Melina Marchetta
After relaxing for a few days, things more or less went back to normal. The statue I’d destroyed was replaced, and my car repaired. Moses’ face was stitched up, and no one had their nose in my business any longer. Just the way I liked it.
I ran my fingers over the white lilies in the ornate vase in my hotel's lobby area. LeJeune Suites is one of the largest and most exclusive hotel chains on the globe. When you hear Hilton and Four Seasons, Lejeune Suites is not far behind in the conversation. With all the hotels combined, the profits were anywhere from fifty to eight million dollars a year, and this was only one of the almost dozen companies my family created. LeJeune Suites was at the top because the entire experience, from the moment their luxury car pulled up to our curb to the way the seat on the toilet curved to cup their ass, was perfect.
White lilies were not going to fucking cut it.
I walked up to the concierge desk, “Who put those flowers in the main walkway?”
The beautiful woman behind the counter looked over my shoulder, recognition dawning on her face followed by a big smile in my direction. “Oh, that was me, sir. The florist didn’t have the orchids originally ordered, so I told them to bring lilies instead. They’re my favorite flower, so beautiful, and the scent is so soothing.”
“Yeah? Wow, that was an executive decision, especially for someone with your job title.” I responded, keeping my voice light.
“Well, you know, sometimes things just need to get done.” She nodded her head firmly once. Clearly, she was pleased with herself and thought I was impressed.
“Indeed, I can agree with that. Sometimes things just need to get done. For instance,” I leaned in closer, finally letting my displeasure show. “You need to be fired for being such a colossal fuck up. Let’s get that done, shall we? Get your low brow crap and get out of my hotel. Do it quickly, or I will have security throw you and your stuff out on the street.”
She gasped loudly, completely in shock. It was no secret the staff turnover rate was so high with my company. I’m not even sure any of the employees have passed the three-month probation period for healthcare benefits. There were a select few in every location who had been there a while. Everyone else was expendable.
“Move! Now!” I growled, causing her to jump and gather her things. Even as the tears slid down her face, I didn’t feel even the slightest drop of sympathy.
I plucked out my cell phone from my pocket and dialed Helena. Moses took care of me personally while Helena took care of me professionally. She was my assistant, and as much as I didn’t want to admit it, she was a damn good one.
She picked up on the second ring. “Yes, sir?”
“We need a new receptionist for the concierge desk at the Sacramento hotel, and I need a shipment of white orchids right away to replace these god awful lilies.”
“Yes, sir. Do you want to hear the rest of your schedule for the day, or would you rather I call you at your normal time?” She asked efficiently.
“Yeah, hurry up.” I walked over to the elevator bay and pressed for a car. I listened halfheartedly to Helena as she started rambling about what other responsibilities I had on my calendar. The elevator shot me up quickly to my presidential suite. It was private and never used by anyone besides me.
I dropped my briefcase and my overcoat onto the fainting couch before making my way over to the large stocked bar and pulled out a crystal decanter. I could go for an Irish Coffee right now.
“Oza and his crew are saying that manufacturing of the Honeyswell 300 is at a standstill because of a supply problem.”
I walked into the kitchen, knowing I’d need an Irish Coffee to get me through the rest of this conversation, and pulled the pot out, slammed it on the stove, and retrieved the other ingredients from the cupboard. This drink didn’t call for as much whiskey, but who was counting, anyway. I was sure the drink would ease the frustration starting to build. “What do you mean a supply problem? I manufacture all the supplies. There should be no problem getting the supplies from one company to the other. It’s ridiculous.”
“Yes, sir, but you’ve already promised Mr. Sugrue his company would be able to buy the cabin paneling for his cruise ship fleet. At this point, there’s just no way to make enough as quickly as we are using it. That’s the holdup.”
One of the many businesses in the LeJeune corporation was building and manufacturing luxury yachts and ship supplies. The Honeyswell 300 would be our biggest luxury yacht to date when she was done. The entire vessel would include fourteen bedrooms, a full kitchen with a sit-in dining area, onboard pool, dance club, helipad, attached plexiglass cage for viewing marine life, sauna, and not to mention the one hundred and sixty feet of deck for them to entertain guests. Only the most elite would have one of these; that meant I had to have the first one.
“I don’t care if they all have to work doubles to get the supplies completed. I want the Honeyswell completed on schedule. I already have a Shiek in Abu Dhabi on the waiting list, and I am tired of having to tell him it’s still in production.”
“Yes, sir. I will let them know at the warehouse overtime has been authorized.”
“No, not overtime, increase the demand, and if the workers can’t keep up, get rid of them and get workers that can. I am not running a fucking daycare center over there. I pay them to work and work hard.” I took the whiskey, sugar, and coffee mixture off the stove to pour into my mug. I added my cream and sipped at the lush beverage.
“As you wish, sir. Lastly, I have cleared your afternoon for your visit.”
“My visit with who?” I asked as I tried to gulp down the hot beverage.
“Your visit with your mother. Today is the last day of the quarter.”
I closed my eyes and could feel my hand squeezing the phone against my ear. “Fuck.” I tried to calm myself down, but no matter how many deep breaths I told myself to take, I couldn’t. I swiped the hot coffee from the tabletop onto the floor. “Goddamit!” I yelled as I slammed the hand with the phone in it on the tabletop, cracking the screen.
Visiting my mother was the last thing I wanted to do. In fact, I’d rather have pinecones shoved up my ass than see her, but I had no choice. It was a stipulation in the fucked up trust my father set up when he handed the business over to me and went to find himself. The pussy.
My father, the great and powerful Argo LeJeune, signed over his entire estate, every single one of his businesses, and all of his assets to me the minute I turned seventeen years old in the form of a trust I’d run until I was thirty-five years old.
The conditions in the trust were all lengthy and ironclad. I had to be of sound mind to keep the company, visit my mother once a quarter, stay out of prison, and have board members watching my every move. Headquarters needed to be kept in Europe and the United States, and I had to run the company myself. The list was endless, but I'd lose everything if I went against anything in the trust. Not just the businesses but the money, the houses, even the fucking clothes out of my closet. I would be left with twenty thousand dollars, and a see you in the next life.
I tried from the very beginning to get out of seeing my mother, even had medical professionals say that me going to see her would put me in a vulnerable state of mind, but the bloodsucking attorneys never let up. So now, once every three months, I had to stop whatever the hell I was doing and see my mother.