The Reality of You by Jean Haus Read Free Book Online Page A

work.”
    Obviously, my
employer was irritated with me.
    For good reason.
    I hated Pilates.

Chapter 6

 
    Looking
suavely secretarial, I followed the bellhop down a short stone path past the
tropical pool area. My outfits had each been packed in garment bags courtesy of
Jules. She didn’t trust me dressing myself. Today, I was wearing a pale pink skirt
that reached my knees, a white sleeveless blouse with a wide collar, wedges
with an open toe, and a long, silver necklace. An outfit I never would have
picked out, even back when I’d wanted to look good. People assumed girl jocks
were tomboyish. Other than my propensity for ponytails, I’d always been more
girly than tomboy. At least before the stuck-in-depression thing. Depressed, my
style had been all about pajamas. But Jules was a whole other level that went
beyond fashionista.  
    At the end of the
path, we came to a tall, wrought-iron gate in the center of a taller brick
wall. The bellhop slid a card into the lock and held the gate open for me.
Though confused, I hiked my bag securely on my shoulder, thanked him, and
strolled through the gate. Lush palm fronds lined the path leading to a small
limestone patio overflowing with tropical flowers. In the corner, under more
palm fronds, two wicker chairs faced a gurgling stone fountain of entwined
dolphins.
    What the heck was
this?
    Beyond confused, I
gradually made my way to the gleaming wood door and, after a moment’s
hesitation, knocked lightly. In less than a minute, Reese opened the door. He
was wearing   black dress pants and a
white button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up his forearms. First the workout
clothes, and now casual. Used to him in suits, I was a little overwhelmed with
the gleaming skin of his forearms and the open vee of golden skin at his collar. His eyes quickly swept over me as he
opened the door wider.
    “You’re eight
minutes late.”
    “Sorry,” I said
instead of blaming it on the bellhop, who had been late to get me. Reese was
stuck with me for a week; the bellhop most likely needed his job.
    At his stiff nod, I
forced a slight smile. I strolled past him into a room with vaulted ceilings, plush
couches, a fireplace, a long dining room table, and a wall of windows. Past the
windows, a small pool surrounded by more greenery and tropical flowers shone in
the bright sunlight.
    Stunned and
overwhelmed, I turned toward him as he shut the door. “What is this place?”
    His nostrils flared
in evident annoyance. “My suite.”
    Openmouthed and in
total awe, I blinked at my surroundings. A fireplace? A private pool?
Seriously? This was mad ridiculous.
    After a shake of his
head at my expression of awe, he brushed past me, already irritated. “I’m set
up at the far end of the table.”
    So much for my
luxurious room. It was a dump compared to this.
    I followed him to
the long table, where he had his computer set out amid stacks of papers and pictures
of the resort. He pulled out a chair on the side then sat at the head of the
table. Face impassive, he waited as I dug out my iPad, paper, and pens.
    Once I appeared
ready, he lifted a yellow legal pad and began giving me directions that I
quickly jotted down on a notepad. Take
notes at all meetings with management and write a report due to him the next
morning. Write a report on all activities. Again due to him the next morning.
Pay attention to staff attentiveness, keep a log, and write a final report. Pay
attention to the food and food service for each meal, keep a log, and write a
final report.
    My head swam with
all of his directions as he pushed a stack of papers at me. My pen paused,
actually slightly shook, when he explained that the stack contained the latest
data on the hotel and I needed to present it graphically. I was suddenly back
in college in the dreaded class where the professor expected too much. But at
least then I had a semester. Not a week.
    He paused reading
his notes, tapped his index finger on the edge of the notepad,