Page 41 of Sapphire Sunset

“Logan, enough, man. Enough. It’s a hotel, all right? Not awar zone. A hotel. Sometimes you come at stuff too hard and you make headachesfor everybody. Headaches I don’t need. Like, I know Steve liked all youremails, but Rodney didn’t, so cool it.”

It’d been a while since Logan had sent upper management anemail recommending various tweaks to their security procedures. He’d alwaysbeen careful to phrase them in a diplomatic manner, and always careful to offerhis own services, sometimes after hours and for no overtime, to execute the littlefixes he suggested. Steve used to welcome his emails, but after he left andLogan was passed over for his job, it sounded like his suggestions weren’t goingover so well. Especially the one questioning the install of the new camerasystem.

“Just asking how I’m supposed to do my job, that’s all,” Logansaid.

“Your job is to stand at the lobby doors and look as dashingas you always do. That’s why Rodney wants you on so many days. The lady guestslove you, and some of the guys do too, which I know really works for you. So,you know, stay in your lane and don’t make my life harder.”

“All right,” he said. “Warning received. I’ll stay in mylane.”

To vent his frustration, he popped the top off the beerbottle against the side of the counter using the side of one fist.

“Good. But I’m sorry, Logan. I’m going to have to write youup.”

“For what?”Logan bellowed before he could stophimself.

“This is an issue with you, man. This getting up in people’sfaces thing.”

“I didn’t get up in anybody’s face. Pete got up in mine.”

“Still, I need you to figure out how to de-escalate thiskind of stuff when it happens. You’re a big guy, and you freak people out. Idon’t need someone like Pete turning allMe Tooon us.”

Logan pulled so hard from his beer he was afraid he mightdown half the bottle in three gulps. But he was afraid if he dropped it, he’dput his fist through the wall.

Me too? What the hell was Buddy talking about?Was heimplying there’d been an element of sexual harassment in his quarrel with Petethe day before? The whole thing was insane. Logan hadn’t been written up infive years of working at Sapphire Cove. The fact that he was going to be now,over trying to do his job, and with a thread of homophobia running through itto boot, was too much to swallow at once. So he swallowed more beer instead. Inthis moment, there was no winning. An argument with Buddy on top of an argumentwith Pete, who was apparently Buddy’s new favorite, would make the whole thingworse.

“Do what you have to do, Buddy.” Despite his best efforts,he’d said it like,Come at me, pal. I dare yah.

Buddy didn’t bother with a goodbye.

At least he didn’t ask me to apologize to that prick,Pete.

Worse things had happened in his time at Sapphire Cove thanBuddy Haskins becoming security director, but sometimes Logan forgot that fact.

No, the worst thing without a doubt had been the death ofDan Harcourt a few years ago, an event that had left the long-term staffmembers, folks who’d worked there since the place had opened in the sixties,emotionally gutted.

Martin Harcourt’s death a few years later didn’t levelSapphire Cove’s staff in the way the loss of his father did. People were sad,of course, but Martin had been more hands-off with the hotel’s day-to-dayoperations, hadn’t nursed the long-term relationships with the hotel’s seniorworkforce that his father had.

Crashing either man’s memorial just to get a glimpse ofConnor felt gross.

Hoping either tragedy might have caused them to bump intoeach other also feltkindagross. So he’d kept thathope to himself.

Still, Connor had slammed the door on Sapphire Cove so fastit was hard for Logan not to suspect their last meeting had something to do withit.

As he showered away the sour smell of cheap sex, whichsomehow smelled worse when it didn’t remind you of anything fun, he keptwondering why Pete, a guy who’d been there three months, had been told about anew procedure with the cameras and not Logan. And he kept wondering how Petecould have felt so damn confident about his newfound knowledge, getting up inLogan’s face like he was a bouncer and Logan a guy trying to crash the ropeline. And he kept wondering why Buddy didn’t seem to give two shits about someasshole trying to cheat the hotel with a fake claim. Rodney had lost his shitover less.

Then there was the fact that Logan had never been written upin five years of working there and happened to be the only security agent onstaff with actual fight and self-defense training, and yet Buddy, a guy whoseidea of strength training was letting out several loud farts in a row, had beenpromoted over him. By a general manager who thought Logan looked so great inhis uniform he’d practically turned him into an art installation in the lobby.

None of it made any sense.

And all of it left him debating a larger and more importantquestion.

What the hell was going on at Sapphire Cove?

He tried to watch TV, tried reading for a bit. Texted Donnieto see how the porn awards show he was attending in LA was going and got backblurry shots of porn stars making out in a hotel ballroom. After a while, he feltthe familiar call, the one that made him excited and nervous at the same time,that had him opening his Instagram account, Palm Tree Guy. Technically, itwasn’t a fake account. There were only four pictures on it, but Logan hadactually taken them, and they were all of very real palm trees on the groundsof his very real apartment complex.

Connor’s profile, on the other hand, was mostly shots of theamazing events he’d been throwing in Manhattan for five years. Soaring floralcenterpieces. Gorgeous ice sculptures. Backyards in the Hamptons transformedinto stylish wedding chapels. But every now and then Connor was in one. Posingbefore an empty dance floor, or with a team of New York hipsters who’d helpedhim execute the festivities in question. Five years had sharpened some of theangles in his face, and most of the time now there was a serious look in hisbaby blues, and his outfits were a bit more muted and grown up but stillstylish with glimmers of flash.

Maybe New York had toughened him up a bit.

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