Is the moon full? What has my phone ringing all night long? “What can I do for you, Michael?”
“We have a problem. There was a leak in a bathroom on the eighth floor of the East Tower, and it has affected the three bathrooms below it.”
“Do we know what happened?”
“From what we’ve pieced together, on the way to dinner and the Cirque show tonight, someone threw a leather jacket over the side of the bathtub and it was heavy enough that it started the water—not rushing, of course, but a steady stream—and part of the jacket blocked the drain. After running for what we estimate was about six hours, it overflowed and leaked down the interior walls. The three rooms below will require major repairs.”
I sit up and with my elbows on my knees rub my hand over my face, feeling the two-day-old beard. You’ve got to be shitting me.
I take a few deep breaths to calm myself. The occupant of the room will be liable, but chances are they can’t afford what sounds like a fifty-thousand-dollar renovation.
“Okay, what’s your plan?”
“Well, sir, we’re sold out, but we need to vacate those rooms.”
“Do we know who’s in them? Are they whales or guests at an event or conference? Any type of VIP?”
“Not that we know of.”
“Check with Gillian. Make sure none of the guests are hers. We have a few of the big suites available for VIP walk-ins, if we need those. I’d rather find them a room here than with a competitor.”
“We’ll move the guests to the hotel next door only if we have to, “ he confirms.
We certainly would never want to turn someone away without a back-up plan—we make the least amount of money on our rooms. It’s the shows, restaurants, and gambling that bring in the most, and if people stay at other hotels, they spend their money there.
“Okay. Talk to Gillian to see if she can work out use of the suites to accommodate us.” As my brain spins with how to manage four rooms, I add, “Let’s make sure we compensate those who have to move, particularly if they have to stay across the street. I want them to get VIP tickets to Queen’s show, and comp dinners at any restaurant in the hotel. Make sure we apologize profusely, and see if you can’t get them set up for another stay.”
“No problem. I’ll work with Gillian to get that taken care of. Sorry to disturb you.”
I sigh. I can’t go to sleep now. I’m past the point of exhaustion. I’ve been up for more than twenty hours, and my brain is beyond the point of rest. Who needs sleep anyway?
I pour myself another bourbon and turn the TV on. My mind now runs a circuit from Maggie, to the woman who stopped me when I got back, to all the people we’re displacing, to the long list of things I need to get done. I can’t even follow the movie I picked.
I move to my bedroom and lie down. I don’t close the drapes so I can look out across the desert. I wonder what Maggie’s doing. Probably like everyone else, she’s sleeping. I can’t sleep.
As I debate coffee or a shower, my phone chirps again. It’s Lilly, the head of HR. What’s she doing calling me at three-thirty in the morning? She only calls when something isn’t good.
I walk over to my espresso machine and answer the call. “What’s up, Lilly?”
“The police are down here with me and security in the sportsbook—”
“Is this the issue about the missing jewelry pouch and the boyfriend?” I interject.
“Nooo, but it sounds like you’re having an interesting night,” she says.
“You have no idea.”
“We had a drunk patron fondle one of our cocktail waitresses,” she tells me.
I look to the stars. The moon must be full.
“Anyway, she’s really upset,” Lilly continues. “He tweaked her nipple pretty hard.”
The hair on the back of my neck stands up. Who does this ass think he is?
“I can be right down.” I start looking for my pants. It wouldn’t do for me to show up in my boxer shorts.
“Hold on. I don’t think that’s necessary. She didn’t take too kindly to being touched, so she clocked him.”
Good for her. I’m impressed.
“He claims she chipped his tooth,” Lilly adds. “There’s blood everywhere, and he probably has a broken nose.”
I roll my eyes. Rather than own it, he’s blaming her.
“He’s talking about pressing charges.”
Are you fucking kidding me? I shake my head in disbelief.
“They’ve called an ambulance.”
“What are the police saying?”
“Officially, they may have to arrest her. Unofficially, he got what he deserved.”
“If it went down as you say, we’ll have it on video, and we’ll cover her legal fees. See if you can grab Gillian. She’s around, dealing with an issue where four guest rooms have been damaged. Ask her if she can get this figured out, too. She’s good with this kind of thing. If we can avoid our employee getting arrested, let’s give her the rest of her shift off with pay. Apologize to her, and let’s have security get the footage of the event over to the police tonight.”
“Great. I’ll work on that. Sorry to bother you. You sound exhausted.”
“I am. But I’ll rally.”
My espresso is ready, and I take my first sip. The caffeine hits my blood, and I feel more ready to charge on.
“You should get some sleep, and I’ll have a report for you by the time you wake up.”
“Thanks, Lilly.”
Sleep? That would be nice. Maybe if I worked out, the exhaustion would help me sleep. I walk into my home gym to run on the treadmill and lift a few weights, yet my brain bounces from one thing to another.
I decide I’d better get into the shower before my phone rings again. When the warm water hits me, the tension in my shoulders relaxes, and my eyelids become heavy. Maybe I will finally be able to sleep.
Drying off, I move to my bedroom, but as I hit the black-out blinds, my phone chirps. It’s six o’clock in the morning, and it’s Queen Diva this time. Almost anyone else I’d let roll to voice mail, but this I need to answer.
“Hello, Miss Queen. How was the show last night?”
“You were out of the hotel last night.” It’s not a question but a statement. “Do you know how I know?”
I chuckle. “I went to Minneapolis to see my parents. How did you know?”
“You know that saying ‘When the cat’s away, the mice will play?’ I swear to God, this place is not as tight a ship when you’re not here.”
“I’m not sure if that’s a compliment or not. How was your show? Did everything go okay?”
“Last night went well, if you don’t mind that my forty-two-carat amethyst ring is missing.”
“You’ve got to be joking? How is that possible?” I sit up straight and try to make sure all my synapses are connecting properly. “When was the last time you saw it?”
“I wore it with the second dress, and when I changed, I left it in the box on my dressing table, as I do every night. When I went to put it on with the fourth dress, it was missing. We’ve checked the dressing room from top to bottom. It’s gone.”
“Have you notified Travis in security?”
“Yes, and the police will be by later today after I get some sleep.”
Sleep. I crave sleep.
“I’ll try to be there.”
“Jonathan, you’ve got to talk to Travis in security. If his team can’t catch the thief, we may have some really tough conversations coming in our future.”
We have a feeling we know who is behind the thefts, and if he thinks this is a way to renegotiate her contract with the hotel, I love her, but this isn’t going to go well.
“Travis and I will be there when the police come to speak with you later today,” I assure her. “We’ll have a plan for you.”
“I’m counting on you. I can’t perform if we can’t get this figured out. I may have to break my contract because I’m losing money.”
Rubbing my
hands over my face, I know that isn’t true. I sign her checks each month, and she’s fine. She makes a healthy percentage of each seat at her sold out performances.
I stay on the line with her for a few more minutes so she can feel like she’s being heard. Once I extricate myself from her call, I dial Travis.
“I just spoke to Queen Diva about her ring,” I tell him when he answers.
“Sorry, it’s been a hectic night. I should have called you about that. We’ve had a few issues in the last twenty-four hours.”
“I’m guessing there are other things I need to know about?”
“Well, you know the major ones, and the others aren’t pressing. The police will be here to meet with Queen at seven tonight, just before her show. If you want to meet about four or five, my team will have gone through the tape of all these different issues, and we’ll be ready to update you, as well as prepare for our meeting with the police.”
I agree and hang up.
I’m giving myself eight hours to shut down and block everything out. I call the front desk and put a do not disturb on my landlines, and I turn the ringer off on my cell phone. If it’s an emergency, they can knock on my door. But it had better be an emergency, because I’m going to crash.
I eventually fall asleep, but when I wake up six hours later, I don’t feel rested. My sleep was restless and active and not particularly helpful. I keep thinking of Maggie and the conversation we had—or didn’t have. And I’m bothered by the bathrooms, the missing boyfriend, and the fact that my Queen Diva thief has moved from ten-thousand-dollar dresses to twenty-thousand-dollar rings.
I still need a whole lot more sleep, but instead, it’s time to face the day—or the evening, at least. To ease into things, I leave my phones on do not disturb, check to make sure there haven’t been any additional fires, and then head back to my gym.
I don’t believe Queen is correct when she says the hotel is a well-oiled machine only when I’m here. Last night was an anomaly, and she has a problem all her own that we need to figure out.
When I pick up my phone after showering, I see a text message from Maggie. It actually came in a while ago. She’s sorry.
I am, too, and I want so much to tell her that, but I can’t. I’m not going to be able to do this on my own, and I don’t want to make it any worse. Instead, I think I finally have some clarity. I need to come clean with Christopher and recruit his help. No matter what hell is breaking loose here, this is important. I’m going to go see him in San Francisco.
Me: Hey. What do you have going for dinner tomorrow night?
Christopher: Bella has class and is working late and I was figuring on doing the same.
Me: How about I fly in and find you? We can grab dinner at some trendy spot or a sports bar. You’re buying, so make sure it’s expensive.
Christopher: You’re on, dude. What’s going on?
Me: I need to talk. I need an impartial ear.
Christopher: Great. 7 o’clock tomorrow night. I’ll find a cheap spot with warm beer for you to cry in.
Me: Loser. See you then.
Now that I know my plan, I feel like I can make this work, despite the chaos surrounding me.
I think back to last fall when Maggie and I were together. After Christopher and Bella’s ceremony, I’d walked her back to my apartment, which the designer hadn’t even finished decorating. We were buzzing with excitement. I poured her three fingers of bourbon and sat close to her on the couch.. The room was full of electricity.
Just when I thought it was never going to happen, she turned to me and kissed me. And it wasn’t slow and soft, but urgent and full of lust. Every ounce of blood in my body went straight to my cock.
Then she pulled away. “Are you okay with this?”
I was much more than okay, though I think I just nodded, rather than actually saying something that would have helped her understand my feelings. Nevertheless, we made love three times that night. That it was incredible only cemented that we were made for each other. How I wish I’d had the guts to tell her as much way back then. Who knows where we might be now.
Chapter 14
Jonathan
A little while later, I’m dressed, and as rested as I can get. I’ve worked out, snacked on leftover Chinese, and caught up on my sports teams. It’s time to tackle what’s left of my day.
Caden meets me outside my door, and I walk with him down to see Travis in Security.
“All right, Travis, what the hell happened last night, and what did you learn over the last twelve hours?” I ask when we arrive.
“Let’s start with the easy part.” He gestures to a guy sitting behind a computer. “This is Kevin.”
“Thanks for your help, Kevin.”
Travis points to the closest fifty-inch screen, and the feed from the bar comes up. It’s high-resolution digital and they’ve pieced together multiple angles. We watch a customer enter, not real steady on his feet, and take a seat at a perimeter table. He seems to talk to women as they pass, but they don’t appear to respond.
Karen, the server, arrives, and it looks like she takes his order.
“Can we pull the audio?” I ask.
“We’re working on that,” Travis says. “The guys are trying to clean it up some.”
That makes sense. We don’t record a lot of audio, but we do have devices set up in certain areas. Mostly they just seem to pick up a lot of background noise.
We see Karen stop at several other tables and then put an order in. Everything is going as it should. Now her tray is full of drinks, and she begins to deliver them.
The drinks she places in front of wobbly man is clear, on ice, and has a lime wedge.
“Did you see that?” Travis asks.
I shake my head. “Can you please play it back slowly, Kevin?”
Kevin rewinds the feed to where she walks up to the table and plays it in slow motion.
“Watch his right hand at the back of her leg,” Travis says. “He slides it up and tries to slip it underneath her skirt.”
I see the same thing, and I don’t like it. “It’s subtle, but she brushes it away,” I note.
“She’s graceful about it, which is a sign that this happens often,” Travis says.
“I’ll meet with the head of food and beverage and make sure we do some training on how to address this. No one should have to work that way.”
We continue watching Karen help other patrons. She’s happy, smiling, and seems courteous. A large group of young guys come in, and she cards them and scoots them along.
“How long until she clocks him?” I ask.
“It’s coming up,” Kevin says. “It’s at the twenty-three-minute mark.”
We’re at twenty-one minutes when the man drains his drink and motions Karen over. There’s talking between the two. His hands are wandering, and she keeps shaking her head.
“We need to get the audio,” I say through clenched teeth.
“Agreed, and we’ll get it transcribed so the video and audio match. But just wait. It gets better,” Travis warns.
“I know she slugs him,” I say.
Her tray is full, and she delivers drinks around the bar. When she comes back to his table, she leans over to put the drink down, and we watch him reach right into her top. You can tell she’s startled, and she dumps the remaining drinks in his lap. He immediately stands and grabs her by the hair as his hand disappears down the front of her uniform.
“Holy shit,” I say. We watch her nail him with a right hook.
He tumbles like a ragdoll and hits the table.
I shake my head. “Well, it appears to be a clear case of defending herself.”
We watch the interaction a few more times in slow motion, double speed, and normal speed. It looks terrible every time.
“He was definitely the aggressor, but why didn’t she follow protocol and call security when he sat down? He was obviously drunk. Why did she serve him?” I ask. “We need to pull his drink orders, too.”
/> “I have that somewhere,” Travis searches through a pile of paper. “Here it is. The first was a gin and tonic, and the second was just tonic. So it appears she was addressing his drink situation.”
“That’s good. But I still want to know why she didn’t follow protocol. And it’d be great to get the audio ASAP,” I tell him.
“Agreed,” Travis says. “Okay, now for the missing boyfriend. It’s not as climactic.”
“That’s good,” I mumble, rubbing my hand over my face. Assault, theft, and kidnapping in the same evening is not a good night.
Kevin pulls up the new feed. “The boyfriend is playing blackjack in the third spot. He’s having a good night with Tom Carpenter, the dealer at table forty-two.”
We watch as the evening pit boss, Vincent, changes Tom out for a break.
“This is when his winning streak seems to falter,” Travis says.
The man stands up and changes to a table where the bid increases to forty dollars.
“This is just bad luck,” Travis notes.
The dealer wins two hands in a row.
“Tough for the players,” I lament.
“Exactly, but it happens. You can see he runs out of chips.” The feed shows him leaving the table and crossing to the ATM, but he doesn’t seem to get any money from it. Either he’s over his daily limit, or he doesn’t have any to withdraw. He walks out of the casino, stops and looks back, and then walks to the elevator.
“Does he think someone is following him?” I ask.
“I don’t think so. I think he’s looking at all the activity and still wanting to participate. You’ll see why I say that in just a few minutes.”
Kevin fast-forwards, and the feed picks him up exiting the elevator alone on his floor. No one else is present. He lets himself into his room with a thumbprint.
“It’s nine thirty-seven p.m., and he walks out at ten-oh-three,” Kevin says. “No one comes after he leaves.”
He zooms in on what the man is holding, and it’s a pouch like his girlfriend described.
House of Cards (Tech Billionaires) Page 11