Page 7 of Teasing Her Grumpy Boss

She needed help. She flipped out her mobile, wincing at the single bar left on the battery indicator. Knowing she’d already IOU-ed the pre-pay provider and had about thirty seconds’ worth of time left. She pressed the number and hoped for the best. Fortunately Emma picked up straight away. ‘It’s me. I need your help. Phone me back on this number, will you?’ She rattled off the number, thankful her sister had scarily good mental recall.

A minute later the phone in the club rang.

‘Lucy, is everything okay?’

‘Yep. Actually, things are great. I got a job.’

‘Another one? Where are you now?’

‘Wellington.’

‘What happened to Nelson? I thought you liked it there?’

‘Oh. All those hours of sunshine. I started to go crazy.’

Emma’s laugh floated down the line. ‘Stir crazy, huh, Luce. When are you going to stick at something longer than a few weeks?’

‘When it rains men. This is a big job though—bar manager.’

‘Really? Fab. What do you need me for?’

‘I’ve got to get up to speed with the stock management systems and pay rolling and spreadsheets, Emma. Spreadsheets.’

She hated the things.

Emma laughed. ‘What systems are they using?’

Lucy looked at the computer and read out the programs on the desktop.

‘Piece of cake, Luce, you’ll crack them in no time,’ Emma encouraged. ‘Look, I’ve got a spare laptop. I’ll load the software on and send the guide with it by courier tomorrow.’

‘You’re a lifesaver.’ Lucy gave her the club address. ‘Controlling the ordering out front is no problem, it’s the backroom stuff I need the handle on.’

‘Good Lord, Luce. You know what?’

‘What?’

‘You sound motivated. Actually motivated.’

Lucy stared at Daniel Graydon’s business card. ‘I guess I am. I’m going to nail this job, Emma.’ Because it was the last thing he expected. Three weeks was time enough to prove a point. She wouldn’t just do the job, she’d shine. And once she had? Why, then she’d have a holiday.

‘Good for you.’

She hung up, buoyed by the brief conversation. She walked back into the bar and stood in the middle—surveying her new domain. The club was up one flight of stairs, darkened windows overlooking the busy downtown street. A large pool table stood in one corner. Cosy nooks and comfy seating scattered around the edges, a small dance floor on one side of the bar with the DJ stand on the far wall. The space was small, intimate. It was made for selected entrants. It should be exclusive. Hip. She’d target the young, urban, wealthy—fashion designers, media lovies, move technicians—and mingle them with the up-and-coming darlings of the political and judicial worlds. Wellington—New Zealand’s city of power and privilege, flavoured with a tough of Hollywood.

And cool. Undeniably cool. Lucy understood the power of cool. Not that she was, but she could fake it as well as the rest of them. She could spot a trend. She’d suggested themes and altered décor a little in many of the bars and hotel restaurants she’d worked at over the years—and been successful.

Back in the little office she rooted amongst the chaotic paperwork for a list of staff details and started dialing. An hour later and she’d contacted all but one of them. A couple had already found other work, thinking the club was to be closed for a while, but the others were keen to get back to it. It meant she was short, though—and missing a doorman. But she could work long hours to cover the gap and she knew of the perfect bouncer. She might have been out of town for a year but she had some old friends she knew she could call on. She’d do all the calling necessary to make this work.

Her new employer provided premium incentive. For whatever reason-probably desperation—he’d offered her the chance. More to the point he’d laid down a challenge. Now it was up to her. And her appreciation of his stud factor was going to have to take a back seat to her proving him wrong.

THREE

You find putting things in order satisfying

‘Pulltogetherthe files on the Simmonds case, will you?’ Daniel watched as Sarah, jerked up from contemplating her computer screen.

‘I’m going to work off site for a few hours. Maybe a few days.’

---