head.
“I have to get back. We’ll talk later? We can do dinner in my room.”
She nods. “That’ll be good. If I get fired for killing that son of a bitch, it’s been nice knowing you.”
I laugh. “Good luck.”
I hurry along the back wall through the bakery kitchen where they are already slicing the newly frosted cakes. They’re fast.
My body only relaxes once I get to the corridor. The kitchen has been the most stressful part of the hotel so far.
I hurry to the orientation room. Six people sit in chairs, and Jessie points a remote at the projector attached to the ceiling.
I move close to Suze. “Filo says the drinks and cookies are on the way. They have a banquet today, so things are intense in there.”
“Oh, right. The banking people. Thanks.”
“Should I sit down?”
“Absolutely. Just hang out. When the drinks get here, maybe help with that. Or collecting paperwork.”
“Sure.”
I move a few rows back near the table where we always had our breakfast and lunches served during our first week. I assume that’s where they will set up.
The castle seems like a well-oiled machine from the guests’ point of view, which is what I could see the first week from the front desk. But there are definitely behind-the-scenes complications.
And many of them revolve around Maverick.