Trump Tower by Jeffrey Robinson Read Free Book Online Page B

PBI?”
    â€œThe airport, yeah, thank you.”
    Giorgio stepped back inside the house.
    â€œWhat’s arranged?” Zeke asked again, as he took his cell phone and speed-dialed his pilot’s cell. “See you in half an hour.”
    â€œReady when you are,” the pilot told him.
    Zeke hung up and looked at Bobby. “You want to come to New York?”
    â€œSorry. Everything’s arranged.”
    â€œEverything . . . what?”
    Giorgio came back, said to Zeke, “Your bag will be right down.” Then he looked at Bobby, “Is there anything else I can do?”
    â€œTime out,” Zeke gestured with both hands. “What are you guys talking about?”
    â€œBeing your friend is a hardship,” Bobby explained. “In fact, the only benefit is that, when I told Mr. Giorgio I’d be here with you, he got me a tee-off time at Trump National. In an hour.”
    Zeke assured Giorgio, “I never saw him before.”
    â€œThat’s all right, sir, I’ll vouch for Mr. Lerner. He’s welcome any time.”
    â€œYou’re a gentleman and a scholar,” Bobby patted Giorgio on his shoulder, then told Zeke, “He’s even putting the green fee on your bill.”
    â€œA pleasure,” Giorgio said, shook Zeke’s hand and added, “Have a safe trip, sir. We look forward to seeing you again soon.”
    When they were alone again, Zeke put his arms around Bobby and hugged him. “I’m forty-five years old. I’m worth a hundred million dollars. I try to do the right thing for my mother, and she treats me like I’m twelve.”
    Bobby hugged him back. “If we can pull all this stuff off, you’re going to be worth ten times as much and . . . you know what?”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œHattie is still going to treat you like you’re twelve.”
6
    H e played the conversation over again in his head.
    Is she qualified ?
    She has a background in hotels .
    I mean, is she qualified to steal your job ?
    It was a question Belasco had never even contemplated.
    â€œIf you can handle Frank Sinatra,” Donald Trump had said to Belasco in Monte Carlo all those years ago, “you should be running a business for me.”
    â€œThank you, but I’m not looking for a job, sir,” he’d responded. “I already have the best job in the world.”
    â€œYou only think so because you haven’t yet heard my offer. I want you to run Trump Tower.”
    â€œThank you anyway, sir.” He’d said it as diplomatically as he could, “But leaving here is the farthest thing in my mind right now. I’m in the hotel business. It’s what I do. It’s who I am.”
    Although, Belasco had to admit to himself, if his first job as a sixteen-year-old assistant luggage porter at the Grand Hotel du Golf in his native ski resort village of Crans Montana, Switzerland, was one end of the spectrum, running Trump Tower was definitely the other.
    He’d taken the porter job because he’d not been happy in school. His mother saw it as demeaning. He assured her it was just the first rung on the ladder. And, within six months, he’d maneuvered himself to the front desk as a receptionist.
    A year after that, he was hired as a receptionist at the prestigious Baur au Lac Hotel in Zurich.
    Three years later, when the assistant manager there left to become manager of the Hassler in Rome, he brought Belasco with him to be assistant manager for guest relations.
    Three years after that, Belasco was recruited to become the youngest-ever food and beverage manager at the Danieli in Venice. He stayed there another three years, then moved on to be the assistant manager at the Crillon in Paris.
    It was another three years when, at the age of twenty-nine, he was hired as the youngest-ever general manager at the legendary Raffles Hotel in Singapore.
    From there he moved to London to run the ultra-stuffy Connaught Hotel