Desk of Desperation - Ch. 3 (August 2024 Story)

Grace sat in the lobby by the café reading after her shifted ended. She was absorbed into reading Northanger Abbey, the last on her list of Jane Austen books to read. She heard a familiar group of laughter and glanced up to spot Mr. Perry and his business associates. They were coming from the bar and most of the older men appeared drunk with flushed cheeks. Grace slid further down in her seat in an attempt to hide herself further behind her book. They walked past without incident, until Mr. Perry said, “Sitting like that is bad for your back.”

            Grace slid the book down to see him standing over her, half-smirking. She ignored his comment and jerked a look towards the older men.

            “Seems like business is going well. Don’t you have to catch up with them?”

            Mr. Perry dismissed the thought with a smug grin. “We’re done for the day.” He eyed her and for a moment she thought he was going to pass some terrible comment when instead he said, “Northanger Abbey. Nice. I think it’s obvious though that it was her first book compared to the others. It doesn’t have the same finesse as her later work.”

            Grace raised both brows. “You’ve read Austen?”

            “Yes. I’d say Mansfield Park is my favorite.”

            Grave was at a loss for words, something she was not used to. An intrusive thought speared through that said, “I’d let this man touch me if he asked.”

            “That’s an interesting choice,” she said. “Why that one?”

            Mr. Perry shrugged. “It was…different. More in depth on morality and complexity. Stuck out like a sore thumb among the others. Which is your favorite?”

            “Emma,” she said, not skipping a beat.

            Mr. Perry chuckled. “You do strike me as an Emma.”

            “What’s that supposed to mean?” Grace wasn’t sure whether to take that as a compliment or not. While most people enjoyed Emma, critics complained of her insufferable self-righteous character.

            Mr. Perry smirked again. Grace started to feel a little weak by that half-smirk. He had a certain charm with his smirks that was, quite frankly, attractive. He said, “Dunno. You just strike me as an Emma. But I could be wrong. Maybe…” He danced around his next words. Grace got the feeling he was going to ask her out. Men always had some kind of awkward tell whenever they were about to ask a woman a big question. “Maybe I’ll see if I’m really right or not over a drink. Or something of the sort.”

            “Maybe,” Grace said. “But as of right now I have to go back home after another chapter.”

            “Maybe tomorrow then? I only have four days left.”

            “That’s quite a long conference.”

            “I saved a day for sightseeing. Been ages since I stepped into the city.”

            “Ask me again tomorrow around this time.”

            He nodded. “All right. Later then.”

            Mr. Perry walked off with a semi-dazed look on his face, a look that told Grace he was maybe a bit too hopeful that were going to have a drink tomorrow. A “maybe” for a man typically meant a “yes”, at least they couldn’t help but think a “yes” would come up sooner or later. Mr. Perry looked so lost in his daydreaming that he bumped into someone one the way out, having been stealing several glances at Grace.

            Grace found it amusing and even cute, though she still harbored caution. She wasn’t sure yet where to pin him on the spectrum between toxic male and okay guy. The suit-and-tie business vibe worried her. She had assumed he was one of those no-nonsense, need-to-feel-productive, only-reads-finance, stock finance “bros”. But the fact that he knew things about Jane Austen novels threw her into a loop. The more she thought about it the more intrigued she became with him. She had to reread the same page three times because she had kept thinking about it.

#

            The next morning started out wrong.

Grace overslept and missed her subway. The extra ten minutes of waiting for the next line cascaded into chaos. She arrived at the front desk with a customer already waiting. A middle-aged woman wearing sunglasses and a striking trench coat had flagged down Harry asking for an explanation. Grace could tell by Harry’s body language that the woman was getting agitated. When Harry glanced over her shoulder, he said aloud, “Here she is, ma’am. We will take care of you right away.”

            Grace muttered a curse under her breath. She gulped down the rest of her coffee, but as she walked through the door to get behind the counter, she bumped her elbow sharply and that resulted in her spilling some coffee on her blouse – white blouse.

            “Ah, shiiiit,” Grace blurted.

            “Excuse me?”

            The woman hadn’t taken her sunglasses off. She held her expensive handbag in the pit of her elbow.

            “Sorry, ma’am. How may I help you?” Grace began mindlessly wiping at the dark brown stain on her blouse.

            “You could have helped me ten minutes ago already.”

            “Sorry, ma’am. How may I help you now?’

            The woman dug into her handbag and whipped out a Tide wipe to offer her – all in one swift lightning-fast motion. Grace stared at it for a few seconds. The woman said sharply, “You can start by looking presentable.”

            “T-thank you.”

            The Tide wipe worked, albeit a little. She would definitely have to put this through the wash. Grace gave up on trying to dab it out and held her hand pressing up against it while attending to the woman.

            “How may I help you?’

            “You already asked that. Twice.”

            “Are you checking in?”

            The woman waved her hands in a dismissive, angry gesture. “Obviously.”

            This bitch…I’m trying so hard not to talk back right now…

            “Your name, please?’

            The woman lowered her sunglasses, revealing green eyes. “Are you serious right now?”

            Grace blanked. Did she know this woman? Something did strike her as vaguely familiar. But it was too late to correct herself. The damage had been done. Clearly this woman had an ego the size of the United States. She had thought it was a little strange that this woman appeared almost incognito, wearing a trench coat, wide-brimmed hat, and sunglasses.

            “Sorry. Name please?”

            “Do I really need to say it out loud?’

            Grace sighed, maybe a little too heavily. “Ma’am, I can’t look you up unless you let me know your name.”

            The woman snapped, “The audacity.” She dug into her handbag again and slapped her driver’s license on the counter. Grace looked at the photo of a blank-faced dirty blond-haired woman with strikingly pointed features and green eyes. Her name was Margaret Landrum. The spark of recognition still failed to ignite. Grace went ahead typing without asking any further questions. The faster she got through this customer, the better.

            Grace realized she must have been extremely rich, given that her booking was for a week at the most expensive suite. The total coast was close to ten-thousand dollars.

            Grace handed the mysterious woman her key card. In the midst of Grace telling her to have a good day, the woman abruptly left.

            It’s going to be one of THOSE days, isn’t it…

            Her growing anxiety was already making her stomach swirl. Even if she had coffee with lactose-free milk, her nervous farts would get the better of her unless she calmed down. Given the fact that she was caffeinated, that was most likely not going to happen.

            Several customers came and went staring at the stain on her blouse. She had to do something about it. When Harry came out of the elevators after helping a guest with luggage, she hissed at him, “Psst! Harry! Can you fetch me some club soda from the bar?” She motioned to the stain on her blouse. Harry understood and got her a small glass.

            “You alright, Ms. Andrews?”

            “Started on the wrong foot today, Harry. I already can’t wait to go home.”

            “MS. ANDREWSSSS.”

            Grace cringed at the voice of Mr. Muglia. Harry cleared his throat and retreated, giving Grace a pitying look and returning to his work. Mr. Muglia had appeared as of nowhere like the devil himself. She didn’t even know from which corner he came out of. Pure witchcraft. No, that would have been an insult to women. Pure wizardry. He slapped his hand on the counter in front of her.

            “Do you know who you just talked to?” he asked.

            Grace darted her eyes. “H-Harry?’

            “No,” Mr. Muglia replied loudly. “The most important customer we have had in ages. The woman you left waiting her for an hour.”

            Grace raised her brows. “A-an hour? Sir, I was only a few minutes---”

            Mr. Muglia slammed his hand on the counter. Grace jumped and was at a loss on what to say or do. She straightened and tensed at her boss’s face growing increasingly redder. “That was Margaret Landrum!” Grace knew that, of course, but she still drew a blank. She cursed herself for not having better recall. Mr. Muglia shot a finger at a picture behind her on the wall. “The MOVIE STAR? Winner of two Oscars? The Mission Bell? Tomorrow’s Grace? DO ANY OF THOSE RING A BELL?”

            Grace turned at the picture behind her. Sure enough, the woman was there laughing at the bar of the hotel with her arm around Harrison Ford.

            She put a hand to her mouth. “Oh…”

            “Yes! OH. I don’t know what’s up with you lately, Grace. Can you do this job? Can you do a simple front desk clerk job where you just need to stand there? That’s all I ask. Just stand there and look pretty. Okay?”

            A swirl of rage made Grace clench her fists. From her periphery, she could tell that other people were glancing, some even stopping to stare at Mr. Muglia ranting at her. Her rage then gave way to embarrassment. She couldn’t believe he was yelling at her like this in front of everyone. She froze entirely – thoughts and actions.

            “Are you EVEN listening to me?” Mr. Muglia roared.

            In the awkward silence that resumed, a familiar voice said, “Excuse me, is there a problem here?”

            Both Grace and Mr. Muglia turned around, a bit stunned, to see Mr. Perry standing there with his coat over his arm. Now it was Mr. Muglia’s turn to be embarrassed. He seemed to snap out of his tirade and mumbled incoherently for a moment. It occurred to Grace that Mr. Perry might not have realized that this little uncouth toad of a man was her boss, and that he was just another irate customer.

            Mr. Muglia adjusted his tie and said, “Everything is all right. Have a good day, sir.” He vanished around the corner to his office without a further word.

            Grace slowly started to be aware of her surroundings. Harry had been staring and looked at her with concern, like he wanted to say something but knew he would get chewed out by Mr. Muglia too if he tried to step in.

            “What was his problem?” Mr. Perry asked.

            Grace’s stomach immediately let loose – like it had started kicking in after holding itself together during Mr. Muglia’s tirade.

            “Are you okay?” he asked, noticing she hadn’t said anything.

            Grace still felt the shame of being chewed out like that in front of everyone. Her thoughts were in a fog but her stomach was kicking in hard and there was nothing she could do about it before—

            PRRRRRRRRRRRRPPPP!

            Grace clenched her buttocks and stood straight as an arrow; eyes wide.

            Mr. Perry pretended not to hear and looked away.

            Great. Not only did Mr. Muglia chew her out, now she embarrassed herself in front of the only guy she had very mildly been thinking about.

            “Excuse me. I need a moment.”

            Mr. Perry nodded.

            Grace fled for the bathroom.