Page 109 of The Playboy

I huffed, my body frozen, as though I were standing on a tightrope. “You want to hear my ideas?”

“I want nothing more.”

My face turned, looking at her from almost my profile. “You’re not kicking me out of this interview because I lied on my résumé?”

“We both know you would have gotten this interview whether you lied on your résumé or not.” She glanced toward the door and then the window before her eyes returned to me. “The foundation of my relationship has some similarities to yours. One day, over a very large glass of wine, I’ll tell you the whole story.”

The knot was still in my chest, another in my throat, but her statement was easing out the tension, like she was massaging them away.

“I hope, more than anything, that we get to have that wine together.”

She gave me a half smile. “I can understand your feelings and why you didn’t tell him and how that carried forward to now.” She reached across the table even though she wasn’t anywhere close to my hand. “At least to me, you came clean almost immediately, so I can’t really say you lied to me. Your résumé, well, that’s a different story.” She quieted for a moment. “It took a lot of courage to come clean in the middle of an interview when you just met me. I know it wasn’t easy. I give you a lot of credit for that.”

I nodded. “I really didn’t expect you to react this way. I was thinking just the opposite.”

She moved her hand back and held her engagement ring, circling the massive diamond around her finger. “You know, it takes someone who’s been in familiar shoes to understand. Sympathize even.” She halted the twisting of her ring. “Our scenarios aren’t identical by any means, but I knew who my fiancé was long before he knew who I was—and at the time, my last name would have mattered to him.”

“Ahhh. Got it.”

“Yes.” She nodded. “So, I happen to know a little something about revealing who you are and what you want the other person to know.”

“I have to tell Macon …”

“You do,” she agreed. “And that’s coming from someone who knows the repercussions of lying.”

This conversation had turned so personal, diverting in a direction that wasn’t even close to the original question that had been asked. I was afraid Jo wasn’t seeing why I wanted this job and why, in my mind, I was perfect for it.

“Thank you for being so kind and patient with me.”

She crossed her arms over the table. “As soon as he told me about you, I had a feeling I was going to like you. I don’t know why, it was just something in my gut. I still feel that way, Brooklyn. And if anything, that feeling has grown.”

Now, more than ever, I needed to show her why she should want to hire me. Why I wouldn’t let her down in this role. That despite a rocky start, I was someone she could trust.

I set my hands on the table and focused on her eyes. “I want to tell you about me. Is that okay?”

“Please, I’m dying to hear everything.” She pulled my résumé back in front of her, a pen now ready in her hand.

I let out a small laugh, which was needed. “When I moved to Kauai, I wanted a job that was mindless. Where I could complete my tasks without someone looking over my shoulder and where I didn’t have to constantly wear a smile on my face. I’m not saying I have resting bitch face”—I winced, making sure it was all right to go there, and when she grinned, I knew it was fine—“but most of the time, I’m deep in thought, thinking about school and homework and bills, and none of that makes me smile.”

“Those wouldn’t make anyone smile, girl.”

“Right? Anyway, within a week, I realized it wasn’t a mindless job at all. I was in a position where I could make a guest smile. Where I could go the extra mile to get them things that they didn’t know they wanted or needed. That became important to me, and eventually, it was recognized by my manager, and I was promoted to the suite level, where I’ve been ever since. But it was around that time when things within our department stopped making sense to me.”

I crossed my legs, relaxing my arms. “From what I’ve calculated, the average stay is five nights. Our policy is to change bedsheets after a guest has been with us for four nights. Why flip the sheets after four and then flip them again a day later? Then, there’s the towels. If they’ve been used and are hanging on a rack, we’re required to replace them. But if they’re still clean, why can’t we swap them out after a second use? All of this takes extra time, unnecessary labor, and it’s money wasted.”

“I like where you’re going. Tell me more.”

“Our hotel provides sewing kits. Guests almost always take them home with them, and if I had to place a wager, they go unused. Now, someone in the marketing department could argue that when the guest has a button pop off their pants in three months, it’s brand recognition when they pull out the sewing kit, and that can trigger a rebooking, a referral to a friend or neighbor since the vacation will be refreshed in their mind. But based on our demographic of guests—and Spade Hotel guests—are they really sewing their own buttons, or are they taking their pants to a tailor?”

She wrote another note on my résumé and said, “We provide sewing kits.”

“Move them to suite level only as a bonus bathroom amenity, offering a larger collection of toiletries to those spending top dollar, or eliminate them completely. The savings by keeping them in just your suites would be tremendous.”

“I’ll bring it up in our executive-level meeting tomorrow.”

“Really?” My hand went to my chest. “That makes me so happy.” I moved closer to the table, the energy now pulsing through me. “Here’s another item you can mention. I assume your housekeepers have a checklist of things they must clean in each room, and they’re trained on how to clean them properly, but there’s no control over the supplies. Window spray and polish, room scent spray—so much gets wasted. And on our carts, the squeegees don’t have a holder, so they often fall off and get rolled over and ruined.”

“What’s your solution?”

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