It was the kick back to reality I needed—for now—as I stuck my hand out and hailed down a yellow cab with an added whistle for flair.
I jumped in and shut the door before he drove off. “Central Park west mate, between 61st and 62nd and if you can do it in half the time and hold a place in a drop-off zone for fifteen minutes whilst I run up and change, I’ll double this,” I instructed as I handed across a hundred-dollar bill into his outheld hand.
“I’ll wait for ten for the hundred,” he grouched as if I hadn’t just paid him four-times the fare he should’ve received as he began to weave through the traffic as drivers beeped their horns around us. “Another fifty and I’ll do fifteen. You know what the door staff are like around there.”
“True. I’ll speak to Harold on the door and give you another fifty…” He shot his hand out as we came to a standstill at a red light. “…If we make the time as promised.”
“Deal,” he chirped back. “Through these lights, and then just two lefts and a right. Avoid all the main roads and it will give you access…”
“To the less busy side for parking. I like your way of thinking.”
“Got to be smart if I want to earn that dollar with a wife and baby at home,” he admitted as he pulled up in an empty bay and grabbedThe New York Timesnext to him before opening to the sports section. “Clock’s ticking, fifteen minutes.”
“Here…” I reached over to hand him the promised money and he shook his head from left to right. “You made a promise; a man keeps his word. Yes?”
“Yes.” I nodded.
“Well, fourteen minutes then…”
“Freddie, you can call me Freddie.”
“Edward, but call me Ed.” He chuckled as he shook the crease that had formed in his paper and pushed up the spectacles that had dropped low onto his nose back up to the bridge where they belonged.
I headed around the corner as fast as I could, glad that I kept a freshly pressed suit in the single wardrobe for emergencies. It may not be a party or a fine dining gathering, but time was of the essence. I’d rather be an overdressed twat at work than underdressed and out of a career. Chrissie was right to give me a stern talking to. I had to at least be seen trying to make an effort instead of destroying everything.
I spotted Harold on the door and slipped in with a quick wave of the hand as a greeting when he opened the door as I entered the vast entrance of the building. Normally, I’d have taken my time and admired the building’s listed architecture—one of the reasons I’d invested in this building—but time wasn’t on my side.
I hit the up button next to the elevator, glad that no one was waiting, and slid inside the moment the doors opened. I pressed the button for the thirty-second floor multiple times the moment the door closed, knowing deep down it wouldn’t move any faster, and tapped my foot.
Patience, Freddie, patience.
The moment the doors opened, I grabbed my key card out of my back pocket and headed straight to my apartment. I opened the door and went immediately to the wardrobe where I knew my emergency suit hung. With no time to spare, I dragged my clothes off at warp speed and threw them in an upheaval mess against the chair in the corner of my room. I’d regret that later when the creases wouldn’t budge.
“Isobel and Chrissie are going to get a kick out of this. This suit is too good for a night working reception. If I mess it up, they’re gonna love it,” I muttered to myself as I fastened the final button I’d been willing to do up and fixed the open collar. I slid on my less fancy loafers, hoping to downplay the expense slightly, and grabbed the expensive hand-stitched jacket in my hand and tucked it over my arm. With my key card and wallet in my pocket, I raced back to Ed just as he placed his folded paper on the chair next to him and tapped his watch.
“You’re lucky I was engrossed in that article. You’re a shit timekeeper. Where are we off to?”
I jumped in and glanced at my watch, and grimaced. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to take so long. The Wilden, please.”
“It’s fine. Just take my number after should you need any other last-minute jobs.” He chuckled as he began the journey toward the hotel.
I just hoped Isobel and Chrissie would be as lenient with me as Ed had.
The moment I stepped into The Wilden, my heart plummeted in my chest. I hadn’t even made it halfway across the entrance way before I saw the entourage head in my direction.Fuck.
I kept my head held high as Derrick Granbler, or Del as we knew him, the man currently standing in Dawson’s shoes whilst he was away, met me on my way to the reception desk with Isobel and Chrissie’s darted gazes burning straight into me.
“Mr. Granbler, I’m sorry…” I started as I caught his eye.
“Ah, Mr. Petterson, I hopeyou’vedealt with the emergency at home,” he interrupted. “Yourfriendswere happy to inform me of your predicament. In future though, please could you let me know? It would make running this establishment much easier. I assume Mr. Parker wouldn’t have allowed for this type ofproblemwithout repercussions.”
“No, he wouldn’t,” I agreed. I knew he’d played along with the bullshit spouted by the girls to cover my tracks—he wasn’t a fool, though, and he knew it. This was a subtle warning to pull my act together, and I knew it would be the last before Mr. Parker was informed. “Del,” I started. “Sorry, Mr. Granbler.” He smirked at me as I shrugged my shoulders. “Mark says he’s happy at Keyo. He’s just had a promotion, but thanks for the offer of the vacancy at The Wilden Bar.”
“It’s a good thing he can’t. I’ve just employed someone on an external vacancy. I’m excited to see what he can bring to the team,” he uttered back. “Isobel could do with a hand with the reservation bookings for later, Freddie.”
“Got ya, thanks.”
I headed over to the desk and hung my jacket across the back of the swivel chair I sat at and shuddered at the silk lining rubbing against the fabric edge.