Page 12 of Embriagado

“The girls?” I asked, unimpressed.

“Yeah, the girls I work with?”

“So you mean hookers?”

“Bite my ass, Santiago.”

“You wish.”

She flipped me off. “Anyway, any chance you could get us onto the list?”

“What list?”

The two of them grunted.

“The wait list for the party, dumbass,” my brother said as he walked to stand next to Tess.

I grabbed my wallet and keys from the counter and shoved them into my pocket. “I still have no clue what you two are on about, but whatever it is, you can forget about it.”

“But—”

“No buts. I finally got a job. Ain’t no way I’m risking it for you stupid kids.”

“Who d’ya think you’re callin’ stupid?” Nacio grunted while Tess muttered something about those “epic parties” again. Not having the time or patience to stay and listen, I walked out of the house into the early morning. It must be fun to be them and come back home after a night of parties at the ass crack of dawn. I was like that, too, but that kind of life was long behind me. If there was one thing I knew, it was that I’d better stay the fuck away from drugs, booze, and parties. Not only because of my parole, but because I couldn’t afford the price those addictions took from you.

* * *

“So, this is the infinity pool,” Imani, the girl giving me a tour at the hotel, said while waving around. And as she went on explaining about where guests get their towels from, I focused on the pool. It was gorgeous, with palm trees around it and a panoramic view of the ocean. It was blazing hot today, and right now, I’d pay a hundred bucks to have a dip in those crystal clear waters. Shit, I was sweating my ass off in this stupid uniform, but wanting to keep this job for more than a day, I had to endure wearing a polo shirt and fucking khakis.

“Hey.” She slapped my arm. “Are you even listening?”

I nodded.

“Sure. You said all towels are made from Egyptian fabric.”

“Cotton.” Her lips twitched. “I said cotton.”

I sighed. “Whatever. Not like it actually matters⁠—”

“Of course it does,” she cut me off, crossing her arms over her chest. “When you run a hotel like Kallos, everything matters, down to the last detail.”

I huffed a laugh. “You saying people actually give a fuck if they wipe their ass with Egyptian cotton or not?”

She looked at me, one thick brow raised. “You’ve never worked in the hotel business before, have you?”

Too hot for this shit and feeling the sweat dribbling down my back, I fanned myself with my shirt. “No. Why?”

She huffed. “Because if you did, you’d know how absurd guests’ demands can be.”

“I bet.”

“I mean it.” She shook her head, her braids following the move. “Last month, there was this lady who tried getting me fired for not serving her the right kind of olive with her martini.”

“Fuck her,” I tsked.

“I know, right?” She smirked at me like a badass. “But that’s far from the worst. People have all kinds of insane demands. That’s why you should be grateful you’re only going to work in maintenance.”

She had a point, because I doubted I’d know how to deal with assholes like that.