Page 7 of Royal Shark
My assistant, Jean-Luc, who works in the small office connected to mine, pops his blond head in. He’s twenty, a native of Villroy from a long line of fishermen. He’s thrilled to have an office job. His father didn’t mind since he also left the fishing trade to work on the cosmetics manufacturing line we have now on Villroy, working with more profitable fish oil. Jean-Luc is organized and neat from his perfectly groomed hair in a short cut with spikes in front to his neatly pressed short-sleeved pink shirt with beige trousers. “Good morning, Adrian.”
I told him on his first day that if he didn’t call me by my name instead of Your Highness, I’d fire him. I said it with a smile so he wouldn’t be worried. I need the person working with me most to relax around me. “Good morning, Jean-Luc. What’s the latest?”
He recites the list. “You need to go over payroll and sign off on it, there’s an issue with a new employee who apparently forged their work visa, the weekend bartender quit, and security believes they found a cheating couple in last night’s poker game.”
I clench my jaw. “Why didn’t security come to me last night about the cheaters?”
He pulls at his collar and swallows visibly, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. “They feared rushing to an accusation, especially with new guests, so they thought they’d have you review the video this morning and give your opinion.”
I lift my palms. “What does it matter now? They’ve probably already left the island.” We cater to day-trippers. There’s no hotel here.
He backs up a step and then another, inching toward the door. Obviously, I need to temper my tone of voice. I may be six feet with a muscular build that gets a rigorous workout sparring with the palace guards, but I’m not going to throttle my assistant.
I take a deep breath. I don’t mean to sound like a snarling boss. I’m normally a low-key, mellow person. I’ve even been called a gentleman for my excellent manners and consideration of women. My twin taught me a lot about the care and feeding of women. Ha! Never tangle with a hangry woman. In any case, I just don’t have patience for incompetence. Do your job and we’ll get along fine. Security should’ve notified me immediately of suspected cheaters.
I gesture for Jean-Luc to come closer again and work to keep my voice even. “I need the names of the guards who noticed this.” The incompetent ones.
He clears his throat and mumbles something unintelligible.
“Speak up,” I order.
“Laurence and Albert.” His voice cracks.
“Thank you.” I swear I’m not a nightmare boss. I’m a perfectly reasonable man with a laid-back demeanor. No one can read my poker face. I must be cracking under the pressure of running this place single-handedly. That will be my next priority—hiring a pit boss to deal with the staff.
He shifts uneasily back and forth on the balls of his feet. “I should let you get to work.”
I’m good at reading people—one of the keys to winning at poker, the other being my near photographic memory—and he has something on his mind that he’s hesitant to say. More cheaters? I don’t feel like guessing.
I keep my voice reasonable. “Jean-Luc, do you have anything else you need to tell me?”
He stares at my desk. “Nothing important.”
I set my teeth, reaching for patience. “Anythingnotimportant you need to tell me?”
“I’d like the bartending job.”
“You’re quitting on me already?”
He wrings his hands together. “I’d still work for the casino. Just upstairs at the bar.”
“Why?”
“Um, because it’s fun. And there’s tips.”
I suppose it’s notfunto work for me. This is my first time managing other people and I’m fucking it up. I’m tempted to say,here’s a tip, don’t quit on the boss of the place one month into the job. I get it, though. I’m twenty-five, not so much older than him. The bar scene is more appealing than cowering from your grumpy boss.
“Have you ever tended bar before?” I ask.
“Yes. Last summer in France.”
“Find me a new assistant and the job is yours.”
He claps, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “I have the perfect person. My aunt. She’s a retired nursery school teacher. Very calm and patient.”
Is that what he thinks I need? Someone who won’t become agitated by me? Another insult to my newfound managerial skills. I must do better.
“Have her come in,” I say. “I still want to interview her first. And then you train her Monday through Friday and work bar on the weekend.”
