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 merely sit, watching.
When he’s satisfied, he points to me. “We did good over the last few days. You and me, we kept this place up and running when no one else could have. Mr. Durliat will be here tomorrow to assess the resort and get a progress report for any lingering damage. He’ll no doubt commend us for our efforts over the last few days. It was my quick thinking that saved countless lives.”
Todd’s never had a quick thought in his life. I imagine his brain moves like molasses, same as his limbs. Another peanut gets tossed into his mouth. I’m surprised he has the dexterity to deshell them at all. I’d expect him to pound his meaty fist down onto them like a bear.
“Now, I know staff is back in place and we’ve resumed normal life,” he continues. “However, I think we lucked out with some good damage from the storm. Those dorms that flooded, a few roof issues—in my opinion, it’s enough to justify continued layoffs. We can play up the issues with the generators too. Mention a drop in upcoming stays because of fears about the weather . . . that sort of thing. I’m sure you and me can come up with good stuff.”
First of all, the resort is well insured, so any damage caused by the storm will be covered, easily. The roof had a few shingles fly off that have already been replaced. The generators have been diagnosed and serviced. The flooded dorms are already getting repaired, starting today. In the end, any savings earned from laying off countless staff members will only go to line Todd’s pockets, or should I say Turtle Cove, LLC’s pockets. It doesn’t matter. They’re one and the same, and I know that now.
My silence irks him enough that he turns from the window and gives me his full attention. It’s as if what he’s about to say should really interest me.
“Now here’s the thing, Cole. I’m prepared to promise you a share in the windfall. Seven percent of anything that comes my way.” He winks like this should be enough to knock my socks off. “When I meet with Mr. Durliat tomorrow, I’d like you to be present. I’ll hint at a possible promotion then as well . . . now, it won’t come with a raise, per se, but there could be a title change, something more properly befitting my second-in-command around here.”
I fear my general distaste for him is written across my face, but if it is, he doesn’t see it.
Seven percent of his stolen money and a fancy new title.
Well gee golly, mister. Sign me up!
“I don’t know what to say.” Because truly, I don’t know what to say that won’t come out sounding condescending.
Todd holds up his hands and shakes his head like he’s trying to look humble. “Now, don’t go thanking me yet. We’ll see how all this pans out. In the meantime, you know the drill.” He zips his lips. “Let’s keep things hush hush.”
“Absolutely.”
“Tomorrow. Eleven o’clock here in my office.”
I stand and give him a mock salute, which he absolutely eats up. “Tomorrow, sir.”
Then I walk out of his office knowing I need to hurry if I’m going to make it back to my office for a scheduled call with Joel Mira, Siesta Playa’s CFO.
Enjoy your last twenty-four hours in power, Todd. Don’t worry, I’ll let you take your peanuts with you when you’re escorted off the premises.
Even with my hectic day, I haven’t forgotten about Paige. She lives eternally on the periphery of my mind so that when I have a spare second or a moment to myself, she’s the first thing I think of. As the workday draws to a close and it’s almost time to meet her, I start to get nervous. Stupid, I know. What is there to worry about? I keep checking my watch every five seconds, and I’m shocked that more time hasn’t lapsed. Surely it was 5:15 forty-five minutes ago.
“What time do you have?” I ask the receptionist.
“Five fifteen.”
Damn.
I haven’t seen Paige all day.
Between my meeting with Todd and my call with Joel, I also paid a visit to the accounting department on top of putting out all the usual daily fires in our resort.
The preppers are on their way out, begrudgingly dragging their bug-out bags and adventure gear behind them, bemoaning their reentry into normal society. I’m not ashamed to say I’ve enjoyed watching them go. Most of them are sporting some kind of bandage or wound wrap, and it looks as if our hotel amenities—warm showers and complimentary soap—were overlooked in favor of going au naturel, i.e., overgrown beards and visible stink lines. If you didn’t know better, you’d think these guys just spent the better part of a week stranded on a deserted island instead of living in the lap of luxury.