Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 77485 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 387(@200wpm)___ 310(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77485 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 387(@200wpm)___ 310(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
But all that aside, this job wasn’t terrible. We were given some pretty decent perks. Complimentary meals were provided from some of the attached restaurants we’d never be able to afford otherwise, and there was a set period during the off season that granted us free stays as long as we had perfect attendance.
More important than the benefits, the bills at our apartment were mostly all paid up. The same couldn’t have been said a little less than a year ago. Back then we’d been on a strict ramen budget, struggling to keep a roof over our heads and the lights on.
“What are we doing this weekend?”
I glanced over at her. “Unless it involves long walks from my bed to the couch or kitchen, I’m doing absolutely nothing.”
“Oh, come on Lo! You never go out with me anymore.”
“Going out with you always adds a flair of drama or douchebag to my life that I have no patience for.”
Her brow knitted as if she was confused. I was glad the elevator doors chose then to slide open and let us out. We pushed our trollies to their designated area. Halfway there we were forced to stop and move aside for a man pushing a satin covered cart down one of the private lower halls. I caught the tail end of a conversation from the walkie on his hip as he passed.
“What’s the deal with this Bacchus Trade Show?”
Anya shot me a look, her dark brows rising in disbelief. “Sometimes I wonder if you live in the same world that I do.”
I slid my trolley into its numbered spot and waited for her before walking towards the break room. “Hey, I knew it was coming, just not what a huge deal it apparently is.”
“That’s subjective. Some would say it’s not the show but who will be in attendance that makes it such a huge ordeal.”
“Oh. Well, that explains why the resort is so booked up then.”
“Yeah, there’s going to be some important people coming in. I’m surprised they didn’t hold a staff meeting just to brief us. I guess that would have exposed too much.”
“Maybe, but I’m more interested in the show.”
“Of course you are,” she replied with a dramatic sigh. “It’s an auction or something for rare items. I’m not sure what yet, but if the rumors flying around are anything to go by, this event is ultra-exclusive, so I’ll probably have a hard time finding out.”
She undid the top button of her uniform to show off more of her perfectly rounded cleavage. One of her signature thirst traps.
I hated it when she did this, but I’d gotten so accustomed to her antics that I knew better than to waste my breath with reprimand.
“And?” I urged her to continue.
“I heard it costs a fortune just to step foot inside the room unless you’re a member of some elite group. Based on the usual people who stay here, I envision a bunch of old dudes stuffed in suits with hella rings on their fingers and smoking fat-ass cigars.”
I laughed softly. “I think you’ve got an overactive imagination.”
“Tell me you don’t consider half the guys in the rooms we service high-class sugar daddy material.”
I wrinkled my nose at the visual that created. “Can you not refer to this as servicing ever again? You just made us sound like private escorts.”
“Hmm.” She brought a finger to her dimpled chin and pretended to consider that idea.
Actually, there was a slight possibility she wasn’t pretending. With Anya it was sometimes hard to tell. I gently shoved her shoulder as we ducked into the staff room where our lockers were.
“Anya, I was joking.”
“I didn’t say anything!”
“You didn’t need to. Sometimes you’re an open book. And anyways, there have been more than a few nice-looking, younger guys staying here that clearly had money.”
“You mean those arrogant assholes with authorized credit cards? I would never stoop that low.”
“Um, you’ve literally stooped lower.”
She gasped dramatically. “Lolita!”
I shot her an apologetic smile, not entirely sorry at all.
“Let’s just agree that the kind of rich men we’d be into only exist on the other side of a screen or within fiction, making them statistically unobtainable. They either live billions of miles away or don’t exist.”
I just barely stopped myself from questioning this we she was referring to. That would open the door to a whole different kind of conversation.
“Have you forgotten the men who own this resort, technically our bosses’ bosses? What about all their friends?”
“They don’t count. They’ve all got wives that they’re shockingly devoted to.”
“So?”
“I don’t want to split custody of dick, sharing the holidays and weekends. I need commitment.”
Lord, help her. “How did we go from talking about their looks to you screwing them? And when did this change of opinion come about?”
“I had an epiphany about the scandal that would break out if a man like that got caught balls deep in the help.”