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)
Paige has been watching me through this entire speech with a little gloating smile in place. Her blue eyes spark with mischief.
“You keep your hotel staffed with people like Ms. Young and we’ll be coming back here year after year,” he promises in a thunderous voice. “She’s great, isn’t she?”
I’m looking at Paige now, smiling for the guest’s benefit.
“Absolutely. We really value staff members like Paige here at Siesta Playa.”
The guy gives Paige a wink, and then he has to peel off quick when he sees his wife is beelining for the hotel gift shop. “Now, Bernice, I know you had your eye on that pot warmer, but I told you we’ve already bought enough souvenirs this trip . . .”
Now that we’re alone, we could both back away slowly. Instead, Paige and I each take a step toward each other. Somewhere over our heads, a dangling race car light blinks red . . . red . . . green. She tilts her head back and looks at me like she wants to play.
“Say it again. Say I’m great.”
“You’re great,” I repeat blandly.
“C’mon, where’s the conviction? I want to feel it.”
“You’re one of a kind,” I say, just as dry.
She snaps her fingers like she’s just had a brilliant idea. “You know what? Maybe you should nominate me for employee of the month?!” She says it like she’s a total genius for thinking of it.
My stomach plummets as reality sinks in.
If only she knew the truth of what’s really happening behind the scenes. She’s nowhere near getting awarded employee of the month. In fact, if Todd had it his way, she’d be packing her bags at this very moment. It makes me sick thinking about it. This problem with Todd consumes me day and night. Ever since our meeting earlier this week, I’ve been checking numbers, doing my due diligence, formulating a plan, a way that gets me, us, everything we want.
But the clock’s ticking, and I’m still waiting on those damn expense reports. Worse, Todd fired the clown today. Which, honestly, big whoop, but now I know he’s serious about what he told me. He’s really going through with this shitty plan. Fine, whatever, he can get rid of a few employees—the ones who deserve the boot, anyway—but he’s not firing Paige. Over my dead body.
“You’re being quiet.” Her eyes narrow. “Are you sick?”
“I don’t get sick.”
She thunks her forehead. “Of course not, duh. How could I forget that you’re not susceptible to things like the common cold? No getting sick like the rest of us schmucks. Be honest, have you ever taken a day off in all the time you’ve worked here?”
Sure. “Once a year, I go to all my doctor’s appointments on the same day.”
She shakes her head like she can’t believe it. “Wild. I have so many questions about the way you live. Are you a side sleeper?”
“Back.”
“How do you take your coffee?” She slashes her hand through the air and steps closer. “Wait, I already know that. What’s your favorite meal?” She starts talking faster, excited. “No! Wait, it’s steak. I know that too. Damn it! I change my question! Where do you take girls on first dates?! That’s what I want to know.”
She’s nearly panting with exertion by the time she finally pauses long enough for me to answer.
“You are so weird.”
I say it like it’s a compliment because it is.
She laces her fingers together in desperation. “Please tell me. The morgue!” she guesses. “The cemetery. A sad modern-art exhibit . . . a long-winded lecture on actuarial science . . .”
I’m already cutting past her to continue with my day. “Bye, Paige.”
“A crumbling war memorial!” she calls out after me.
Because my back’s to her, she doesn’t see my smile.
Chapter Seven
PAIGE
On our days off, staff members at Siesta Playa are allowed to enjoy resort amenities so long as we follow two rules. The first is that we can play tennis or basketball on the sports courts, lie out on the private beaches, swim in any of the resort pools—all of the above—as long as we don’t get in the way of any guests. If they want the tennis court, it’s theirs. If they need the lounger I’ve claimed, oh well. The second rule is that we can’t cost the resort money. No free food or drinks are allowed outside the staff cafeteria. It’s why I’m guzzling water instead of some fruity cocktail adorned with a frilly umbrella straw. I can’t afford a fifteen-dollar margarita on a regular Wednesday! Are you insane? In this economy?
There are three pools total at Siesta Playa. One is for adults only and, thus, pretty boring. Picture crusty old dudes with sunburns layered over fading upper-back tattoos. Another pool is geared toward children, replete with a ginormous play structure and eight water slides and, thus, a little too crazy. Then there’s this one, the perfect Goldilocks compromise. It’s large and centrally located and accepting of everyone. There’s always fun dance music streaming through the speakers, and there’s usually enough of a crowd that it provides a good backdrop for people watching. Lara and I have been here since the late morning. We scoped out the best lounge chairs and set up shop as close as we could get to the grotto. This was no coincidence, of course. Blaze is working today. I wore a bikini I borrowed from Lara. It’s pink and made of mere scraps. It should be illegal. I have to stay in the water because I’m scared of walking the short distance from here to my lounge chair; there’s no telling what will pop out.