4. STERLING

The hairdresser was a good call. Carla had caught onto the greys growing in my hair before me, and I looked at myself several times a day. Especially when it came to trimming our my mustache. I was going for the Freddie Mercury look with it. I'd even managed to get a light massage in before going back out into the resort and being called out to deal with all types of problems.

Zara at the reception desk gestured me other, a sympathetic look on her face. "I tried to deal with it myself, but a supplier hasn't arrived yet," she said. "And now, there's going to be a horrible situation in the kitchen."

"Zara, please, today is not the day for jokes."

"I don't joke," she said.

She was one of the younger employees, and tried as much as possible to keep the job. I wasn't going to be the one to tell her that she had the job already, she didn't have to keep trying so hard.

"Also," she said, pulling off a resort branded sticky note. "I got a call for a special request, and then they didn't give me the request. I took a note of their number. They're in one of the villas."

As much as I wanted to deal with my side hustle, I really needed to deal with the delivery issue. I took the note and folded it. "Ok, thank you, Zara. Just one more thing, what was being delivered?"

She shrugged. "Oh. Sir. I don't know. But the driver called, and they said there was an issue with a tire, I think. Yes. A tire."

"Great." I gave her two thumbs up, biting on my bottom lip like none of this bothered me. This was the worst thing that could happen for the kitchen, especially when a lot of our guests came here for the food. "I'll deliver the bad news. You call up our supplier, the number is in the directory, and please get an ETA."

"ETA?"

"Estimated time of arrival, just ask them when they'll have something to us."

She smiled and nodded at me.

Sometimes speaking in English was easier than going through it in Spanish, mostly because whenever I spoke Spanish, they would tell me they wanted to practice their English, and I honestly couldn't fault them for that, knowing a second language was great in this business.

We had one head chef at the resort, he was in charge of the menu and he oversaw everything in the kitchen. And like a typical chef, he was a hot head who spoke with dramatic hand gestures and got red in the face with passion about everything.

The kitchen was busy, several members of staff all working in around each other like a well-oiled machine, and here I was, standing around the edge, looking in, trying to catch the head chef's attention.

"Chef Santiago," I called to him, raising a hand.

He shot a glance in my direction, already casting ferocity with his brows and gaze. "No," he said, stomping toward me. "No, no, no. You cannot be in here." He shooed me away. I was the resort manager, no area of the resort was off bounds to me, but the kitchen was his domain.

"There's been a delay with fresh food," I said, starting to explain in English.

He looked even madder. "Afuera. Out."

"I'm out, I'm out." I took a deep breath and fanned my face in the heat of the hallway of the galley between the kitchen and the restaurant area. He was already mad. I wondered if he knew about the delay.

It took five minutes to explain to him in Spanish the problem, and those five minutes spent explaining to him had undone all of the tension I'd had massaged out of my shoulders. He was pretty mad about the entire thing, but he said he could work with what he had already.

He was already pretty pissed at me because I'd gone into the kitchen and used some of his whipped cream. It wasn't like I'd used all of it, but he made it seem like I'd ruined his entire plan for the dessert menu.

Carla was still in the office, a big grin on her face.

"I heard Santi shout at you, again," she said, laughing. "I mean, if you wanted, I would've gone and spoke to him."

I sat on the chair, putting my feet up on the desk. "I solved the booking issue, by the way. Receptionist there closed down the booking client, and it basically shut the system down. And then Zara told me about the food order, so I—"

Carla hushed me. "We need to get drunk together," she said. "Do you still have that rum in the locked drawer?"

"Have you tried opening it?"

"Just a chupito ," she said, gesturing with her fingers.

"I'd actually love a little shot right now."

Carla wiggled her brows at me and shimmied her shoulders. "Come on, a shot won't hurt."

She was right. I needed it.

I handed her my keys with the desk drawer key. Inside that drawer there was a bottle of rum nestled between two small glasses. Carla poured both drinks, just two fingers worth. Perfect for a shot.

"We really need to go out together," she said, as we clinked glasses.

"Yeah, sure, like either of us ever get the night off together," I said, shotting the rum. It was sweet with a kick of spice in the back of my throat.

Carla smacked her lips after drinking. "That's good. Another?"

"No." I placed a hand over my glass. "You shouldn't be working, you should be enjoying your afternoon."

She flashed a smile, pressing her hands under his chin. "I was doing something good," she said. "You wanna know what I did?"

I stared at her. "Just tell me."

"I called Fernanda, she's going to cover me tomorrow night, which gives us the same night off together," she said, batting her lashes at me. "C'mon, tell me what you're thinking?"

"I haven't had a night our in ages, what if something horrible happens and I'm not here to sort it out." Over the years as manager, this thing had felt like my child at times. "Where did you have in mind?"

"It's a surprise," she said.

"No, isn't this for your birthday. It should be me planning you a surprise."

"The surprise was the cake you got me, and all of that cream Santi was mad about," she said. "So, this is going to be a favor from me to you."

"Carla, if I were straight, I'd have proposed to you already," I said, removing my hand from the glass. "Ok, one more shot, and then I have to go deal with some more requests." Specifically, a request where I was going to make money under the table.

"So you're going to let me take you somewhere?" she asked. "Because you're gonna have so much fun."

"Yes, but I can't get too drunk, just in case," I said.

Fernanda had worked here for a year and every time she'd had a shift in charge of the resort while I was either asleep, or away, there were always so many calls to deal with.

The second shot of rum was well-needed, letting the tension sink away in my shoulders once more. "I think we need to get an ice cube machine in here. Because this rum would taste even nicer if it was chilled."

Carla hummed, smacking her lips again. "Probably not in the budget though."

"Not in the budget for admin costs," I grumbled, looking around at some of the paint flaking away from the walls. "Maybe I should've taken some from the kitchen when I went, might've helped Santi cool off."

"A dream," she laughed. "You know, maybe a little vacation to the freezer, just a minute or something."

"You know, I used to go to the walk-in freezer and stand in there for a couple minutes pretending that I was searching for something," I said, fanning my face with a hand. "It just made it feel warmer when I was back outside."

"I might try it out," she said. "Maybe talk to Santi as well, see what he is saying."

I stood, my knees giving out little creaky pops. "Yeah, you do that. But don't come back to me if he shouts. I'm trying to pretend he doesn't even exist at this point." It was easy to do when he didn't come into my space and I never went into his space, unless I really had to, like delivering devastating news.

I remembered the guys who were both sat outside by the pool for breakfast this morning, they were the same ones that had requested information about the specials, which were the Gersch teddies. They were the exact type I would've expected to ask about them. From their check-in information, I knew the primary was Henry Beck, and the additional guest was Fallon Khachaturian. I never really looked up any of the guy who stayed here, but I felt them flirting this morning, and I really needed the stress relief their attention gave me.

Outside the resort, I went down the steps to the villas. They were close but far enough apart to have privacy. I really wished I could've stayed in one of these all the time rather than a room in the resort hotel.

The guests were staying in villa three.

There wasn't an immediate answer to the knocking at the door. I waited a little while longer, desperate to see the inside and pretend for a moment I was staying there.

Each villa was two bedrooms, one with an ensuite. A nice kitchenette for guests to cook at, if they chose, and a living area with view of the beach in front. It was so serene, it reminded me of some summers my family spent in the Hamptons with a family friend.

There was finally an answer. Wrapped in a towel, dripping water on the entryway, the one who'd stared at me with big bug eyes. "Hi," he said, tugging the towel tighter. "We just got back from the beach, I—"

"I'm here about the special request," I said, making sure to keep my eyes up at his eyes and be professional.

"Oh. The—the teddies?" he asked.

Well, that cut through some of the dance we were bound to take while I figured out if they were talking the same thing as me. Usually, I could tell, but it was always safer not to reveal my hand of cards all at the same time. "Yes," I said. "If now isn't a good time, I can come back later." It was becoming a struggle to keep my eyes up.

"I'll go get dressed, come in," he said. "My friend is also interested, he's in the living room."

In the living room, laid on the sofa with a book in his face, the other guest. He jumped up, noticing me. "Hi, I'm Henry," he said. That was it, the name. I felt relieved.

"Mr. Beck," I said, "I'm here at your request. Are you interested in anything particular?"

Sitting up straight, he nodded. "The Gersch teddies," he said, almost in a whisper. "Is that why you're here?"

"I can definitely see if that's something I can procure for you."

"Oh, so, you're not the reseller," he said.

"No, I am. Do you want to wait for your friend to come out before I tell you the details?" I asked, hearing the music playing in the room.

He nodded. "Also, can you offer my friend a discount. I'll pay the difference. He really wants one, and this year has sucked, so if you could maybe offer it lower, then I'll just pay the extra." He was getting flustered, overexplaining himself.

"Sure. Are you also looking for something?"

"Yes, but are they legit?"

"I'll explain when your friend is here."

It wasn't complicated to explain, but I'd rather only do it once than twice and get details mixed up. I tried to keep the details to a minimum where possible, rather than telling people the exact operation of the business.

Fallon, or Mr. Khachaturian, came out in a pair of shorts and a tank top, showing off the tan lines already beginning to form on his upper arms. As they sat together, and I explained the information to them, I wondered if they were both just interested in teddies, or whether it delved deeper and they were secretly littles or middles.

"Here's my current supply," I said, handed them my phone. "There's a small discount since both of you are buying." I almost chewed through my bottom lip thinking about them being adorable, playing with the teddies together.

Fallon was mumbling about the cost, and Henry seemed to try and silence him.

They were both excited, looking at all the teddies I had on offer.

"I want them all," Fallon said.

"I'm stuck, I really want the one with the blue bow," Henry said.

"They look like twins," Fallon cooed over another.

"They are all available," I reminded them. "But there is also only one of each."

After a moment of back and forth, they decided on two teddies.

"I thought it would've been more expensive," Fallon said with a big smile.

"Honestly, me too," Henry added. "Is there a huge error or something with them?"

I had already told them that a couple had minor manufacturing errors, but nothing that the untrained eye would pick out, and there were very few trained eyes. "Nope, but there also aren't refunds."

It didn't seem to bother them.

"Once you pay me, I'll collect them, place them at reception, and you'll go there to collect," I continued to explain. "Mention missing teddies and your room number, well, villa."

They were so giddy once the money was handed over. That was exactly the feeling I went for when I sold these teddies. Seeing glee on their faces like I'd made their entire year, and for Fallon, I definitely felt that. He seemed precious.

With all that going on, I didn't even manage to get any flirting on or ego stroking, but they were both my type. In another world, where I was a guest here, something hot could've happened.