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Belinda pauses to size me up, her gaze trailing over the open collar of my shirt, down to my splayed thighs. Either she wants to climb onto my lap or stab me in the groin with her pen. “If there’s nothing else …”
“There is.” I’m feeling ballsy today. I turn to Lena. “Do you have a Jeremy Smith in your pile?”
Lena checks her spreadsheet. “I do. He’s at the very top. In bar service.” She pushes her auburn hair off her forehead and then settles wary golden brown eyes on me. “Why?”
Sloane wanted to leave him off the hit list, but I can’t ignore how these guys are willing to royally fuck her over. “I need you to hire him part time. Two nights a week, max.” Just enough that he can’t afford to quit his day job.
“Are you for real?” She glances up at Belinda before staring at me like I’ve failed at singing the alphabet. “Why would I do that?”
“Because I’m asking you to.”
With a doubtful frown, she rescans the page. “Debbie put him at the top of the list for Seraphina’s, which means he impressed her.”
The upscale open-air bar on the water, which, from what Belinda said, is expected to be crammed every night with both hotel guests but also visitors hoping to snag a cocktail reservation. “I’m not surprised.” Everyone seems to love this Jeremy, including Sloane. “Tell him you’ll give him full-time permanent at the end of the season. But, for this summer, I need you to limit his hours.”
Her fingers drum with annoyance over the desk surface, the diamonds on her wedding band sparkling under the fluorescent light. “That might have worked on Dorian, but like you get final say, so do I.”
“This request comes directly from Henry Wolf,” I lie.
Belinda’s eyes bore into my face from across the table, but I ignore her.
The name drop had the intended effect. Lena’s back stiffens. As far as she knows, Henry is at the top of my Favorites list on my phone. He’s not, but his wife is, below my parents and my sister. “Part-time hours, even though we have a strict requirement that seasonal employees must be available full-time. Got it.” She scribbles next to Jeremy’s name while shooting me an unhappy frown.
Mention of bartending reminded me of something else. “What about a guy named Cody? Is he there too?”
Her eyes skim the list and then she sighs heavily. “Seriously? Are you going to tell me I can’t hire him either?”
I smirk. “Do what you want with that one, but you should know he was fired from a local bar for giving out shots to get dates with pretty women. I doubt he admitted to that in his interview, and I can tell you for a fact Wolf takes that shit seriously. Considers it theft.” My friend Rachel got fired for it at Wolf Cove in Alaska until Abbi stepped in and managed to sweet-talk Henry into rehiring her.
With a groan, Lena strikes out Cody’s name with her red marker and then collects her things and marches off.
Leaving me alone with Belinda.
“I think I may have created a monster,” she muses, though there is no humor in her voice.
“How so?”
“When I said to be like Henry, I didn’t expect such a remarkable impression.”
“Too arrogant for your liking?”
Her lips part, but she stalls. “I didn’t realize how well you knew him.”
“I don’t know him well.” I rise with a leisurely stretch. “I know his wifereallywell, though.”
Something unreadable dances in Belinda’s gaze. She’s worked with Henry for decades and I don’t doubt they fucked around in the past. She must know there’s some truth to those scandalous headlines. “Careful how you wield Henry’s name. It might burn you in the end.”
“Just watching out for his best interests.” Will she tell him? Will he care?
“I would focus on your own interests. The next few weeks are going to be overwhelming, and if you don’t want to lookstupid in front of Dorian and Lena and, well,everyone, I would spend every minute of that time learning how to do your job.”
Her reminder settles over my shoulders like a cinder block. “On that note, if you don’t mind, I have things to do.”
“Those signs better be down by Monday morning.”
“They will be.” I sound far more confident than I feel. Will Sloane hold up her end of the deal after how we left things?
“And I want that final list in to HR by 1:00 p.m.!” she hollers at my retreating back as I march toward my office.