by Tina Martin
He grinned. “I’m not a people person. Never have been. You said so yourself.”
“No I didn’t,” she said, holding a chip between her fingers.
“You said I was rude.”
“Giovanni—”
“No. Don’t try to walk it back. That’s what you said, and it’s true. I know it is. How am I supposed to establish relationships with employees and corporate if I can’t even find common ground with these people? They look at me and see a spoiled millionaire. Meanwhile, they’re making nine dollars an hour. It’s not right, Emmie.” He took a pull from his beer bottle.
“Then you need to fix it, Giovanni.”
He smiled, showing that sexy, crater-sized dimple in his cheek. Pointing to himself with the bottle, he said, “I need to fix it?”
“Yes.”
He tossed a pork rind in his mouth. “Do you know how many hotels, motels and cabins Lennox Enterprises owns?”
“Mmm hmm. I hear Remy talking about it all the time, but don’t look at the big picture. Start small—one property at a time, beginning with Smoky Mountain Lodge.”
He crunched more pork rinds. “After the fire, I guess the place holds true to its name, huh? Get it? Smoky Mountain Lodge?”
Emory laughed. “You’re crazy.”
Giovanni took another sip of beer.
“So, how have you been doing with getting Joelle back?”
He looked at her. “You remember the girl’s name?”
“Yeah. Remy just talked to you about it two weeks ago and he’s been on edge about the state of the lodge after spending so much money renovating it. So, are you making any progress?”
“No, I’m not. I don’t know how to talk to her.”
“Now, that’s funny.” Emory grinned.
“You laugh, but I’m serious. I don’t know how to talk to her, at least not in the way I should know—the business way. Usually, when I talk to women, it’s more of trying to get the digits.”
“Oh, stop it, Vanni. You have two sisters and one sister-in-law. You know how to talk to women. Just think of Joelle as one of us and talk to her accordingly.”
He sighed heavily. “Guess it’s worth a shot.”
“It is. You find out anything about her yet?”
“Other than the fact that she hates my guts. No, not yet. She looks at me like everybody else does around here. Like I don’t deserve this position or anything else I have.”
“Then prove her wrong, Vanni.”
“I don’t have to prove anything to anyone.”
“Okay, well, at least try to convince Joelle, then.”
He shook his head. “Joelle…the woman is a mystery. She turns down Remington’s offer and works at a deli. If you ask me, she has a mental problem.”
“Did you look her up online? Social media profiles or anything?” Emory asked as she pulled up a search engine on her phone.
“Nah.”
“Why not?”
“Because I didn’t want to,” Giovanni said standing. He set the bag of pork rinds on the table and paced his steps back and forth near the railing with his hands in the pocket of his jogging pants. “If she doesn’t want the job, then the manager needs to take over and get that place back running like it should be. It’s never been our policy to chase behind disgruntled employees.”
“Joelle may be disgruntled, but I don’t think that’s the reason she quit. Remy was right. I think her reason for quitting was a much more personal one.”
Giovanni turned around and looked at Emory. “What are you talking about?”
“When did Joelle quit?” she asked instead of answering him.
Giovanni shrugged. “I think Rem said a few days after the fire.”
Emory covered her opened mouth with her right hand while reading the article she pulled up online on her phone. “Oh. My. God. I know why she quit.”
“Why?”
Emory stood up, walked over near Giovanni and handed him her phone. He silently read the article that she’d pulled up:
Three Dead in Early Sunday Morning Fire
HENDERSONVILLE, N.C. – Six fire trucks from Hendersonville and neighboring city departments worked tirelessly to put out a 2:00 a.m. blaze on Hunters Lane that claimed the lives of Gerard Bannon, his wife, Susie Bannon and their youngest daughter, Lindsay Bannon. The oldest daughter, Joelle Bannon was transported to the hospital with third-degree burns covering at least thirty percent of her body according to authorities. While it looks like the fire may have started in the garage, it is still under investigation at this time.
- - - - - -
Speechless Giovanni stood there, re-reading the article over and over again.
“So that’s why she quit,” Emory said. “The fire must’ve triggered bad memories.”
He handed Emory her phone back and sat down again. “It’s much deeper than I thought,” he said. “Maybe I should just leave her alone.”
“No, you shouldn’t. You should use this information to your advantage. I know that sounds horrible, but hear me out. Now that you know why she quit, don’t offer her the job back. Just persuade her to give you all her tips and secrets on how she was able to keep the hotel profitable and maybe offer her a consultation fee or something. Come on, Vanni. You know how to do this better than me.”
“I don’t think so. Maybe you should be the one to handle it.”
Emory laughed.
“I hear you, though,” Giovanni said. “Looks like I’ll be taking another shot at this.”
“That’s the spirit,” Emory told him.
Chapter 4
Giovanni sat outside of Island Street Deli in his car, eating a cheeseburger. He picked up food on the way to the deli because he didn’t want to eat there today. He needed to talk. To Joelle. He knew she took her work breaks a little after 2:00 p.m., and when the weather was pleasant like it was today, she’d sit outside on the patio and read a book while she ate her lunch.
He smiled when he watched her step outside on the patio, sit at one of the black, iron-wrought tables and take a bite of her sandwich. He glanced at his watch.
Right on time.
He watched as she crossed her legs and began reading. He had a new perspective on Joelle Bannon especially after reading about the fire that took her family’s life. It must’ve been a painful reminder for her to experience the fire at the lodge after being the sole survivor of a house fire. The lodge fire wasn’t a massive fire but even still, it probably triggered bad memories for her.
Reasoning that Emory was right about Joelle not wanting to work at Smoky Mountain Lodge again no matter how much money he offered her, his new plan of action was to get her to be a consultant instead.
He pushed his car door open and said, “Here goes nothing.”
In business casual attire today – khaki’s and a business logo imprinted, hunter green polo – he walked over to her table and took the liberty of sitting directly across from her.
She looked up at him and quickly returned her attention back to her book.
He smiled. Just the glimpse of her coffee brown eyes had him reading them. Seeing things he hadn’t seen when he talked to her yesterday. It’s funny how your opinion of people changed when you understood the reason for certain behaviors and attitudes. He was getting the picture about hers.
“Hi, Joelle.”
In one, long irritated breath, she said, “I only get thirty minutes for lunch, and I like to read. I don’t have time to talk to you, and no, I’m not going back to the lodge. I told Remington that already.”
“I’m not here to ask you to come back to the lodge. Wait, first of all, let me apologize for interrupting your lunch.”
She frowned and expelled a breath. Now, she’d have to reread the two pages she had managed to read before she was rudely interrupted. “Will you get to the point?”
“I need your help. I want to pick your brain about the lodge. It was the most successful hotel in our family of hotels and since you left, it’s been und
erperforming. I was hoping that you would be a consultant…give me a layout of things you did…your daily duties there…that sort of thing.”
Shaking her head, Joelle said, “I already have a job. I wouldn’t have time for that, too, even if I wanted to do it, which, by the way, I don’t.”
“Hear me out—I would only need you for about an hour a day, and I’ll be willing to pay you a hundred dollars per session.”
“A hundred dollars?”
“Yes. You heard me right.”
Joelle laughed. “This is hilarious.”
“What’s so funny about it?” Giovanni asked, not following her humor.
“When I was working for you guys, I made the same raggedy nine dollars and fifty cents an hour for, not one year. Not two, but ten years! Now you want to overpay me for an hour worth of work.” She laughed more. “You corporate people crack me up. For real.”
“Well, since we underpaid you for ten years, don’t you think you deserve what I’m offering.”
Her eyes narrowed. “And that’s supposed to make up for ten years of corporate slavery?”
“Corporate slavery? Don’t you think that’s a little harsh? After all, no one made you stay for ten years, but even so, something tells me that working at the lodge wasn’t about the money for you, Jojo.”
“It’s Joelle, and what tells you that? A sixth sense? Let me guess…you see dead people, too.”
He smirked. Chocolate lil’ mouthy thang had a sense of humor. He’d rock with it, or let it roll off his back. She wouldn’t deter him. “Not a sixth sense, but a fact. I’ve done my homework and I cannot find any records of you ever asking for a raise. Ever. I got you—I mean, your record spread all over my desk.”
“I—” She hesitated.
“You, what?”
“Nothing,” Joelle said. What was the point of telling him about her former manager, Kevin Knicely and how the idiot of a manager would put on a front like he knew what he was doing whenever management was around and when no one was there, he’d be a lazy, stiff-walking bum? And he claimed to have this degree, that degree as well as some military training, but the man didn’t have not one brain cell. Not a one. And that’s who they hired to be a manager…
“Anyway, think about my offer. I’ll be back tomorrow, or if you make up your mind before then, here’s my card. Give me a call.” He placed his business card on the table. “Have a good day.”
She glared at him as he walked away. He was partially right. While she knew she was underpaid working at the lodge, it wasn’t about the money for her. It was about doing something to occupy her time so she didn’t have to think about the fire. She was sixteen years old when the fire happened, taking the lives of her parents and her sister who was thirteen years old at the time. She was too distraught to go to college. She’d barely made it out of high school. So, as a distraction, she began working at the lodge, learned the ins and outs of it and for ten years, it was all good. Then the fire happened, and she had to go. There was no way she was going back.
Chapter 5
“You don’t know how to stop working, do you?” Kierra asked, sipping on a wine cooler, watching Jojo sand down a table she’d found at a yard sale last weekend. Her client had specifically requested something antique, and she thought this would be the perfect piece for her.
“You know what they say about idle hands,” Jojo responded.
“Girl, please. I’m off work until Monday. That means these hands are going to be as idle as they can get.”
The women laughed.
Kierra had been Jojo’s friend since high school and her only real confidant after the fire. She would drive Jojo to her parent’s home – or what was left of it – every third Sunday of the month, something she’d done every year since Jojo’s parents and sister were killed in that awful fire. She thought the idea of visiting so frequently was damaging to Jojo, but who was she to tell her friend how to grieve? She just followed through. Jojo needed a friend and Kierra proved to be just that.
Jojo blew wood dust from the table and adjusted the clear goggles she was wearing.
“What color are you going to paint it, Jo?”
“I’m thinking about a pretty, light teal color.”
“Oh, that would be cute.”
“I hope so. This is my first order where I have to design a piece for a client.”
“But the client did give you some basic ideas, right?”
“Yeah, but they don’t want to stifle my creativity, so they let me, pretty much, do what I want. This particular client wanted something tropical that would fit the style of her sunroom.”
“Well, if it comes out like you said it would, this lil’ table will definitely have a tropical flair.”
“Yep.” Jojo sanded a rough spot, blew away the wood dust and rubbed her gloved hands across the wood to see if she would run into any snags.
“How much do you charge for these kinds of projects?” Kierra inquired.
“Since I had to do all the work for this one, including finding the table, stripping off the old paint, sanding, priming and repainting, it’s five-hundred.”
“Five hundred dollars!”
Jojo grinned. “Yes.”
“And she agreed to pay it?”
“Yep. I get half upfront and the other half when I deliver the product.”
“Wow. I am in the wrong business. That’s for sure.”
Jojo laughed.
“I don’t know how you work at that deli if you’re pulling in this kind of bread all on your own. Clearly, this is what you’re supposed to be doing for a living, Jojo.”
“Not necessarily. I simply like staying busy. You know that. Keeps my mind off things. Plus, this work reminds me of dad.”
Kierra nodded and smiled softly.
“Right now, though, I need a break,” Joelle said, peeling off her gloves and moving the goggles to the top of her head like a headband. She flopped in the chair next to Kierra.
“Here you go,” Kierra said, handing her a wine cooler.
“Thanks,” she said, opening it, taking a swig.
“Welcome,” Kierra said. “You know you got sawdust all over your face, right?”
Jojo laughed. “It’ll come off in the wash.” She took a long sip of her drink. Then, after thinking quietly for a few minutes, debating whether she wanted to bring up the subject, she decided to go for it and say, “You would never guess who I got a visit from yesterday.”
“You’re right. I wouldn’t so tell me,” Kierra said.
“Giovanni Lennox.”
Kierra sat straight up in her chair. “Giovanni Lennox as in Lennox Enterprises? As in the heartthrob who got these white women ‘round here wanting to go black and never go back?”
Jojo grinned. “Okay, not sure about all that, but yes, Giovanni.”
“Girl, didn’t you just tell me his brother Remington came to see you?”
“Yep.”
“They must want you back bad, huh?”
“I wouldn’t go that far.”
“I would, especially now that they’ve done brought out the big guns.”
Jojo laughed. “The big guns? What are you talking about, Kierra?”
“I’m talking about Giovanni Lennox. Hello! Mr. Dreamy himself. All these women ‘round here talking about how fine the Lennox men are, but not only is Giovanni Lennox fine, he got game, and he’s hilarious. He can convince any woman of just about anything. And women can resist a fine man who keeps them laughing. He’s the triple-threat or treat depending on how you wanna look at it.”
“You’re a fool.” Jojo shook her head, smiling. Fine or not, Giovanni wouldn’t be convincing her of anything.
“Have you seen him smile?” Kierra asked.
“What?”
“Have you seen Giovanni smile?”
Jojo thought about how Giovanni had the nerve to flash that gorgeous smile of his at the restaurant today. “Unfortunately, yes.”
“Tell me you saw that crater o
n the side of his face. People love dimples, especially on handsome men and cute babies.”
“If you say so,” Jojo replied nonchalantly.
“So, what did Giovanni want? Your number?”
“Hardly. He wants me to be a consultant to Lennox Enterprises for a month, reporting directly to him on how I ran Smoky Mountain Lodge, because you know I ran it.”
“Oh, yes, I know. You used to complain about that manager all the time.”
“Yep.”
“I suppose, now that you’ve been gone for a while, they see who was really running thangs.”
“Exactly. Giovanni was giving me the spill about how the lodge went from one of the top performing to the lowest performing, all in the period since I’ve been gone. He offered me a hundred bucks for one hour per day for a month.”
Kierra’s eyebrows rose. “Do what?”
Jojo snickered. “You heard me correctly. One hundred dollars an hour.”
“Every day for a month?”
“Yep.”
“Are you going to do it?”
“I don’t think so. One thing I hate is when well-off people try to buy you by showing off their wealth. Like, where were you when I was working my tail off at your stupid hotel?”
“Shoot, girl. If I were you, I’d take the money and run. They owe you that money. Just tell them a lil’ something you think they want to hear about the lodge, then take your paper and bounce.”
Jojo chuckled. When she heard the doorbell, she stood up and told Kierra, “It’s probably my neighbor. She wanted me to paint a shutter gold and white. She’s going to put hooks on it and use it for her kitchen command station for keys and whatnot. Be right back.”
Jojo took the finished shutter from the broom closet and looked at it, feeling proud of her work. When the doorbell sounded again, she opened the door as she said, “It came out real nice…” Then her words became lost when she realized it wasn’t her neighbor after all. Far from it. Standing at her door at five-something in the evening was Giovanni.
