Sure Thing
Page 18
“Hoodwink? Really, Rhys?”
“It’s a word, asshole. Stop avoiding the question.”
“I would’ve,” I tell him, “but I’d already met her. The night prior. And then things got… complicated.” There’s that word again.
There’s a brief pause while he takes that in. I hear him stop typing and imagine he’s settled back into his chair so he can focus on giving me shit.
“You British bastard. You have all the goddamned luck, don’t you? When I took Nan on a tour of the Canadian Rockies last year our guide was a fifty-year-old-man named Marvin.”
“Sorry, Rhys.” I grin even though he can’t see it. “I do have a rather lucky way with the breaks, don’t I?”
“Asshole.”
“Plus I’m older, better-looking and better at sport than you.”
“Better at sport,” he mocks. “You’re such a British wanker. Better at cricket, maybe. And you’re nowhere near as good-looking as me. Everyone knows I’m the best-looking of the cousins.”
“Everyone knows? You’ve taken a poll, have you?”
“I heard it discussed at Christmas. Uncle David’s new wife mentioned it.”
“She did not.” I snort.
“She thought it though,” he replies, undeterred. “In any case, you’re taking Nan next year too. This trip doesn’t count as a turn if you’re banging the tour guide.”
“Deal. And don’t be crass, Rhys, Daisy’s not a showgirl.”
“There’s not a showgirl in sight,” he says easily.
“Of course not.”
“And they prefer to be called entertainers.”
“There you have it. Difficult life you lead in the desert, Rhys,” I deadpan. He’s currently in Las Vegas overseeing the newest acquisition for the family business, Sutton International—the opening of a two-billion-dollar hotel and casino on the Vegas strip.
“I don’t have access to the employee files in the tour division,” he finally says. “Isn’t this the shit? Who do I need to fuck around here to get clearance?”
“Likely a relative, so you might want to reconsider that.”
“Shit. Way to ruin that fantasy, asshole.” I hear him tapping again at his keyboard before announcing that he’s sent a request to the casino’s human resources director. “She’ll either have access to all the US employment files or know who does. I’ll get the file sent over to you as soon as I have it,” he says.
“Thanks, Rhys.”
“No worries. It’s not as if we’re in the midst of hiring and training four thousand employees in time for the opening.”
“Appreciate it,” I drawl as I walk through the garden of the George Washington estate. I ditched the group once we were through the orientation area, Nan happily waving me off when I told her I had calls to make.
Rhys and I both work for the family business—the one founded by Nan’s father some sixty years past. This makes us the fourth generation of family members involved in the running of Sutton International, parent company to a hotel group, river cruise line and three brands of bus tours. Including the one I’m on right now.
We have offices on six continents and offer holidays to over two hundred destinations worldwide. Rhys is heading up the Vegas project while another cousin presides over our business in Canada. An uncle runs the river cruise division out of an office in Switzerland.
And me? I’m responsible for overseeing all of it.
“What is it you need anyway?” Rhys interrupts my thoughts. “You want her phone number? Date of birth? Home address? Because you could save all of us a lot of trouble and just ask her yourself.”
“I’m curious. I need more information.”
“That you can’t get from her.”
“That’s right.” The gravel below my feet crunches as I walk and I smile at this mini-inquisition from Rhys.
“Are you sure this girl is even interested in you?”
“She’s interested.”
“What’s wrong with her?”
“Nothing is wrong with her. She’s quite lovely. Possibly a pathological liar, but lovely.” I look up to find the woman herself standing not ten feet away. She too is on her mobile and spots me the same time I spot her. She takes a half step back, keeping her eyes on me as she talks. I take a step to the left, avoiding a small child running full tilt through the garden, and adding an additional step between myself and Daisy.
“She sounds interesting,” Rhys says into my ear, amusement clear in his tone.
“Oh, she is,” I agree as Daisy and I continue to eye each other across the garden. Clearly neither of us is interested in the other overhearing their conversation. She turns and walks down a graveled path until we’re separated by a large planting bed filled with an ornate pattern of shrubbery, both of us continuing our conversations with the other in view. “She most certainly is that.”
“You like her,” Rhys says slowly, dragging the words out as if the concept is new to him.
“I’m enjoying myself. That’s all.” A breeze passes through the garden, ruffling the hem of Daisy’s sundress. It’s pale yellow, ending a couple of inches above her knees. My eyes travel lower, down her tan calves to her sandal-clad feet and back up again. She’s pulling a strand of hair from her lipstick and ignoring me.
“Good. It’s about time.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I stop walking and examine a flowering ornamental tree of some sort while keeping Daisy in sight.
“Sperm mobility decreases with age. It might already be too late for you.”
“Jesus Christ,” I mutter.
“The family line is depending on you.”
“Stop taking the piss out of me, cuz. You’re only two years younger than me and I don’t see you planning your nursery.”
“Planning my nursery?” He laughs. “This British shit never gets old and I’ve known you my whole life.”
“Yes, your American colloquialisms continue to delight me as well, Rhys.”
“I’m sure. So are you headed straight back to London after the tour or can you squeeze in a visit to Vegas?”
“I’m delivering Nan to your mother in Bethany first, then yes, back to London. I’m a bit pressed for time with everything going on at the office.”
“You’re always pressed for time,” Rhys points out. It’s true. I feel like I’m constantly on the go. I like that though, don’t I?
The company keeps me busy. Nepotism will get you in the door and, yes, it will quicken your path of promotional opportunities but you’ve still got to do the work. Earn your place. Or there’ll be no company for the next generation of children and our ten thousand worldwide employees will be without jobs.
Children I may not have at the rate my personal life is moving. And if Rhys is to be believed about my declining virility.
So no pressure. None at all. The hallway to my office is lined with photographical evidence of over fifty years in business. Fifty years of growth and acquisitions. Of success and new job creation. Of bonuses being paid and benefits increased. Of ancestors staring at me from those photographs, wordlessly imploring me not to bugger it all to hell now.
Easy.
My father skipped the family business—initially. His passion was law, so he pursued that. Had a very successful career in criminal law before making the switch to corporate law when he joined the family business. He’s the head of legal now but has his eye on retiring in the next couple of years. My cousin Mila is poised to take over that team when the time comes.
“We’ve made a lot of progress since you were last here. We’ve taken ownership of the residential floors and the director-level employees have already moved on site. I’ll set you up in a suite on property and you can see the progress in person. We’ll even watch the showgirls rehearse for the opening,” Rhys teases.
“We’ll see,” I tell him. My focus is back on the beauty across the garden.
“I’ve got to let you go. I’ve got a meeting with the city in ten minutes. But consider it, Jennings. You can bring your new friend. I’d love to meet her.”
“I bet you would. I suspect you and Daisy would get on quite well.” They both seem to enjoy giving me shit.
“You might want to tell her who you are first,” he adds.
“I might,” I agree. “I just need to figure her out first.”
“Sure, keep lying. That usually works with women.”
Fuck. I pause for a moment, thinking about what he’s said. He’s got a point, hasn’t he?
“I’m in a bit too deep, aren’t I?”
“Most definitely,” he agrees with a laugh. “Keep me updated. I’ll forward her file when I’ve got it.”
“Thanks, Rhys.”
I disconnect the call and pocket my mobile. Daisy is still in the same spot.
I did a few of these tours myself, back when I was starting out with the company, just out of university. Not in the United States of course—the guides are meant to be regional experts and local to the country. The majority of my family started out the same way—either as tour guides or in entry-level positions at one of the hotels.
“It’s a word, asshole. Stop avoiding the question.”
“I would’ve,” I tell him, “but I’d already met her. The night prior. And then things got… complicated.” There’s that word again.
There’s a brief pause while he takes that in. I hear him stop typing and imagine he’s settled back into his chair so he can focus on giving me shit.
“You British bastard. You have all the goddamned luck, don’t you? When I took Nan on a tour of the Canadian Rockies last year our guide was a fifty-year-old-man named Marvin.”
“Sorry, Rhys.” I grin even though he can’t see it. “I do have a rather lucky way with the breaks, don’t I?”
“Asshole.”
“Plus I’m older, better-looking and better at sport than you.”
“Better at sport,” he mocks. “You’re such a British wanker. Better at cricket, maybe. And you’re nowhere near as good-looking as me. Everyone knows I’m the best-looking of the cousins.”
“Everyone knows? You’ve taken a poll, have you?”
“I heard it discussed at Christmas. Uncle David’s new wife mentioned it.”
“She did not.” I snort.
“She thought it though,” he replies, undeterred. “In any case, you’re taking Nan next year too. This trip doesn’t count as a turn if you’re banging the tour guide.”
“Deal. And don’t be crass, Rhys, Daisy’s not a showgirl.”
“There’s not a showgirl in sight,” he says easily.
“Of course not.”
“And they prefer to be called entertainers.”
“There you have it. Difficult life you lead in the desert, Rhys,” I deadpan. He’s currently in Las Vegas overseeing the newest acquisition for the family business, Sutton International—the opening of a two-billion-dollar hotel and casino on the Vegas strip.
“I don’t have access to the employee files in the tour division,” he finally says. “Isn’t this the shit? Who do I need to fuck around here to get clearance?”
“Likely a relative, so you might want to reconsider that.”
“Shit. Way to ruin that fantasy, asshole.” I hear him tapping again at his keyboard before announcing that he’s sent a request to the casino’s human resources director. “She’ll either have access to all the US employment files or know who does. I’ll get the file sent over to you as soon as I have it,” he says.
“Thanks, Rhys.”
“No worries. It’s not as if we’re in the midst of hiring and training four thousand employees in time for the opening.”
“Appreciate it,” I drawl as I walk through the garden of the George Washington estate. I ditched the group once we were through the orientation area, Nan happily waving me off when I told her I had calls to make.
Rhys and I both work for the family business—the one founded by Nan’s father some sixty years past. This makes us the fourth generation of family members involved in the running of Sutton International, parent company to a hotel group, river cruise line and three brands of bus tours. Including the one I’m on right now.
We have offices on six continents and offer holidays to over two hundred destinations worldwide. Rhys is heading up the Vegas project while another cousin presides over our business in Canada. An uncle runs the river cruise division out of an office in Switzerland.
And me? I’m responsible for overseeing all of it.
“What is it you need anyway?” Rhys interrupts my thoughts. “You want her phone number? Date of birth? Home address? Because you could save all of us a lot of trouble and just ask her yourself.”
“I’m curious. I need more information.”
“That you can’t get from her.”
“That’s right.” The gravel below my feet crunches as I walk and I smile at this mini-inquisition from Rhys.
“Are you sure this girl is even interested in you?”
“She’s interested.”
“What’s wrong with her?”
“Nothing is wrong with her. She’s quite lovely. Possibly a pathological liar, but lovely.” I look up to find the woman herself standing not ten feet away. She too is on her mobile and spots me the same time I spot her. She takes a half step back, keeping her eyes on me as she talks. I take a step to the left, avoiding a small child running full tilt through the garden, and adding an additional step between myself and Daisy.
“She sounds interesting,” Rhys says into my ear, amusement clear in his tone.
“Oh, she is,” I agree as Daisy and I continue to eye each other across the garden. Clearly neither of us is interested in the other overhearing their conversation. She turns and walks down a graveled path until we’re separated by a large planting bed filled with an ornate pattern of shrubbery, both of us continuing our conversations with the other in view. “She most certainly is that.”
“You like her,” Rhys says slowly, dragging the words out as if the concept is new to him.
“I’m enjoying myself. That’s all.” A breeze passes through the garden, ruffling the hem of Daisy’s sundress. It’s pale yellow, ending a couple of inches above her knees. My eyes travel lower, down her tan calves to her sandal-clad feet and back up again. She’s pulling a strand of hair from her lipstick and ignoring me.
“Good. It’s about time.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I stop walking and examine a flowering ornamental tree of some sort while keeping Daisy in sight.
“Sperm mobility decreases with age. It might already be too late for you.”
“Jesus Christ,” I mutter.
“The family line is depending on you.”
“Stop taking the piss out of me, cuz. You’re only two years younger than me and I don’t see you planning your nursery.”
“Planning my nursery?” He laughs. “This British shit never gets old and I’ve known you my whole life.”
“Yes, your American colloquialisms continue to delight me as well, Rhys.”
“I’m sure. So are you headed straight back to London after the tour or can you squeeze in a visit to Vegas?”
“I’m delivering Nan to your mother in Bethany first, then yes, back to London. I’m a bit pressed for time with everything going on at the office.”
“You’re always pressed for time,” Rhys points out. It’s true. I feel like I’m constantly on the go. I like that though, don’t I?
The company keeps me busy. Nepotism will get you in the door and, yes, it will quicken your path of promotional opportunities but you’ve still got to do the work. Earn your place. Or there’ll be no company for the next generation of children and our ten thousand worldwide employees will be without jobs.
Children I may not have at the rate my personal life is moving. And if Rhys is to be believed about my declining virility.
So no pressure. None at all. The hallway to my office is lined with photographical evidence of over fifty years in business. Fifty years of growth and acquisitions. Of success and new job creation. Of bonuses being paid and benefits increased. Of ancestors staring at me from those photographs, wordlessly imploring me not to bugger it all to hell now.
Easy.
My father skipped the family business—initially. His passion was law, so he pursued that. Had a very successful career in criminal law before making the switch to corporate law when he joined the family business. He’s the head of legal now but has his eye on retiring in the next couple of years. My cousin Mila is poised to take over that team when the time comes.
“We’ve made a lot of progress since you were last here. We’ve taken ownership of the residential floors and the director-level employees have already moved on site. I’ll set you up in a suite on property and you can see the progress in person. We’ll even watch the showgirls rehearse for the opening,” Rhys teases.
“We’ll see,” I tell him. My focus is back on the beauty across the garden.
“I’ve got to let you go. I’ve got a meeting with the city in ten minutes. But consider it, Jennings. You can bring your new friend. I’d love to meet her.”
“I bet you would. I suspect you and Daisy would get on quite well.” They both seem to enjoy giving me shit.
“You might want to tell her who you are first,” he adds.
“I might,” I agree. “I just need to figure her out first.”
“Sure, keep lying. That usually works with women.”
Fuck. I pause for a moment, thinking about what he’s said. He’s got a point, hasn’t he?
“I’m in a bit too deep, aren’t I?”
“Most definitely,” he agrees with a laugh. “Keep me updated. I’ll forward her file when I’ve got it.”
“Thanks, Rhys.”
I disconnect the call and pocket my mobile. Daisy is still in the same spot.
I did a few of these tours myself, back when I was starting out with the company, just out of university. Not in the United States of course—the guides are meant to be regional experts and local to the country. The majority of my family started out the same way—either as tour guides or in entry-level positions at one of the hotels.
