Page 83 of Tasty Cherry

“Let me know if you need anything! There are a few hitches in the organization that might need explaining.”

I turn to the drawers. Most of the labels are what Suze said. Applications. Timesheets with date ranges. Toward the back are more interesting ones. Exit interviews. Investigations. Contracts. Violations. These are locked.

I try not to imagine printed screenshots of me and Sebastian in one of those cabinets and open the first folder stacked on top of the cabinets. “Intern finalists.” Huh. These were clearly passed around, as there are multiple handwritten notes on them.

I don’t look too closely as I head to the cabinet for applications. There are sections for Housekeeping, Kitchen, Security, Maintenance, Guest Relations, and Professional.

I check Guest Relations, but that’s room service, front desk and bellboys.

I head into the section for Professional. This is for management, accounting, operations, tech, and internships. I find a folder marked “Interns.” It’s thick with all the people who didn’t make the final cut.

My phone buzzes in my pocket. I’m not sure how the others feel about me using a cell on the clock.

At the front desk, nobody dared to pull one out unless they were on break. Other than Aisha. She would flaunt hers when the lobby was empty and announce whatever was happening. “Just got a text from Ray! He wants to get pizza. What you all think? Cosmo’s or Nick-N-Willy’s?”

I face away from the other HR staff, folder in hand and a drawer pulled to look busy at a glance. Then I take a peek.

It’s Sebastian.

He’s a mess.

That’s all he’ll say, I bet. And I get it. We’re in that place where personal and professional cross.

I’ve only gotten halfway through alphabetizing the finalists when there’s a commotion in the hall. A male voice is yelling.

Suze looks at the others. “What in the world?”

She circles her desk to peer out the door, then turns back. “It’s that good-looking intern.”

Emily hurries forward. She’s young, mid-twenties, and wearing a form-fitting sweater dress I could never pull off. “Maverick?”

Suze nods.

The two of them peer out the door.

I’m painfully curious, although Georgia remains at her seat, so probably I should as well.

Suze turns to us. “He’s yelling at Raya!”

And then we don’t need a play-by-play, because Maverick’s voice is loud and clear. “I’m not taking that stupid test again. You can shove it up your ass!”

Suze steps back as he passes, a mere blur in the gap.

“Oh my!” Suze says.

Then, she rushes back to her seat, and so does Emily, who scurries to her desk.

Moments later, Raya bursts into the room. “Where is Jessie?”

Suze looks up as if nothing has happened. “She’s at an appointment this morning. We expect her back around eleven.”

“Tell her to call me the minute she returns.”

I focus on my folder until she’s gone.

The women all abuzz with excitement.

“Maverick’s going to get his butt fired,” Georgia says, shaking a head full of braids. “He’s done screwed the pooch with Raya.”

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