Chapter 2
Penelope
“Don’t forget, baby girl, that you can do anything you set your mind to.”
“Oh, Daddy. Don’t leave me.”
With tears in his eyes, he managed to squeeze my hand.
The once powerful man now appeared weak.
He’d been my rock, my champion. My mother and father.
He’d been the one to tend to my wounds after I fell off my bike.
He’d read to me, including the same ridiculous story I’d loved so much any time I asked.
He’d schooled me on taking care of myself.
How to balance a checkbook and how to add air to my tires.
When I’d been older, he’d insisted I knew how to change a flat.
And he’d schooled me on boys, never backing down that boys didn’t become men until in their thirties and that most men could never be trusted.
“Oh, my little shiny Penny, I would give anything to stay with you.” As he coughed, I squeezed his hand harder.
If only I could provide a tether between us that wouldn’t allow him to leave. “I love you.”
“Ah, honey.” His whisper was hoarse, soon to be inaudible. As he wiped a tear away, all the years we’d shared came crashing down. “Just remember, when one door closes, another will open. And I know you. You’ll push your way through. You’re just like your mother. And so beautiful.”
When one door closed, another opened.
It had been a motto I’d tried to live by. Even after eleven years, the pain could hit me at the strangest times, the despair almost overwhelming.
Why today was beyond me other than the reality of losing my job had finally begun to hit home.
“If you don’t help me, I will kill myself.
I have a sharp knife ready to drive into my jugular vein.
Plus, I’m ready to jump off the bridge. But in the meantime, the pills will soon kick in.
I’ll face an agonizing death from asphyxiation, but the pain will be less traumatic than dealing with an angry mob. ”
With my eyes closed, I reached for my coffee and realized the cup was empty. It was still early in Louisville so I couldn’t imagine what time it was in Anita’s part of the world. My brain was so foggy, I couldn’t remember where she’d moved to. Montana or Wyoming. Maybe Texas.
For whatever reason, the ugly memory had created a crater in my heart. Maybe because I’d finally decided to give up searching for another hospitality position, determined to concentrate on the little side job I’d created for myself, hoping to turn it into something more tangible.
And capable of paying at least some of the bills.
At this point, I couldn’t get a job cleaning rooms in a hotel. Whatever lies had been told about me had been successful. Just last night, I’d decided to turn my back on the industry forever. Now I was being asked to use my expertise to help a friend.
What would my father have told me?
Maybe another door was about to open.
“I’m no expert on suicide,” I told her as I trudged into the kitchen, the coffee monster calling my name.
Cof-fee. Cof-fee…
“But I think one method will likely be enough. Although my guess is you’ll chicken out before the tip of the blade is driven into your skin. Very messy and talk about painful.” I fought hard to keep from laughing. And people had told me I was dramatic.
“I’m serious!” Hearing her shrill cry, I pulled the phone away from my ear.
“Okay, what is going on?” Open cabinet, pull out flavored coffee. Yes, the timer on the Keurig machine had worked for a change. I’d been ready to pound it with a sledgehammer.
“You remember the huge and I do mean huge romance book conference I’m half in charge of?”
“Vaguely.” I was lucky I could remember my own name. Open lid on Keurig machine and pop a pod in. Hit go. There, my big accomplishment for the day.
“In San Diego at the incredibly gorgeous Tempest Grand I booked almost two years ago? We have somewhere in the neighborhood of twenty-five hundred people coming with a wait list of hundreds? And that’s happening in five days.
Five. Days! There can’t be any hiccups. My reputation is on the line.
What am I saying? Romance readers are ravenous beasts.
They’ll hunt me down like a raw filet on a stick. ”
Oh, yes. How could I forget? She’d peppered me with questions about the hotel while booking the event. While I was still gainfully employed. Visions of the redhead being chased by crazed women with spears would burn a hole in the back of my mind. “I remember, girl. What about it?”
“What about it?” Her screech was even louder. “Now, they’re saying they can’t accommodate all the events already planned or the number of guests. Are you fucking kidding me? It’s next week. I’m having a heart attack. Call 9-1-1.”
Anita Wray was a sweet girl, which was why she should never have tried to undertake a convention of this magnitude. She should have left the job to the experts. Namely, bitches in heels. I qualified, which was why she’d called me.
“First of all, calm the fuck down. Second, you do have a contract. Right? Please tell me that you do.”
“Yes. Yes! That’s what makes me crazy, but they’re giving me the runaround. What do I do? You have a background in this shit. Not me.”
Had was more like it. I would still have a great job in the hospitality industry were it not for my piece of shit ex who’d decided when we’d broken up to have my boss fire me on the spot. Not only that, for kicks and giggles, he’d decided to take his hatred a notch further by having me blacklisted.
I’d caught him in the act of betrayal and he’d acted as if he owned me and that he couldn’t believe I would walk away. Did he think he was all that and a bag of Doritos? Evidently so.
Thankfully, after three further rude texts, he’d stopped bothering. That didn’t mean he hadn’t continued to ruin my professional career.
That was why I was on pins and needles, thankful that when I’d had a six-figure salary I’d saved some money. Or my ass and my beloved Keurig machine would be out on the street.
“Okay. Then they must adhere to the contract.” I tried to convey confidence.
“They’re saying something about the final payment not being received, which is wrong. I have all the bank information. But they booked some of our rooms. Can you fucking believe that?”
She was close to becoming hysterical.
“Sadly, I can. What can I do?”
“You must know some people who can help.” I had a YouTube channel to set up and a half dozen posts to make.
Plus, there was something horribly wrong with the way I’d set up my affiliate links and God knows you didn’t want to piss off .
They didn’t play fair or nice when they had any inkling you were a scammer.
Arguing with a computer-generated bot was certainly not on the day’s agenda. However, neither was someone begging for help from a thousand miles away.
On top of that I had a damn internet troll. Maybe I should feel as if I’d ‘arrived’ in my fledgling business.
“In California? I doubt it.” My snort was entirely too judgmental, but my excuse would remain lack of coffee.
“Pretty please?”
I laughed evilly. “What’s in it for me?” I was teasing her, but I should have known she would take me seriously.
“A table at the conference. You can take one of the suites already booked at the hotel for people working on the convention and since I travel so much, I have frequent flyer miles. I’ll toss in round trip air fare. I’ll even spring for first class. This cannot fail.”
Wow. She was close to desperation. I had to admit the offer was tempting.
Since being fired unexpectedly, I’d been provided with plenty of time to get my tiny business up and running: a romance book influencer and social media director.
Some might call me a bookstagrammer, but I was so much more.
Romance on the Go. I thought the name was catchy. Too bad few people did at this point.
A romance book convention.
Why hadn’t I thought of that? Because my hobby of a few months hadn’t been intended to turn into a business, but here I was, grasping at straws.
“Oh, please,” Anita moaned. “I’m dying here.”
“Alright. You have yourself a deal, but I won’t make any promises. Send me a copy of the contract and the name and contact information of the people you talked to along with everything you have on the conference and the expectations of the use of their hotel.”
“Already done. You’re the best. I can’t wait to see you. As soon as you confirm we’re set, I’ll make all the travel arrangements, so you won’t need to worry about a thing.”
There was nothing like having something held over your head.
Anita’s email had been primed and ready by the time I’d sat down at my computer.
If what she’d said was true, I suspected the real problem was that the hotel had overbooked with another conference, which meant ballrooms were prime real estate.
Perhaps they were even running short on the block of rooms promised.
Another cup of coffee and I settled into familiarizing myself with the amenities as well as going over every line in the contract. Payment had been made, although a day late. In most situations regarding such a significant contract, there was some leniency regarding payment deadlines.
This was a classic example of being pushed by another party at the hotel or by someone in one of the executive suites. When I finally felt versed in the information so I wouldn’t make a fool of myself, I checked the name of the person she’d been speaking with.
Well, well. It would seem luck was on Anita’s side.
Jordan White.
We’d been on opposite sides of a marketing campaign a couple of years before. He was smart, but I was cunning.
I knew him marginally well, enough to know all his weaknesses. And yes, I intended on using them.
After checking the time, I smiled. It was just past eight on a Monday morning in California. Dealing with me would be much better than a strong cup of coffee for the man. Even though I was in shorts and a tee shirt, I flipped my hair back, pretending I was dressed in a Christian Dior suit.