Chapter 11
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Hope was either a certifiable mad genius or just plain mad. It took Ryan a good fifteen minutes to get his head around the complicated legend which Camille’s former PA had listed in her instructions.
He didn’t have the heart to tell the French fashion designer that the instructions Hope had left for Camille were somewhat incomplete. As he worked through the convoluted system, Camille sat beside Ryan filling him in on the Neil drama, and the reasons for Hope’s sudden departure. By the time he’d figured things out, he was more than convinced that the missing instructions had not been a simple oversight.
I sense the touch of this Neil asshole’s hand on Hope’s email.
He finished chewing his food, then declared. “These muffins are absolutely delicious. Where did you get them from?”
She gifted him with a smile which made his heart skip a beat. “I had them delivered this morning. The heritage bacon is the best.”
He’d eaten two of them, washing them down with the coffee Camille had made. Ryan couldn’t remember the last time he’d had such a delicious breakfast. None of the food they’d served at Java Junction came close.
Wiping his face with his napkin, Ryan turned in his chair and faced Camille.
She was happily nursing a hot beverage. When she’d gone to make the coffees, he’d hazarded a guess that Camille was a stickler for tradition. Long black, with a dash of milk. No sweetener. No creamer. Ryan glanced at Camille’s cup and his barista instincts told him he was right.
If only my super power was more than being able to predicate the way people take their coffee.
His gaze flittered to Camille’s empty plate and then to his own. Her guilt over having knocked him down must have been so bad, she’d let him eat her portion of the breakfast muffins.
Now who feels bad?
Their collision in the street had been purely an accident. He wanted to show her that he held no hard feelings. Instead, he wanted to help.
“Is this spreadsheet something you would want to keep using going forward? I mean would you be happy to teach this to a new PA, or try to run it yourself?”
Camille let out a strangled whimper at his words. “To be honest, Ryan, I’d much prefer a big fat paper planner. I used to buy a fabric covered one from Merci in Paris each year. I had a matching pencil case full of pens and pencils which I loved. But Hope insisted I change. She said if I was to be taken seriously by the people at New York Fashion Week, I had to have an electronic system.”
“I would have to agree with her. You need a system that can be used by more than one person at a time, and also gives you the ability to access it remotely via the cloud.”
Camille took a long sip of her coffee. “I don’t really care what a system looks like, just as long as it’s something I can understand. If I can have that, I’ll be more than happy.”
“Ok, give me a little while longer and hopefully this gene will be able to grant you your wish,” replied Ryan. He gave Camille a wink.
After another half hour of taking notes and updating the instructions, Ryan had started to unravel the secrets of the spreadsheet. His head still throbbed, but he had achieved something.
He sat back from the desk. “Ok, so I’ve amended the instructions, and you should be able to make better sense of the system. Reading this was like trying to decipher the Egyptian hieroglyphics at the Metropolitan Museum of Art,” he said.
Camille gently laughed. “Actually I was going with Ancient Aramaic, but I’m glad that someone else found them hard to understand. It makes me feel less stupid.”
As she leaned forward to read the extra notes Ryan had made, the sound of an intercom buzz echoed in the room. She patted him on the shoulder, and rose from her seat. “That will be your new phone. Back in a moment.”
When she returned, she was carrying a small green and white paper bag. But that wasn’t what caught Ryan’s attention—rather it was the tall well-dressed gentleman who trailed in Camille’s wake. Ryan rose slowly from his chair.
Anyone who worked in the hotel industry in New York would recognize that face. He was Bryce Royal. CEO of Royal Resorts USA. He’d been named one of Forbes fastest rising stars earlier in the year, and was one of the USA’s youngest CEOs. To a guy like Ryan, Bryce Royal was nothing short of a legend.
Camille held out the bag to Ryan. “Your new phone. Delivered in exactly one hour.”
Unsure of what to say, Ryan took a hold of the bag and peeked inside. Con had sent him the very latest model iPhone. Something so far out of his price range, that even if he still had a job, he couldn’t afford one. “Thank you,” he finally managed.
Bryce held out his hand. “Bryce Royal, it’s a pleasure to meet you. Ryan, was it?”
They shook hands. “Yes, Ryan Collins. It’s an honor to meet you Mister Royal. I’ve heard so much about your developments in the hotel industry in Europe. And I’ve been watching what Royal Resorts have been doing here in the US over the past couple of years. Very exciting.”
Camille gave Bryce a sideways glance, and he shook his head. “Please call me Bryce, because if you don’t, I am going to get so much stick from my cousin.”
She laughed at him. “As you should. But I’m a little confused as to why you, the CEO of Royal Resorts and my chief investor, has been relegated to playing delivery boy for a phone.”
“That’s easy. I got your message about Hope leaving, and thought I should drop by and see how you were doing,” replied Bryce.
Bryce Royal was Camille’s cousin.
Royal as in the international Royal family. Billionaires who owned everything from hotel chains to cruise liners, and pretty much everything in between. They came from a world he could barely imagine.
Ryan was in awe of both of them. He’d met two members of the Royal family in one day.
He’d studied Bryce Royal at college, writing up a case study paper on Royal Resorts UK and their new resort build which had cleverly encompassed the ruins of an old Roman villa. The hotel in central England had won a slew of major architectural awards.
And Bryce is an investor in her design business. I wish I had a cousin who had a couple of hundred thousand dollars to invest in my project.
If getting fired this morning hadn’t made him feel like a complete loser, finding himself in the presence of two people who were wildly successful in their careers would have certainly done the trick.
Oblivious to his inner turmoil, a smiling Camille pointed to the large computer monitor which sat on her desk. “I’m doing great since Ryan began helping me with Hope’s spreadsheet. He’s made more sense of it in less than an hour than I did in four.”
Bryce’s eyebrows lifted. “That’s great news. Speaking of Hope, I did check with our IT team and all of her access to your systems has been cut off.”
He turned to Ryan. “You look like a guy who knows his way around a computer. You wouldn’t happen to be in the market for a job, would you, Mister Collins?”
How does beyond desperate for paid employment sound?
“Um. I could be,” replied Ryan.
Camille pointed at the computer monitor once more. “I don’t even know what you normally do for a job, but if you were looking for a short-term gig, say three to four months. I could seriously do with some help running things up to and including fashion week in mid-September. I’d pay you well.”
A well paid job that didn’t involve making coffee or dealing with demanding hotel guests. Could his luck be finally changing?
Please. Please universe, cut me a serious break.
If he worked with Camille, it would solve his short term money problems. And also give him a bit of a breather. Time he could use to have a long think about what he wanted for the future. A future which didn’t involve just making ends meet.
Take a chance Ryan. You have nothing to lose.
He met Camille’s gaze. It was time to be as honest as he could with her, then let Camille decide if he was still worth considering as a temporary employee.
“I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going this morning as my boss had just fired me. He wanted me to find a career away from working as a barista. I’d just hung up from telling my brother about it when I met your pile of fabrics.”
If she was in a bind needing a PA, and he was in a bind needing a job, maybe this could work. Short term gig. Problem solved. Everyone happy. But he had no experience in the fashion industry.
“Do you have a resume? Or what is it you Americans call them? Oh, a CV,” asked Camille.
Ryan nodded. “I could get mine updated and sent over to you later today. I might not know much about the fashion industry, but I work hard, and I learn fast. I have some referees from when I worked at the Marriott Hotel in Times Square who will vouch for me.”
Bryce Royal’s eyes lit up. “The Marriott is a good hotel. Very busy. How long did you work there?”
“Two and a half years. I worked in the concierge team, and then on the front desk for a short time.”
“What made you leave?” asked Bryce.
That his brother had pushed him into auditioning for a reality dating show which he’d been chosen for, but hadn’t won—wasn’t exactly the sort of thing a guy put on his CV.
The truth was he’d left the Marriott for the same reason he’d left other jobs over the years. He’d wanted more. Wanted a chance to prove himself. To feel like he’d actually done something with his life.
“It’s hard to move up the ladder when you don’t have a college degree. The big hotels are great training grounds but the only way into the management programs is through college affiliations. I have two years of a bachelor’s degree, but I couldn’t afford to stay and complete it.”
He watched Bryce’s expression, waiting for the moment when it changed to one of bland disinterest. Ryan could read most people, and in this city, he was certain that even the garbage collection men had finished college.
Everyone has some sort of qualification. All except me.
A thirty hour barista training certificate didn’t hold much weight in a city where at last count there were some 3,700 coffee shops.
Ryan caught himself before he started any more negative self-talk. He comfortably held Bryce’s gaze, but he also quietly held his breath.
Bryce cleared his throat. “A degree isn’t everything. I didn’t finish college. In fact I made sure I failed my first semester, so my father wouldn’t send me back. Most of my early career learning was on the job.”
Hope stirred within Ryan. From his own college studies, he knew Bryce Royal hadn’t completely abandoned his education, he’d gone on to attain a master’s degree. But it was encouraging to know that the CEO of Royal Resorts didn’t consider a piece of paper vital for getting a start.
“I work hard, and I care about getting the job done. Anything I can do to make your show at Fashion Week a success, I’m all in,” said Ryan, turning to address his remarks directly to Camille. Bryce might be the money behind the fashion brand, but it was Camille Royal where the talent and day to day decision making lay.
She nodded her agreement. “If you can get something over to the both of us later today, that would be great. In the meantime Bryce and I can check on your background. And we can take things from there.”
“If you are able to finish writing up detailed notes on the spreadsheet, then I’ll consider that as being your job interview.”
“That sounds perfect to me,” replied Ryan. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught the optimistic grin which Camille offered her cousin. Bryce returned it.
Ryan left Camille’s apartment an hour later. A bubble of excitement danced in his belly as he headed straight for the nearest subway station. The second he got back to the apartment in East Orange he’d get his CV up to date, and send it through to them. His references were solid, and despite having been let go so unceremoniously earlier this morning, he knew he could count on Simon to put in a good word for him if either Bryce or Camille called Java Junction.
Once he’d sent his personal details through, he’d get on the web and do as much research on New York Fashion Week as he possibly could. There had to be more to it than just models dressed in fancy clothes walking up and down a long runway.
And who knows. Maybe if I do a solid enough job for Camille and help make fashion week a success for her, it could open some doors with Bryce Royal and his company.
Seated on the train, Ryan pulled out his brand new phone, and called Liam. If the universe had finally decided to give him a chance, Ryan Collins wasn’t going to waste a second in going after it.
“Hey”, he said, when his brother answered. “Don’t worry about the case of beer— hopefully I won’t be needing it.”