Leah
"Leah!"
I froze on the spot.
Here it comes. The awaited moment. The moment that kept me up all night, staring at the ceiling even when exhaustion begged me to sleep.
I would've gone straight to the hotel at daybreak to see if I could make amends, but we weren't allowed in until thirty minutes before our shifts. So I'd waited, torturing myself by replaying the disaster over and over in my head.
Throughout my classes this morning, I couldn't concentrate. My head reeled with contingency plans. What alternatives do I have? How soon can I find another job that pays enough to take care of Jason and Grandma, plus tuition?
I'd gone to the library after classes to study as usual, but it was futile. I read the same page fifteen times without absorbing a single word. Eventually, I'd dozed off right there at the table, only to wake up way past the start of my shift.
"Yes, sir," I answered through chattering teeth and a heart that felt like it might beat right out of my chest.
"What is wrong with you?!" Mr. Scott snapped, his British accent clipping each syllable.
"Sir, I'm sor…"
"Save it!" He threw up a perfectly manicured hand. "We have a massive event coming up, and you're gallivanting about with gross misconduct!"
"I'm really sorry. I didn't know what I was thinking. I'll set things right, I promise. I'll go to him and apologize…"
"Dadadadadaa," he interrupted, fluttering his hand dramatically for me to stop talking. "What are you yapping about?"
"Uh…"
"Apologize to who?" He asked, one perfectly shaped brow arching as he placed a hand on his hip.
"Uh… you! Apologize to you, for uh…"
"Mm hmm?" He gestured impatiently with his hand for me to continue, tapping his foot.
"For uh… for what exactly?" I squeaked out.
He frowned, his face contorting with disgust as if I'd just said something utterly offensive. "Are you serious right now? Check. Your. Time."
I widened my eyes in realization.
Oh.
"Late!" I yelped. "I'm sorry for coming in late, Mr. Scott. I've never done it before. Today will be the last time I clock in late, I promise," I rambled, grinning so widely my cheeks hurt.
He pursed his lips and squinted at me like I was some wild, unhinged creature he'd discovered lurking in the supply closet.
"Weirdo," he muttered under his breath. Then he gave an exaggerated shudder, turned on his heel, and walked off with the kind of flourish only Mr. Scott could manage.
Phew.
I exhaled shaky breaths, tapping my chest to calm my racing heart.
Mr. Scott didn't know yet. Which meant I still had time to find Mr. T and apologize before this whole nightmare spiraled further out of control.
From that moment on, I made it my mission to track him down. I'd gone up to his suite and knocked, no answer. I'd checked the dining area, the lobby, the terrace, everywhere. Nothing. It was as if the man had vanished into thin air.
By late evening, on the verge of complete collapse, I gave up. He must have left the hotel.
"That girl is crazy," I heard one of my colleagues say from across the lounge.
At first, I thought she was talking about me, but when I glanced her way, I noticed she was huddled with a couple of other staff members near the bar. They were all staring at something, making various faces ranging from disgust to fascination.
Curiosity got the better of me. I moved closer and followed their collective gaze.
Standing between two seated men was June, in all her female glory, her uniform tailored so tightly it looked like it had been painted on. The buttons of her blouse strained against her chest, barely containing what she clearly had no intention of hiding.
She was holding a tray of desserts, but instead of simply placing it on the table like a normal person, she leisurely bent down, exposing an absurd amount of cleavage as she offered the tray to one of the men.
The man she was clearly targeting, had his head bent over his phone, completely ignoring her performance.
Despite myself and my own spiraling predicament, I actually scoffed. This was the first time I'd ever seen someone ignore the legendary June.
But I'd concluded too soon. The man raised his head and looked up at her.
"Jeez, that man is foine!" one of the girls beside me swooned, fanning herself dramatically.
"My panties are soaked already," another whispered, not even trying to be subtle. "I need him to handle me. Immediately."
"Ladies, please. Calm down. Keep your wild imaginations to yourselves," one of the guys muttered, shaking his head.
They started bickering and may have started poking fingers at each other. I couldn't tell because their voices gradually went muffled and distant.
In fact, everything around me seemed to disappear, leaving just the man sitting on the couch in front of me.
"Mr. T," I whispered, my heart restarting its violent, rapid thumping.
And then, as if he'd heard me across the room, he looked up.
Our eyes locked.