Chapter 2

Two

R iding the elevator up to the fourth floor, in a repeat of yesterday, minus the injured dog and with a new cell phone, Alex checked his tie in the mirrored door. He then wiped his sweaty palms on his ass, under his jacket, where any moisture wouldn’t be noticed, and willed his hammering heart to slow down a bit. It was years since he’d been to a job interview, and he hoped this would be the last one for a long time. How he got so lucky to run into Scout Turner in the bar yesterday was beyond him, but he wouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth.

Alex immediately noticed the good-looking man who had sat beside him the previous day but was too annoyed about the missed opportunity to engage him in conversation. Then, the man turned the tables on him. In preparing for yesterday’s interview, Alex studied everything he could find about Scout Turner , looking for ways to make a good impression. Still, he hadn’t discovered any recent photos of him without the beard and mustache. Hence, he hadn’t realized that the owner of Turner Continental was the same man he’d discreetly ogled as they talked.

As the elevator doors slid open, he checked his watch for the eighth or ninth time since entering the lobby a few minutes ago. It was ten to three—early enough, but not too much as to seem overly eager. Not that it mattered. Turner knew Alex desperately wanted the job—he said as much in the bar before knowing who the man was.

He approached the impeccably dressed, middle-aged secretary for the second time in as many days and announced, “Alex Shepherd to see Mr. Turner.”

He didn’t miss how her green eyes flickered to a clock hanging on the wall above her desk before she gave him a nod of approval. “Mr. Turner is on a phone call and will be a few more minutes. Please help yourself to a bottle of water and have a seat.”

She gestured to a small fridge near the door he’d walked through moments before. It was filled with three-ounce bottles displaying the Paradox logo on the labels.

“Thank you.” After grabbing a bottle of water to relieve his parched throat, he sat and glanced around the reception area. In addition to the glass door he’d entered through, three wooden doors leading into other rooms were closed. The furniture was upscale, as expected for an elegant hotel. One wall was covered with stunning black-and-white images of the various hotels and other properties owned by Scout Turner’s ever-growing empire. The guy was a fantastic businessman, having reached multi-millionaire status in the hospitality industry before the age of thirty. Forbes, Fortune, Newsweek, and the New York Times were just a few publications featuring in-depth articles about him recently. His business savviness, coupled with his good looks, employees’ loyalty, and significant contributions to several charities, had made him a popular public figure.

At three o’clock on the nose, the secretary’s phone rang, and she answered the call. “Yes, Mr. Turner, he’s here ... certainly.” After hanging up, she pointed to the closed door on her left. “Go on in.”

Taking a cleansing breath, Alex pulled himself together, got to his feet, and tossed the now-empty water bottle into a small recycling bin beside the fridge. Out of courtesy, he knocked before pushing the door open. Turner rose from his leather chair behind a large cherrywood desk and held out his hand. “Ready to try this again?”

Alex shook the man’s strong hand, trying to ignore how good it felt against his own. “Yes, sir. I apologize again for yesterday. It was completely unprofessional.”

“Yet understandable. Have a seat.”

The men sat on either side of the desk. Like the rest of the hotel and reception area, the office was decorated in rich tones, fine furnishings, and attractive but unobtrusive artwork. Alex could see his résumé and employment application directly in front of Turner, who relaxed back in his chair and pinned him with an inquisitive stare. “So, tell me something about Alexander Shepherd that I won’t find in your résumé or on social media. And, yes, security does check that for me.”

Alex had seen too many people crash and burn their careers because of the crap they posted on Facebook, Twitter, or Instagram. Mostly, he avoided the sites except to stay in contact with some friends and family members scattered around the country.

“You mean besides everything I unloaded on you yesterday before I knew who you were?”

Turner’s chuckle was deep and sexy and sent a shiver down Alex’s spine. “Yes, although that did give me quite a bit of insight about you. Tell me what I don’t know already.”

Alex wasn’t sure what the man wanted him to say. Again, it’d been a long time since he interviewed for a job. “Okay, well, I’m a bit OCD about certain things, which, I’m sure you know, in the hospitality business, isn’t a bad thing. I enjoy traveling for both work and pleasure. And aside from when my mother had her stroke and when I had an appendectomy three years ago, I never took any unplanned time off from my job with the Four Seasons. I loved working there, but as I said yesterday, I felt I had to be closer to my family in case they needed me.”

Nodding, Turner appeared to mull over that answer for a few moments. Alex hoped his response had been appropriate enough.

Turner picked up a pen and twirled it between his fingers. “You do understand, if you’re offered the position, you’ll be working long hours for me—fifty to sixty per week. It’s Monday through Friday, eight to five, but you’ll also be expected to attend late-hour meetings and the occasional weekend event. Those will almost always be scheduled in advance by at least a few days.”

“Yes, I understand.” The job description posted on an employment site had listed all of that.

“Breakfast and lunch meetings happen frequently as well. But, as you’ll probably hear from my employees, I’m not a heartless man. If something happens within your family that needs your attention, I expect you to let me know, and I’ll make sure you have the time you need.”

“I appreciate that, Mr. Turner.”

For the next fifteen minutes, Turner asked questions, and Alex answered them to the best of his ability. While his mind stayed focused on the interview, he still found himself studying the other man. Turner’s dark-brown hair went well with his hazel eyes, which were more green than brown—probably because of his emerald- colored tie. He was about an inch or two shorter than Alex’s six-foot-two and obviously had a fine physique under his custom-made, dark gray suit. All the images Alex had seen of Turner for the last ten years or so were with him sporting a beard and mustache. It was a sexy look on the man, but so was this clean-shaven one. Alex couldn’t decide which he liked better.

As Turner wrapped up the interview, Alex presumed he’d get a phone call in a few days about whether or not he got the job. Undoubtedly, there were dozens of interested applicants vying for the position. When Turner stood and held out his hand, which Alex shook, the last thing he expected was for the man to say, “Welcome to Turner Continental, Alex. Before you leave today, go over to personnel and fill out all the payroll and insurance paperwork. They’ll give you an employee packet with all the information you need about the company and assign you a parking space. After that, stop by security to have your picture taken for your employee ID. They’ll also fingerprint you for the electronic scanners on some restricted doors and give you a set of keys. Are you available to start tomorrow?”

“Uh ... um, yes. Yes, sir. I’m sorry. You caught me off guard. Yes, I can start tomorrow.”

“Good. Report here first thing in the morning at eight o’clock sharp, and we’ll go over what I expect from you as my personal assistant. I purposely have a light schedule this week, but come Monday, be ready to hit the ground running. Are you old school and use a day planner or will a tablet work?”

Another question that caused him to shift gears and make a sharp turn in a different direction. That time, he recovered faster from the verbal whiplash. “A tablet is preferable.”

“I’ll have one waiting for you in the morning. Delilah will give you directions to personnel on your way out.”

Assuming he was dismissed, Alex turned to go but stopped when he remembered his manners. He still reeled from the abrupt job offer. When Turner raised an eyebrow at him, Alex smiled. “Thank you for hiring me, sir. I look forward to working for you and will do my best to get up to speed as soon as possible.”

“Good to hear. Oh, by the way, did you bring the dog’s vet bill?”

“Um, no, sir, it wasn’t ready yet.”

Turner nodded as he retook his seat. “That’s fine. When you get it, give it to Delilah, and she’ll make sure it gets paid.”

“I will, Mr. Turner.”

“It’s Scout, Alex. Mr. Turner or sir are only suited for formal settings.”

“Okay, Scout it is. Thanks again.”

Alex left the office, controlling the urge to throw a few fist pumps into the air. There would be plenty of time to celebrate later.

After he finished with personnel and security a little over an hour later, it was dinnertime. The hotel’s classy restaurant wasn’t something he was into while dining alone, so he exited the building and glanced around. Across the street was a pub that looked pretty good, and Alex chuckled at its name—the Cock & Bull. Since San Francisco had a large LBGTQ+ population, the name was undoubtedly a play on words. He wouldn’t be surprised to find it catered to the gay community. When the traffic in front of him came to a stop, he waited for the crossing signal to turn green and joined a small crowd of people making their way to the other side of the street.

Three men entered the pub ahead of him, and the last one held the door open for him, giving him a flirtatious smile as he did so. He was cute but at least ten years Alex’s junior. At thirty-four, Alex no longer wanted to date guys who preferred to spend most of their time at clubs and parties.

When the threesome stopped at the hostess stand, Alex stepped around them and found a seat at the bar. He didn’t mind eating alone but hated sitting at a table by himself. At the bar, he could probably find some casual conversation or watch sports games or the news on one of the many large TVs hanging on the walls around the area sectioned off from the main dining room.

After ordering a beer and asking for a menu, he took a moment to hang his suit jacket on the back of the stool, loosen his tie, and undo the top button of his shirt before sitting down. A glance around the place told him it was much bigger than it appeared from the outside. The bar took up one whole wall, from front to back, while counter-height tables and chairs were evenly spaced along a half wall behind Alex. On the other side of that, tables and booths surrounded a dance floor in the main dining room. A small stage, which he assumed was for musical entertainment, was at the far end of the room. At the back of the bar was the entrance to the kitchen and a hallway where the restrooms were located. Over by the hostess stand was a set of stairs leading to a second level. An expansive balcony along the entire perimeter held more dining tables and allowed the patrons to observe what was happening below.

The bar and tables were half-filled, but it was still early, and every few minutes, more people flowed in through the front door. It looked like the place did a decent business. If the food was good, Alex might visit often after work.

Before his mind could fully shift back to his new boss, his hot new boss, the bartender placed a pint of Guinness and a menu in front of him and asked, “Do I know you? You look really familiar.”

Alex eyed the man for a moment—dark hair, brown eyes, broad shoulders, about six-three, and around Alex’s age. He thought the other guy was familiar-looking too. Suddenly, a name popped into his head. “Gino Demara? ”

A smile spread across the bartender’s face, and recognition flashed in his eyes. He reached across the bar for a handshake. “Yeah! Holy crap! Alex Shepherd—that is you. I think the last time I saw you was our five-year reunion. How’ve ya been? Where’ve ya been?”

Gino and Alex attended high school together and were in several classes with each other. While they hadn’t been close—their graduating class had over 300 students—they’d still been friends and hung out with many of the same people. “I’m doing great, and I just moved back here from New York. My mom had a stroke, so I came back to help out.”

“Aw, that sucks, man. She doing okay, though?”

“Yeah, she is. It just made me realize how much distance there is between New York and here. What are you up to these days?”

Gino shrugged. “Little of this, little of that. For now, I’m working for my cousin, Rico, who owns the place. He’s a couple of years older than us, so I’m not sure if you remember him.”

He shook his head. The name sounded familiar, but he couldn’t conjure up an image of the man. “Not really, no.”

“He’ll be in later—I’ll introduce you. So, where are you working now?”

“Actually, I got hired to work for Scout Turner across the street. Just came from the interview.”

Gino’s eyes widened. “Seriously? That’s awesome. Scout’s a great guy and really takes care of his employees. He’s good friends with Rico. In fact, he’s a silent partner in this place.”

Alex filed that surprising tidbit of information away in his mind. It appeared Turner was involved in more business ventures than Alex had uncovered. Although, with his new position, he would learn a lot more about the man.

“Hey, Gino, I need two Heinekens, a chardonnay, and a dirty martini up,” a female server at the end of the bar called out to him.

He waved his acknowledgment but turned back to Alex. “Can you stick around after you eat? I get off in about an hour. We’ll have a few beers and catch up.”

“Sounds good.”

As Gino strode toward the end of the bar, Alex picked up the menu. It was amazing how much had changed since yesterday afternoon. A second chance at the interview. A new dream job. Reconnecting with old friends. San Francisco was finally starting to feel like home again. Now, if he could just find someone to adopt that damn adorable dog.