useless frat brothers in polo shirts and khakis. Both men used hair care products and cologne in equally alarming amounts.
Burton looked her over and dismissed her by turning away. But Abby was undeterred. She breezed through the opened door and rounded the other empty chair in the room, though she didn’t take a seat.
“Mr. Burton,” she began. “I’m Abby Raines. Your new Assistant Manager.” Burton merely nodded. “Mr. Burton, I have some concerns that we should-”
“Kessler, you concerned?” Burton Jr. drawled to the man who was his own age.
“Nope,” Kessler replied, standing up. “Let’s go.”
Abby moved to block the door. She lifted the stack of reports. “Among other things, Mr. Burton, are you aware that the bookings have fallen well below an acceptable threshold for-”
“Bad economy,” Burton replied, standing up as well.
“Mr. Burton if we don’t-”
“Angie, we’re late,” Kessler announced. “We’ve got a noon tee time.”
Abby flushed scarlet. “These reports-”
Kessler stopped in front of her and narrowed his eyes at her. All hint of his earlier frivolity vanished. “If I have to read reports, then what did I hire you for? If there’s a problem, fix it, as long as you stay within budget. You came highly recommended from one of the largest hotel/casinos in Nevada. Are you saying you can’t handle a hotel as small as the Custer?”
Abby’s mouth dropped open. “No. I mean, yes I can. If-”
But Kessler was already waving her away as though she were a troublesome gnat. “Then do that,” he demanded.
Abby felt instantly deflated as she watched both men swagger down the hall and through the doors that led into the hotel’s lobby. She gripped the sheaf of reports that heralded the fact that they were on a sinking ship and stormed back to her own office. She slammed them down on her desk and sank into the chair.
The budget was ridiculous. She couldn’t market or make any decent repairs. They’d switched to substandard linens, towels, and toiletries before Abby had even been hired, which she supposed was necessary when the hotel was losing money at this rate. But why was she trying to bail out the Custer with a teacup when the owner and the manager didn’t seem to care at all? Within a few years Kessler would be out of a job and Burton would lose the only thing of importance that he owned. How could they not care?
Abby was so irritated at the two of them she could scream. She could quit the job, but that would look bad on her resume. She could ride it out until the Custer finally closed down, but that would make her look like an incompetent manager. She glared at the reports that were scattered on her desk. At a loss for anything else to do, she opened the bottom drawer and hauled out her purse. She opened the inside zippered pocket and located her Smith and Wesson .38.
****
“God damn it!”
Tex glanced across the garage at Hawk who was nursing a bloody thumb. “Aren’t you done yet?” he said, just to irritate the large Sioux. Hawk glared at him. “I’m just saying, once you are, you gonna take it for a test drive?”
That earned Tex a slight twitch of Hawk’s jaw. “Don’t even,” Hawk snarled.
Easy laughed. “An Indian on an Indian.”
Shooter merely shook his head at both of them. “Tex. Quit being an asshole and head to Pearson’s to pick up those parts for that chopper.”
Tex gave his former lieutenant a half salute and his former squadmate a shit-eating grin. Hawk rolled his eyes, but grinned back.
Mid-town traffic wasn’t heavy, but just enough to be annoying. It was Friday, though, and it would only get worse. He didn’t care, though, since he usually stuck around Burnout until the 5 o’clock traffic thinned out and didn’t head out again until it was time to go to the bar in the evening. His thoughts turned to Vegas.
It hadn’t been a
Burton looked her over and dismissed her by turning away. But Abby was undeterred. She breezed through the opened door and rounded the other empty chair in the room, though she didn’t take a seat.
“Mr. Burton,” she began. “I’m Abby Raines. Your new Assistant Manager.” Burton merely nodded. “Mr. Burton, I have some concerns that we should-”
“Kessler, you concerned?” Burton Jr. drawled to the man who was his own age.
“Nope,” Kessler replied, standing up. “Let’s go.”
Abby moved to block the door. She lifted the stack of reports. “Among other things, Mr. Burton, are you aware that the bookings have fallen well below an acceptable threshold for-”
“Bad economy,” Burton replied, standing up as well.
“Mr. Burton if we don’t-”
“Angie, we’re late,” Kessler announced. “We’ve got a noon tee time.”
Abby flushed scarlet. “These reports-”
Kessler stopped in front of her and narrowed his eyes at her. All hint of his earlier frivolity vanished. “If I have to read reports, then what did I hire you for? If there’s a problem, fix it, as long as you stay within budget. You came highly recommended from one of the largest hotel/casinos in Nevada. Are you saying you can’t handle a hotel as small as the Custer?”
Abby’s mouth dropped open. “No. I mean, yes I can. If-”
But Kessler was already waving her away as though she were a troublesome gnat. “Then do that,” he demanded.
Abby felt instantly deflated as she watched both men swagger down the hall and through the doors that led into the hotel’s lobby. She gripped the sheaf of reports that heralded the fact that they were on a sinking ship and stormed back to her own office. She slammed them down on her desk and sank into the chair.
The budget was ridiculous. She couldn’t market or make any decent repairs. They’d switched to substandard linens, towels, and toiletries before Abby had even been hired, which she supposed was necessary when the hotel was losing money at this rate. But why was she trying to bail out the Custer with a teacup when the owner and the manager didn’t seem to care at all? Within a few years Kessler would be out of a job and Burton would lose the only thing of importance that he owned. How could they not care?
Abby was so irritated at the two of them she could scream. She could quit the job, but that would look bad on her resume. She could ride it out until the Custer finally closed down, but that would make her look like an incompetent manager. She glared at the reports that were scattered on her desk. At a loss for anything else to do, she opened the bottom drawer and hauled out her purse. She opened the inside zippered pocket and located her Smith and Wesson .38.
****
“God damn it!”
Tex glanced across the garage at Hawk who was nursing a bloody thumb. “Aren’t you done yet?” he said, just to irritate the large Sioux. Hawk glared at him. “I’m just saying, once you are, you gonna take it for a test drive?”
That earned Tex a slight twitch of Hawk’s jaw. “Don’t even,” Hawk snarled.
Easy laughed. “An Indian on an Indian.”
Shooter merely shook his head at both of them. “Tex. Quit being an asshole and head to Pearson’s to pick up those parts for that chopper.”
Tex gave his former lieutenant a half salute and his former squadmate a shit-eating grin. Hawk rolled his eyes, but grinned back.
Mid-town traffic wasn’t heavy, but just enough to be annoying. It was Friday, though, and it would only get worse. He didn’t care, though, since he usually stuck around Burnout until the 5 o’clock traffic thinned out and didn’t head out again until it was time to go to the bar in the evening. His thoughts turned to Vegas.
It hadn’t been a
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