I grab my phone, make my way over to the sofa, and plop my ass down. All of this sitting around doing nothing is going to have to end and soon. I’m already bored out of my skull when I’m not around Cam.
“Bridger,” I say when he picks up.
“Easton, what can I do for you?” he questions.
“I need help,” I say honestly.
“You need help? You never ask for help. This must be about a girl.” He chuckles.
“Bingo, so will you help me?” Bridger grew up with three younger sisters, while the rest of us knuckleheads are either only children or have only brothers. I’m part of the only child tribe.
“Yeah, what can I help you with?” I go into detail about what I should do to move shit along with Cam, and he gives me some good insider information. We shoot the shit about what’s going on with Nighthawk, and then we hang up.
I put the phone on the coffee table, place my hands behind my head, and smile to the empty room.
Chapter Six
Cameron
I walk into the employee area the next day, and come to an abrupt halt. There, by my locker, where I put my purse while I’m on shift, is my supervisor, Mary. I wasn’t expecting her to say, “Cam, can I see you in my office for a moment?” The looks the other employees are giving me is as if they know what’s about to happen. I swear, if I get fired over this Easton Reid nonsense, I’m going to shove my foot up his hot as hell ass.
“Sure.” I follow her the whole way, feeling like I’m being sent to the principal’s office or my head is on the chopping block of a guillotine. I haven’t done anything wrong. Sure we hung out at the beach, ate some food together, and then yesterday I hugged him while I was in his penthouse. It makes me wonder if there aren’t video cameras in there. Or maybe she has some super spy following me around. My imagination really is endless, but at least it keeps me on my toes.
Before we make it into her office, I smooth down any invisible wrinkles I may have on my uniform and wipe my sweaty palms on my clothes. It probably defeats the purpose of looking put together, but right now, my nerves are on edge.
“Have a seat, Cam.” She motions for me to sit in a chair in front of her desk. I do as she says, trying not to get on her bad side.
“I wanted to make sure there isn’t anything wrong with the client we have in the East penthouse?” Mary says haughtily.
The color from my face drains completely. “I’m not sure what you mean,” I respond.
“It seems he’s taken a liking to you, making rather ridiculous requests,” she alleges.
“Huh, that’s odd,” I hum my answer, trying to maintain a semblance of composure in front of Mary.
“You must have made a lasting impression. Just yesterday, he requested you be the only one allowed in his room. Now, this morning, he’s asking for you to be his concierge while he’s here. I find it quite odd that he would request you, but as he went over my head, there’s nothing I can do about it. Though this is quite the promotion, and honestly, I don’t think you’re suited for the task. Regardless, I have no choice but to allow this to happen. Mr. Reid will be here for two weeks and is bringing in a substantial amount of revenue with him, and he’ll be moving to Beaumont, permanently. We don’t want to create an enemy in our back yard. So, I’m allowing it. Do you think you can even handle something of this caliber?” I can see she loathes that I’m being asked to do this, almost as if she wants the position for herself. One thing is for sure; I won’t allow myself to fail.
“I’ve never been a concierge before, but I promise I’ll do my absolute best,” I tell her, wondering what the hell Easton is really up to. I mean, me of all people, a concierge?
“Yes, I have no doubt about that, if you wish to remain employed when his stay is over. You’ll need to change.” She sneers at what I’m wearing, and I internally roll my eyes. I’m not going to give her a reason to get pissed off at me.
“Of course.” I’m still stunned speechless about what this job will entail.
“I’ll give you two hours to go home, change, return, and then meet with Mr. Reid.” She looks down at her desk, and I guess that’s it.
“Okay, thank you.” I’m still in a state of shock.
“Don’t screw up. That will be thanks enough,” Mary sneers.
I leave her office a befuddled mess, making my way back to the employee lounge to grab my purse out of the locker. I walk to the employee parking lot, pull out my phone, and dial a number I didn’t think I would use this fast.