Chapter 2
The next morning, Andre was waiting outside my office.
He stood beneath the awning in an ordinary jacket, with no hotel badge on his chest. He had called my assistant at seven and asked for ten minutes.
“I know yesterday was awkward,” he said as soon as I met him. “I didn’t come to talk about Ms. Brooks.”
“Then come upstairs.”
He hesitated.
“Will anyone from the hotel know I was here?”
“Not from me.”
In my conference room, he placed a folder on the table.
“My team’s hours aren’t adding up,” he said. “Some of us stay until two in the morning. Our pay slips say we left before midnight.”
“How long?”
“Since spring.”
“Have you raised it with payroll?”
“Twice. They told me the system rounds our time when events run late.”
“By two hours?”
“I asked the same thing.”
Andre took out a notebook. He had written down his shifts for four months. There were dates, events, and the names of the people who closed with him.
“I don’t want anyone fired because I came here,” he said.
“I won’t make promises I can’t control. I can promise to handle your information carefully and have it reviewed by someone independent.”
He nodded.
“My mother depends on what I earn. I can’t afford to lose my job.”
He said it without asking for pity. He wanted the wages he had already worked for.
I looked through his records.
“Why bring this to me?”
“Mr. Brooks said you might become an investor. If you’re putting money into the hotel, you should know how it’s treating the people who keep it open.”
I thought of Maya calling him back to the curb after our conversation.
“Has she heard about the hours?”
“I emailed her office. I don’t know if she saw it.”
When he left, I called my attorney, Simone Price. I asked her to arrange an independent payroll review as a condition of any investment. I also asked her to keep Andre’s name out of the first request.
At ten, I walked into the Grand Meridian.
Maya stood beside the reception desk with a tablet in her hands. She saw me and went still.
“Mr. Hale,” she said.
“So you know my name now.”
“I looked you up. About last night—”
“We can talk later. Where’s the meeting?”
She directed me upstairs.
Elijah waited in a boardroom overlooking the city. He was sixty-three and still dressed as carefully as he had when I was a boy visiting his office by appointment.
He stood when I entered.
“Marcus.”
We shook hands.
Maya came in behind me. She looked between us.
“You know each other?”
Elijah touched the back of his chair.
“I invited Marcus.”
“I can see that.”
“He’s considering an investment.”
Maya sat down.
I noticed he still had not told her who I was.
The finance director, Victor Lane, began his presentation. He showed photographs of renovated suites and charts describing growth. Then he explained the hotel needed a large cash injection within six weeks.
“What happened to the reserve?” I asked.
“Renovations cost more than expected,” Victor said.
“Which renovations?”
“The west wing, mostly.”
He moved to the next slide.
I asked him to return to the previous one.
The total for the west wing was higher than the estimate Simone had obtained from public planning filings. It might have a reasonable explanation. Victor did not offer one.
“We can provide the details after the meeting,” he said.
“I’ll need them before I decide anything.”
Elijah shifted.
“We’ll make every record available.”
“Payroll too.”
Maya looked up.
“Payroll?”
“I’ve heard there may be errors in recorded hours.”
Victor smiled.
“Staff misunderstand automated systems all the time.”
“Then the review will clear it up.”
I saw Maya turn toward him. For the first time, she looked uncertain.
After the presentation, Elijah asked me to stay. Maya remained as well.
“I owe you an apology for last night,” she said.
“Why?”
“I assumed you were a valet.”
“Would what you said have been acceptable if I were?”
She met my eyes.
“No.”
I believed she knew the answer was right. I did not yet know if she meant it.
Elijah cleared his throat.
“There’s something else Maya should know.”
I waited.
Maya looked at him.
He seemed to lose his nerve.
Before he could speak, Victor returned to the room holding his phone.
“Mr. Brooks,” he said, “there’s a problem. Several staff members have sent a complaint to the owners.”
“What kind of complaint?” Elijah asked.
May you like
Victor glanced at me.
“Unpaid hours. They’ve named the valet department first.”
