Chapter Rating: G
"I haven't the time for this Greg!!"
"I- I'm terribly sorry...th-this... uh… I". The Personal Assistant seemed to have no choice but to stutter as he frantically searched his desk for his employer's airline tickets. This was the kind of moment that he had worked meticulously, with painstaking perfection, in order to try and avoid. No man, woman, hell – army – for that matter stood a chance when up against an angry Olivia Spencer.
Standing in the doorway to Greg's office, Olivia waved an annoyed hand at a young concierge when his terrified eyes asked hers if it was okay to take her luggage to her limo.
Well, get a move on! Her eyes snapped at him. Needless to say he immediately obeyed.
"Greg..." she began in a cold but eerily calm voice, her thumb and forefinger pinching the bridge of her nose. Her eyes were closed as if in attempt to hold within the fire that threatened to incinerate the PA where he stood.
"They... they have to be around here...it… they...I," he stammered.
"Greg!..." more forcefully now, eyes still closed.
"No, you know what?" cutting her off, "everything is fine." He faked a smile though his lips were trembling. "I will just go ask Marcie if she moved anything around on my desk today." He made a few steps towards the door, feeling as though this move was as idiotic as a Lamb throwing themselves into the Lion's mouth.
"GREG!" Olivia yelled, her voice nearly reaching its loudest decibel. Greg froze in his tracks, his eyes closed and lips clamped tightly together. Yup, the Lion is awake, he thought to himself as he sighed out loud, head hanging down in the acceptance of his fate.
"Greg, I am to be in LA in 6 hours." She started, eyes still closed, but her voice had returned to its chillingly soft tone. "I am to be meeting with the President of the largest hotel chain in California. A hotel chain that has dozens of other chains from all over the world stumbling all over each other to try and acquire..."
"I understand Ms. Spen–"
Olivia shut him up by quickly raising her finger out to eye level. "Dozens of hotels, trying desperately to make their bids on this life changing opportunity...and I got the call." She slowly opened her eyes and stared directly into the terror within the young man's soul. "Do you understand what I am saying, Greg?"
"L-life changing...Dozens...C-call…"
"Mhmm." She smiled one of her most least reassuring smiles to date. "Now, I am going to go downstairs and get comfortably situated in my limo, and you..." she poked at his chest forcefully enough to make him rock slightly backward, "you are going to meet me down there in no more than ten minutes, with my tickets and a bottle of aspirin for the headache you've just caused me." She raised her eyebrows and nodded her head up and down slowly, willing his to snap out of its fear-filled daze and take the direction.
His head soon followed suit.
"Excellent!" she hissed. Turning on her Manolo Blahnik ankle-boots, she strode confidently down the corridor towards the elevator.
What is it they say about 'Good Help'? She sighed as the elevator doors closed.
-----------------------------------------------------------
"Tell me again why we have to meet this one, in person?" Natalia inquired of her father whilst flipping through the hotel pamphlet on his desk in feigned interest. They are all the same whether it’s over the phone or face-to-face, she thought to herself with abject disdain. They all worship the ground we walk on, but before the ink is dry they will be tearing apart everything we've worked so hard to build, right before our eyes.
Antonio Rivera understood that this particular transition was going to be the roughest one on his family so far, but especially tough on his eldest child. This was her home, her pride and joy. This South Beach Empire held so many memories, for all of them really. But his daughter had always led with her heart. Though she had helped manage several of the family's properties over the years — and did so with great skill, mind you — she had never been ruled by a businesswoman's mind. Even though Mr. Rivera often felt that Natalia cared far too much about the simpler things in life, he had to admit that it was those carefree, yet loving concerns that gave his hotels their very 'Home Away From Home' charms.
"Natalia, I acknowledge that this next venture is going to be difficult on you. The idea of selling for the second time this year has us all a bit on edge. That being said, it is, however, a necessary evil." Trying to sound as level-headed as possible while speaking to his passionately strong-willed daughter, "This is what we do," he continued. "We acquire, we expand, and occasionally we must bend with the changing economic climates and know when to cut our losses."
Natalia didn't feel like bending. Although she knew, intrinsically, that her father was right, that wasn't going to stop her from loathing every single 'Suit' that was about to try and snatch up the only safe-haven she had ever really known. 17 years. She had moved into this building with her family when in her mid-teens and had gone through most of her major life changes here. Her mind wandered from the happiness of 'Then', to the uncertainty of 'Now', and decided that the weight of loss in the 'Right Now', was too much for her to bear.
"I'm going to the Kitchen!"
Antonio knew exactly what that meant. His daughter was hurting. The hotel's massive kitchen had always been a port through her storms, so to speak. She loved to cook, having learned from some of the world's most talented Sous Chefs. Whenever she needed to sort out the chaos in her mind, or vent her frustrations or fears, she did so by chopping, slicing, kneading or tenderizing some poor, unsuspecting food item. And many almost swore that they could taste 'comfort' in the final product of what her moods had caused her to create. However therapeutic, there was no denying it was also her passion.
"No actually, you're not," her father interjected before she had reached the door to his office. "I need you to do me a favor."
"Oh Dad, not pay-roll again…" she whined.
"No, not pay-roll although I think you might actually prefer that tedium over this..."
"Dad..."
Antonio braced himself for what he knew was coming.
"You, my dear, are going to the airport."
"I haven't the time for this Greg!!"
"I- I'm terribly sorry...th-this... uh… I". The Personal Assistant seemed to have no choice but to stutter as he frantically searched his desk for his employer's airline tickets. This was the kind of moment that he had worked meticulously, with painstaking perfection, in order to try and avoid. No man, woman, hell – army – for that matter stood a chance when up against an angry Olivia Spencer.
Standing in the doorway to Greg's office, Olivia waved an annoyed hand at a young concierge when his terrified eyes asked hers if it was okay to take her luggage to her limo.
Well, get a move on! Her eyes snapped at him. Needless to say he immediately obeyed.
"Greg..." she began in a cold but eerily calm voice, her thumb and forefinger pinching the bridge of her nose. Her eyes were closed as if in attempt to hold within the fire that threatened to incinerate the PA where he stood.
"They... they have to be around here...it… they...I," he stammered.
"Greg!..." more forcefully now, eyes still closed.
"No, you know what?" cutting her off, "everything is fine." He faked a smile though his lips were trembling. "I will just go ask Marcie if she moved anything around on my desk today." He made a few steps towards the door, feeling as though this move was as idiotic as a Lamb throwing themselves into the Lion's mouth.
"GREG!" Olivia yelled, her voice nearly reaching its loudest decibel. Greg froze in his tracks, his eyes closed and lips clamped tightly together. Yup, the Lion is awake, he thought to himself as he sighed out loud, head hanging down in the acceptance of his fate.
"Greg, I am to be in LA in 6 hours." She started, eyes still closed, but her voice had returned to its chillingly soft tone. "I am to be meeting with the President of the largest hotel chain in California. A hotel chain that has dozens of other chains from all over the world stumbling all over each other to try and acquire..."
"I understand Ms. Spen–"
Olivia shut him up by quickly raising her finger out to eye level. "Dozens of hotels, trying desperately to make their bids on this life changing opportunity...and I got the call." She slowly opened her eyes and stared directly into the terror within the young man's soul. "Do you understand what I am saying, Greg?"
"L-life changing...Dozens...C-call…"
"Mhmm." She smiled one of her most least reassuring smiles to date. "Now, I am going to go downstairs and get comfortably situated in my limo, and you..." she poked at his chest forcefully enough to make him rock slightly backward, "you are going to meet me down there in no more than ten minutes, with my tickets and a bottle of aspirin for the headache you've just caused me." She raised her eyebrows and nodded her head up and down slowly, willing his to snap out of its fear-filled daze and take the direction.
His head soon followed suit.
"Excellent!" she hissed. Turning on her Manolo Blahnik ankle-boots, she strode confidently down the corridor towards the elevator.
What is it they say about 'Good Help'? She sighed as the elevator doors closed.
-----------------------------------------------------------
"Tell me again why we have to meet this one, in person?" Natalia inquired of her father whilst flipping through the hotel pamphlet on his desk in feigned interest. They are all the same whether it’s over the phone or face-to-face, she thought to herself with abject disdain. They all worship the ground we walk on, but before the ink is dry they will be tearing apart everything we've worked so hard to build, right before our eyes.
Antonio Rivera understood that this particular transition was going to be the roughest one on his family so far, but especially tough on his eldest child. This was her home, her pride and joy. This South Beach Empire held so many memories, for all of them really. But his daughter had always led with her heart. Though she had helped manage several of the family's properties over the years — and did so with great skill, mind you — she had never been ruled by a businesswoman's mind. Even though Mr. Rivera often felt that Natalia cared far too much about the simpler things in life, he had to admit that it was those carefree, yet loving concerns that gave his hotels their very 'Home Away From Home' charms.
"Natalia, I acknowledge that this next venture is going to be difficult on you. The idea of selling for the second time this year has us all a bit on edge. That being said, it is, however, a necessary evil." Trying to sound as level-headed as possible while speaking to his passionately strong-willed daughter, "This is what we do," he continued. "We acquire, we expand, and occasionally we must bend with the changing economic climates and know when to cut our losses."
Natalia didn't feel like bending. Although she knew, intrinsically, that her father was right, that wasn't going to stop her from loathing every single 'Suit' that was about to try and snatch up the only safe-haven she had ever really known. 17 years. She had moved into this building with her family when in her mid-teens and had gone through most of her major life changes here. Her mind wandered from the happiness of 'Then', to the uncertainty of 'Now', and decided that the weight of loss in the 'Right Now', was too much for her to bear.
"I'm going to the Kitchen!"
Antonio knew exactly what that meant. His daughter was hurting. The hotel's massive kitchen had always been a port through her storms, so to speak. She loved to cook, having learned from some of the world's most talented Sous Chefs. Whenever she needed to sort out the chaos in her mind, or vent her frustrations or fears, she did so by chopping, slicing, kneading or tenderizing some poor, unsuspecting food item. And many almost swore that they could taste 'comfort' in the final product of what her moods had caused her to create. However therapeutic, there was no denying it was also her passion.
"No actually, you're not," her father interjected before she had reached the door to his office. "I need you to do me a favor."
"Oh Dad, not pay-roll again…" she whined.
"No, not pay-roll although I think you might actually prefer that tedium over this..."
"Dad..."
Antonio braced himself for what he knew was coming.
"You, my dear, are going to the airport."
0 comments:
Post a Comment