But it’s not going to have changed.” She punched the keys again and the display flickered and changed, showing the current guest list. Kormann checked it, hiding the edge of tension he felt. His eye ran down the short list and stopped as he reached the entry “Senator’s Ski Buddies.” Inwardly, he felt a little surge of relief. He hid the emotion, feigning exasperation instead.
“They’re not here,” he said and she gave him an “I told you so” look.
“That’s all we’ve got staying here tonight,” she told him.
“Now, Roger, is there some kind of problem here?”
It was another voice from behind Kormann. Loud and abrasive. Even Jenny’s limited experience in the hotel business told her that this was a voice that didn’t like having its plans changed. She looked to the top of the escalators and took in the expensive down parka, casually unzipped, the dark good looks, the iron gray hair, cut en brosse, and the alligator hide overnight bag slung from his left shoulder. Everything about the man simply shrieked money. And itshrieked it in a decidedly bad-tempered way. Another half-dozen or so men, dressed in parkas and casual pants, all carrying shoulder bags, were milling around at the top of the escalator.
“No problem at all, Mr. Pallisani,” said Kormann, moving to intercept the newcomer as he made his way toward the desk. Jenny detected a note of nervousness in his voice and her heart sank. This was trouble. A rich client, with a large group of customers and a bad temper, and no record on the computer that she should check them in.
Only too clearly, she could see the problems that would arise.
Check in twenty-two extra guests and that would mean someone was going to have to pay for twenty-two extra room nights. And twenty-two extra included breakfasts. And twenty-two extra God only knew what.
Come the end of the week, it wouldn’t be the customers who’d pay. They’d claim their accommodation had been prepaid and at one hundred and fifty bucks a night there’d be a bill for over three thousand dollars floating around with no one willing to pay it. And then all hell would break loose.
Jenny shook her head, coming to a decision. She wasn’t going to book these people in on her own authority.
“I’m sorry,” she told Pallisani, “but I’ve explained to Mr.… er…” She couldn’t remember his surname so she slurred over it, “that there’s no record of your booking on the computer.”
The gray-haired man regarded her as if she were some kind of particularly offensive insect. Then, refusing to talk to her, he swung on Kormann, his dark eyebrows knitting together in an angry line.
“Am I hearing this right? They’ve got a goddamned empty hotel here,” he swept his arm around, encompassing the deserted lobby, “and this… person… is refusing to check us in?”
“Mr. Pallisani,” Kormann began in a placating sort of voice. “I’m sure she doesn’t—”
“Because a fucking computer is telling her not to?”
Jenny winced slightly at the obscenity. Not that she hadn’t heard it before. Or used it herself for that matter. It was more the vehemence with which the word was uttered.
“Sir, I’m afraid I don’t have the authority to do this. I’m going to have to call the manager here to—”
“Fucking-A you are, honey!” the angry man spat at her. “And you can tell the stupid son of a bitch to get here right fucking now!”
Again, Jenny flinched at the language. There was something doubly offensive about it, coming as it did from a well dressed, successful looking businessman like this. Kormann watched the interplay between the two with a quiet sense of satisfaction. The overall confusion, coupled with the embarrassment caused by Pallisani’s intentional coarseness, were serving to keep the girl off balance. She reached for one of the internal phones, then hesitated.
“Maybe you and your group would like to wait in the coffee lounge downstairs, Mr.
“They’re not here,” he said and she gave him an “I told you so” look.
“That’s all we’ve got staying here tonight,” she told him.
“Now, Roger, is there some kind of problem here?”
It was another voice from behind Kormann. Loud and abrasive. Even Jenny’s limited experience in the hotel business told her that this was a voice that didn’t like having its plans changed. She looked to the top of the escalators and took in the expensive down parka, casually unzipped, the dark good looks, the iron gray hair, cut en brosse, and the alligator hide overnight bag slung from his left shoulder. Everything about the man simply shrieked money. And itshrieked it in a decidedly bad-tempered way. Another half-dozen or so men, dressed in parkas and casual pants, all carrying shoulder bags, were milling around at the top of the escalator.
“No problem at all, Mr. Pallisani,” said Kormann, moving to intercept the newcomer as he made his way toward the desk. Jenny detected a note of nervousness in his voice and her heart sank. This was trouble. A rich client, with a large group of customers and a bad temper, and no record on the computer that she should check them in.
Only too clearly, she could see the problems that would arise.
Check in twenty-two extra guests and that would mean someone was going to have to pay for twenty-two extra room nights. And twenty-two extra included breakfasts. And twenty-two extra God only knew what.
Come the end of the week, it wouldn’t be the customers who’d pay. They’d claim their accommodation had been prepaid and at one hundred and fifty bucks a night there’d be a bill for over three thousand dollars floating around with no one willing to pay it. And then all hell would break loose.
Jenny shook her head, coming to a decision. She wasn’t going to book these people in on her own authority.
“I’m sorry,” she told Pallisani, “but I’ve explained to Mr.… er…” She couldn’t remember his surname so she slurred over it, “that there’s no record of your booking on the computer.”
The gray-haired man regarded her as if she were some kind of particularly offensive insect. Then, refusing to talk to her, he swung on Kormann, his dark eyebrows knitting together in an angry line.
“Am I hearing this right? They’ve got a goddamned empty hotel here,” he swept his arm around, encompassing the deserted lobby, “and this… person… is refusing to check us in?”
“Mr. Pallisani,” Kormann began in a placating sort of voice. “I’m sure she doesn’t—”
“Because a fucking computer is telling her not to?”
Jenny winced slightly at the obscenity. Not that she hadn’t heard it before. Or used it herself for that matter. It was more the vehemence with which the word was uttered.
“Sir, I’m afraid I don’t have the authority to do this. I’m going to have to call the manager here to—”
“Fucking-A you are, honey!” the angry man spat at her. “And you can tell the stupid son of a bitch to get here right fucking now!”
Again, Jenny flinched at the language. There was something doubly offensive about it, coming as it did from a well dressed, successful looking businessman like this. Kormann watched the interplay between the two with a quiet sense of satisfaction. The overall confusion, coupled with the embarrassment caused by Pallisani’s intentional coarseness, were serving to keep the girl off balance. She reached for one of the internal phones, then hesitated.
“Maybe you and your group would like to wait in the coffee lounge downstairs, Mr.
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