Good Time(59)

Chapter Thirty





On Saturday I decide enough is enough. Winners never quit and quitters never win. Fine, I don’t decide that at all, but I have to go to work. Because today is the hotel’s grand opening gala and since I work in event planning, it’s imperative that I’m there. Everyone in my department has a shift they need to cover today. I’m in charge of overseeing valet services from four till eight this evening.

I know, lame.

I don’t even know anything about valet services, not really. But one member of the event planning staff will be stationed throughout the hotel for the entire day. Just on standby, really. I don’t have to do anything but be on hand in case there’s a car parking emergency.

Like I said, lame.

Someday I’ll get the good assignments, like being the point person for the pop star who was hired to perform tonight. Until then, I’ll rock the hell out of making sure everyone in valet services is hustling this afternoon and if an emergency arrives I’ll be there to take care of it. By take care of it I mean I’ll call my boss and relay what’s happening. That’s really the entirety of my assignment today.

Maybe I’ll use the time to matchmake via Instagram. I’m sure at least one of the valet guys could use my help, so the afternoon won’t be a total waste. And afterwards I can attend the gala myself. Not that I’m really in the mood, not at all, but I’ll go to see Lydia. She’ll be there with Rhys and I’m sure he’ll be busy and I’ll get a few minutes to catch up with her and see how things are going between them.

So onwards and upwards and all that.

Vince texted and said he’d be home today. I’ll be home on Saturday, the text read. I took it to mean he’d be flying home from Reno sometime on Saturday and would probably go to his place. Of course he’d go to his place, it’s not as if he has things at my place. I’m sure we’ll get together sometime this weekend and talk. God, I’m not in the mood for talking. The only talking I want to do is getting-to-know-you talking, not breaking-up-with-you talking. I’m not interested in that kind of talking, not at all.

But for today, work. Then the gala. Then I’ll figure out what Vince and I are doing. I shower and do my hair, sweeping my hair up into a high bun. I spend extra time on my makeup and then select a fairly demure blush-colored dress that will work for both my afternoon responsibilities and as much of the gala that I want to stay at. It’s got three-quarter sleeves and the skirt hits me mid-thigh. I slip my feet in a pair of nude heels and examine my reflection in the mirror.

I look very wife-y if I say so myself. It’s a waste because Vince won’t be seeing me tonight. Not unless he calls to apologize for having his ex-girlfriend submit our annulment paperwork, tells me he loves me and invites me over to sit on his face. I’m a bit of a dreamer so I primped and put on good underwear just in case.

On the way to work I swing through the Del Taco drive-thru to get an iced java and the first sip reminds me of Vince. It’s stupid—I’ve had Del Taco with him once and without him forty or more times. Yet the second I take the first sip I remember that he brought me tacos. Tacos and my favorite iced coffee even though I drive him nuts when I rattle the ice around the cup.

When I get to work I park in the employee section of the garage and stop by my department to check in before I head down to valet. Honestly, I lucked out with this early coverage of the opening. The event isn’t really kicking off until eight so I’ve got a while until things start hopping. I find the administrative offices closest to the valet area and introduce myself to the team lead, letting her know to holler if she needs anything. Then I find a place to observe while staying out of the way, sip my iced coffee and catch up on a few games of Words with Friends on my cell.

My game is interrupted by a text from Canon.

Canon: Nice dress. Very wifely.





I glance around, expecting to see him lounging against a wall somewhere, but I can’t see him. That’s when I realize he’s watching me on a security camera.

Payton: Are you watching me on camera? Seriously, you need help.





Canon: ikr? I think I have a surveillance fetish.





Payton: you’re fucking weird. Tell me where the camera is so I can flip you off.





Canon: Pfft. Where isn’t the camera is more like it.





Payton: Weirdo.





Canon: I’m not the one who just played a two-letter word for five points. Have some pride.





Payton: you can see that?!?!?!





Canon: I can see everrrrrything from my surveillance kingdom.





Payton: …





Canon: I’ve got a pop star and a former president due to arrive in the next hour. They were told to use the private entrance under the west parking garage, but if they miss the turn they may head for valet. Heads up.





Payton: thanks.





I spend the next few hours doing nothing because valet services really doesn’t need any help. The parking garage for self-park and valet is nowhere near capacity and valet is on top of things, grabbing keys and handing out tickets within thirty seconds of each car that pulls in. It turns out that there is slightly more to my responsibilities than keeping an eye on any car parking emergencies. I’m also standing by in case a VIP guest needs something between their car and the lobby, where they’re being greeted by a VIP liaison. As you’d expect, no one has needed anything during their twenty-foot walk to the door, so I’m mostly people-watching. The only celebrities arriving this early have been newspeople. I spotted an anchor from CNN and a reality TV star-turned-red carpet host for the E! Network, but otherwise, nada. Mark is overseeing valet from eight till midnight so I’m hovering near the valet desk people, watching and waiting on Mark to show up so I can hand over the reins.