Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 80052 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 400(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80052 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 400(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
I remember standing in the lobby waiting for her the first day she arrived at Siesta Playa. It wasn’t shaking out to be the best morning. I was annoyed because one of the golf pros just quit on us, and we were expecting a VIP guest who’d specifically requested private lessons with that golf pro. It was a shit show, and we were working around the clock trying to find a replacement, and fast. I didn’t have time to wait on new hires, but it’s hotel policy. So there I was, checking my watch, clearing my throat, adjusting my tie, ticking seconds off in my head, when Paige stumbled out of the turnstile door and graced me with her presence for the very first time.
I don’t remember our conversation from that day; I was so flustered by her.
I still am, unfortunately.
Growing up with ol’ Sue and Pat didn’t equip me with stellar people skills. I’m good with numbers, computers, inanimate objects. Sometimes I worry I have robot DNA, too, but then I look at Paige and I know for certain I’m flesh and blood, capable of feeling everything all at once whenever she walks into a room.
I see how effortlessly other people flirt and carry on, and I’m envious. It just doesn’t come naturally to me. I want to be that way with Paige, but I know I’d make a mockery of myself. If I tried a pickup line on her, she’d burst out laughing and ask me if I’m feeling okay. Maybe at the beginning, before we tangled ourselves into this complicated mess, I could have been honest with her. I could have put myself out there and asked her on a date, plain and simple. Now, it just seems too late for simple. I can’t get out of my own way. I have every intention of befriending her, of trying a smile on for size, but the biting banter is our autopilot. The barbs are all we know.
We’re stuck.
It’s the day after bingo night. Things are going well this week with the Nifty after Sixty crowd. The water-aerobics classes have been a big hit; last night, the late-night karaoke extended an hour later than usual to accommodate the line out the door (“Do you guys happen to have anything by the Who?”); and Dr. Missick has only had to send for an emergency medical helicopter once, and that was because of a fluke shrimp-cocktail choking incident. It could have happened to anyone at any age.
I’ve already been at work for hours. I’ve cleared my email inbox, checked in on reception, gone through the excursion schedule for the day, inspected the lobby and the lobby bathrooms to ensure they’re clean and orderly.
The next item on my to-do list: check in on the lunch buffet. Walk through the tables; hold up stemware to the light to inspect it for fingerprints; make sure the French pastries are arranged in sharp lines, each croissant tilted exactly forty-five degrees left from center. I have exacting taste. I’m aware of that.
“Looks great,” I tell Marcus, the head chef of our resort’s main restaurant, the Bistro.
He nods in appreciation. He and I understand each other. I might be two decades younger than him, a novice for certain, but we share the same principles and values. We want the same thing. Unlike Todd. Todd spends most of his time holed up in his office, gambling online. He only ever bothers to observe the daily operations of the resort—to do his job—when Scott Durliat is on site. I once heard Marcus refer to Todd as “that obscene blob,” and now I call him that in my head too.
After I leave the restaurant, I walk through the main lobby, en route to the grotto under the guise of checking inventory, when really I want to size up Blaze, get a feel for the guy Paige seems so interested in. I get sidetracked, though.
Near the excursion desk, Paige stands chatting with an older male guest in a cowboy hat. He’s sloshing around a half-finished piña colada. From Paige’s tight smile, I have no doubt he’s already been chatting her ear off for long minutes, and I could save her . . . it would be the nice thing to do.
“Paige, aren’t you supposed to be at your yoga class right now? Run along, you!”
Paige sees me, and her eyes widen with a plea. Get me out of here!
I give her a smile and two hearty thumbs up. “You’re doing a great job,” I mouth.
Her expression says she has murder on her mind.
During this exchange, I make the mistake of veering too close to them. Mr. Cowboy Hat sees me and jumps at the opportunity to get another employee on his hook.
“Ah, just the man I was hoping to see!” He stops me by grabbing ahold of my biceps and tugging me even closer. I don’t have to comply. He’s not that strong, but I have every reason to ingratiate myself to our guests. “I need to put in a good word for this little lady right here. Whatever you’re paying her, double it! She really goes above and beyond. I tell you, the missus and I had our heart set on snorkeling, but the hotel’s preplanned excursion was a little above our skill level. We’re novices here, and Ms. Young, she didn’t mind one bit. Told us to meet her back down at the beach an hour later, and she took us on a little trip of our own, just like that. Best experience of my vacation so far. Saw myself a barracuda!”