Page 4 of Crimson Love

BULLSHITTERS

Lennon

B eing the general manager of The Manor at Winslet is a dream. Mr. Donnelly gave me a ninety-day trial period after I basically begged him for the job.

He had no idea how much I needed it, how much I needed the money and needed to disappear. What better place to do that than in this little one-horse town?

If I do say so myself, I have bullshitted my way through this job with flying colors. I’d put myself up against the biggest of the bullshitters. It hasn’t been easy. To say I exaggerated my resume when I interviewed is an understatement.

Did I intern for the most famous mouse in the world? No.

But I was a hostess for kiddy birthday parties back in high school. It may not have been at an amusement park, but it was at a trampoline park in a sketchy part of town. I only worked there for two weeks, because let’s be real, they hardly booked any parties.

Working on a cruise ship was a bit of stretch but not a complete lie. I did work on a boat, but I didn’t exactly manage anyone other than me. It was a luxury liner and not small by any comparison off the coast of Florida. I was the cook, the cleaner, and the hostess. I didn’t navigate the damn thing. If that were my responsibility, I would’ve crashed it into a bank of rocks and hoped for the best.

In the end, I did just that, only metaphorically, not literally.

Which is what brought me here. Not quite to the Pacific, but close enough. I couldn’t get much farther from my past life if I tried without leaving the country. I didn’t have the means to do that, or I would’ve.

There aren’t any apartments in Winslet. It’s too small and too old school. The locals are nice, but they don’t seem to like change. The best I could get was an empty room below the fiction section of the library.

Fitting, since that’s the way I’m living my life right now.

The mayor was all too happy to rent me a room without signing a lease. I didn’t even have to fill out a background check, which was my biggest stroke of luck aside from landing a job at the manor. I knew applying for the position of general manager of a five-star resort was a reach. Actually landing an interview with Devon Donnelly was an even bigger coup. So much so, I packed up and puttered the sedan that’s about to roll over two-hundred thousand miles across the entire country.

Lucky Lennon, that’s how I’m referring to myself since I rolled into town on fumes and a prayer.

When it came down to it, did I beg for the job?

I sure as hell did.

I’ve lived with desperation for a long time. I’m not too proud to beg. I need to eat and put a roof over my head, even if it is in the basement of a public library where no one’s lived since the librarian died a decade ago.

I did not ask if she died in the studio basement apartment I now call home. That’s a bit of information I don’t need to know.

Since then, no one has managed the place. City council members take turns unlocking the doors in the morning and locking them again right before dinner. Borrowing and returning books is on the honor system.

I guess the system works for the tiny town. The mayor said their book budget is less than a librarian’s salary, so they forged ahead with the honor system.

My last home was an interior cabin on a luxury liner. You’d think someone like me would complain about the lumpy twin bed and rusty plumbing fixtures, but I actually love it.

The rent is miniscule, and it’s quiet.

But the most important thing is I’m here because I want to be here.

I chose to be here.

It’s been a long time since I’ve been able to do that. I never knew that choosing where to be, where to work, and where to live is a luxury.

For me, it is.

So when I walk through the grand entrance of The Manor of Winslet that shines like a polished diamond, it’s a direct one-eighty from the tiny basement room I’ve just left at the library.

“Hey, Lennon!”

I stop and turn on the spiked heel I wear as easy as ballet slippers. The young maître ď from the formal dining room jogs up the stairs toward me, but today he’s not dressed in a suit. He looks like he’s ready to hit the courts. “Hi, Blake. You’re here early.”

He hurries past to open the door for me. “I’m helping out in recreation today and leading a hike to see the fall colors.” He leans in and lowers his voice. “I don’t even like to hike. I hope I don’t get lost. Mr. Donnelly bought me new shoes just for the occasion.”