32. Sebastian
Maverick stalks into my office like a middle school troublemaker angry he’s gotten caught.
I lean back in my chair, as casually as I can make myself do it. “Close the door.”
He whirls around.
“Don’t slam it.”
His hand makes a fist, but I understand him better than I did before I talked to Carly Sutton, the campus advocate who somehow got this ball of fury to graduate from U of B.
He closes the door hard enough to make a point, but not enough to qualify as a slam.
“Take a seat.”
He falls onto the chair, sprawling with legs out, hands clasped behind his head. “You must love this,” he says.
This catches me off guard. “Love what? Taking two to three meetings a day, all about you?”
“Your superiority. Sebastian, the big boss. Head honcho. Is it time for me to pack my bags?”
Carly told me he’d come at me with what looks like an offensive, but is really a defensive maneuver. He was the king of trying to be the one to control a situation, even if it meant sabotaging it.
I’ve had a crash course on Maverick, as much as she could tell me without breaking confidentiality. I read between the lines that all the strategies and coping mechanisms she was about to mention would be helpful.
She also suggested he call her. She was happy to follow up.
“I am kind of a big deal around here,” I say. “Which is why you’re still sitting in this building. I’ve bought you another week, but we should come up with a game plan to get you in good graces.”
“I don’t give a shit what anybody thinks about me.”
“A good plan, honestly, but there are some minimum requirements to get a paycheck.”
“Banging the hotties isn’t against the law. I can’t help it if they get territorial.”
I hold up a hand. “I hear you on that. You could use some discretion, but I’m in agreement that you can’t be held accountable for their reactions.”
“And Henry and Beto in the dish room got along with me fine. And the kitchen staff requested me. How about that?”
“I did see all those good marks for your first week. That’s something to build on. Do you want to stay in the dish room and kitchen? I can make that happen. You don’t have to be in the running for event manager. You could be a liaison with events from food management.”
“I sure as hell wouldn’t have left fifty executives without dessert.”
I heard about the banquet snafu. “They fixed it.”
“Is this the kind of outfit you run?”
Back to an offensive. “I never said I was a good head honcho.”
“Are we done?”
“Not hardly. Why didn’t you take the exam this morning?”
“I already have my Colorado certification. It was stupid to take it again.”
“Are you curious why Raya wanted it done in-house?”
“Not really.”
I draw upon the well of patience I use with belligerent guests, like the mother who wanted the Grumpy dwarf ejected. “Raya wants everyone’s expirations to be in sync so she can track them. It’s for your long-term employment.”
“Sounds like I’m not very long term if you’re going to chuck me in a week.”
“We’re here to avoid that.” I try a new tactic. “Do you want to be chucked? Are you trying to get fired so you can leave?”
He frowns at that. “No.”
“Do you like it here?”
“Some.”
“What have been the parts you like?”
“The apartment is dope. The chicks are banger. The food is good.” He sits up. “Did you know there’s a kickass tower on the hiking trail? Killer place to hook up. The view is sweet with their tits swaying over a gorge.”
“I’m glad you’ve found some things to enjoy.” I clear my throat, the vision of my encounter with Mila briefly passing through my thoughts. I may be more like Maverick than I expected. “But this exam isn’t optional. Now you have to take it off site.”
“I won’t.”
I sigh. “Why is this the sticking point?”
“It’s dumb. I already took it.”
“When?”
“Sophomore year.”
“Then it’s about to expire. You have to take it again. That’s why we sync it here so we can offer the test to employees when they need it. If you’re in the system, you go on the list. You do it here at the hotel, on the clock. You get paid to take it!”
Maverick’s hand starts rapidly tapping his leg. Carly mentioned that, too, that people who struggle with frustration might use body movements to calm their nervous system. It’s both a tell and a coping strategy.
“Are you worried about passing the test?”
“Of course not.” Maverick’s face screws up like I said the dumbest thing ever. “A third grader could pass it.”
But his hand moves even faster. This is exactly what he’s afraid of.
Carly mentioned that some people — not necessarily Maverick, of course, as his diagnosis was confidential — but some people did better when written instructions were read aloud.
So if there are parts of his job requiring complex comprehension of written material, I should find a way to offer an oral version.
“It’s hard for some. We have an employee with dyslexia and another with ADHD who are coming due for their re-certification. So we’ll be doing another test for them, this one read aloud. If you think you can handle the read-aloud option, I can put you on the list to take it then. Will that work?”
“Who the fuck needs it read aloud?”
His voice is full of disdain, but his hand has stopped tapping.
We’re getting somewhere.
“Lots of people. We have a couple of low-vision employees as well, but they aren’t due yet.”
“Fine. If Raya’s going to have a damn fit about it, I’ll take it then.”
Another element of Maverick’s struggle unlocks. Reading is a challenge. He gets angry if he has to do something that should be easy, but for him, is hard.
I wonder if this is why he was so awful in school. Why wasn’t he tested? He probably hid it well. Charmed the teachers, maybe.
“I’ll let Raya know to put you on the list for the oral exam.”
“If I’m still here, of course.”
There’s that. “I think if you keep doing good work on your rotations, it will be fine. You shouldn’t be around Raya that much.”
“Good. She’s a piece of work.”
I don’t disagree with him there. “You’re in the kitchen today?”
“Yeah, Monique likes my chopping technique. I told her I’m good with my hands.”
“She said that?” Chef Monique is one of the toughest nuts in the hotel. Even I give her a wide berth when I can. She’s single, though. It would be wild for our forty-something chef to get entangled with an intern.
“I’m not going to fuck her,” Maverick says. “Even I know better than to strike that high.”
I almost agree that it’s unwise to break the hotel policies like that, but decide it would be better not to bring up the very fraternization clause that I’m quite decidedly breaking myself.
“Wise words.” I stand up. “Good luck in the kitchen. You there all week?”
He stands, too. “If Brooklyn doesn’t get me kicked out.”
“You’re not getting along with her? She seemed very likeable on the front desk.”
“If you mean lickable, yes, that.”
“Oh, I see.” She’s one of the scorned. “It’s a big kitchen. Maybe avoid her.”
“Where’s the fun in that?”
Before I can chide him further, he’s out the door.
That kid is going to be the death of us all.
But he’s right. My situation with Mila is a problem.
There’s just no way I’m going to give her up.