Page 90 of The Company

Chapter Thirty-Seven - James

“What’s this place?” Sasha asks as I pull into the Palm Destiny Resort valet.

“What’s it look like?” I ask back. I gauge how much time until sunset and come up with an hour and a half, maybe. Merc could live a little closer to town if you ask me, but whatever. So far Harp and I have not had a proper sunset. But this restaurant is on the top floor and has a view of the pool, palm trees, and the mountains—so it faces west. The perfect sunset is within our grasp. Even if I do have to share it with Smurfette.

“A hotel,” Sasha says dryly. “Why are we at a hotel if we’re going out to eat?”

I look over at Harper as we wait for the valet to finish up with the car in front of us. She said she wants to have dinner with me and celebrate shit. Like families do, that’s the way I took it. And while the Smurf in the back is not part of my plans for the future, she’s a partner for now. So she’s family too. “The lionfish wants seafood, so seafood she shall have.”

“This looks like a place you need reservations, James. I bet we can’t get a table.”

“Reservations. Pfft. Please, Harper. A little bit of faith.” The valets appear, opening doors for the girls, and I get out and shake the hand of the guy on my side. I slip him some cash. “Park it outside where you can see it, please.”

And then I walk around the dirty piece-of-shit Hummer and take Harper’s hand. We’re not dressed up, and the top-floor restaurant typically requires top-floor attire, but they won’t be turning me away. I lead the girls inside and then take them over to a seating area filled with plush couches and chairs. “Watch TV for a sec, will ya? I’ll be right back.” I peck Harp on the cheek and go looking for my contact. I bypass the front desk, the concierge, and all staff wearing anything that resembles the kind of uniform required when you work with customers, and instead head straight for the door that says, Housekeeping, Employees Only.

I bump right into a large older woman wearing a maid’s uniform. “Can I help you?” she asks cautiously in her thick Spanish accent.

“I’m looking for Raul,” I reply back.

She eyes me with suspicion, making the lines on her forehead come together in a v pattern. “Who is asking?”

“Six.”

“OK,” she says, sucking in a breath, like she’s preparing for terrible news. “I am tonight’s Raul. What you do need?”

“Dinner,” I say with a smile. “For three, top floor.”

She laughs. “Dinner?” She laughs again. “Dinner,” she repeats, shaking her head. “Whew, I OK with dinner. I do dinner for you, Mr. Six.” It comes out Meester Sex, but that’s just fine with me. I bet she thought I had a body cleanup job for her. She’s a maid, after all. That’s what Company maids do. “You go upstairs,” she says, scribbling something down on the back of a business card that has a sailing yacht on it and says, Tate Global Engineering. She hands me the card and I flip it over to read the script. Company Man. “You go up, I tell them you coming.”

“Thank you,” I tell her as I leave the way I came in. When I get back to the lobby Harper and Sasha are huddled next to each other as they watch TV. They could be related, that’s how alike they look right now. Long blonde hair. Sasha has blue eyes, and Harper’s are brown, but they both have petite features. Small noses, small mouths, and lean bodies from years of being outdoors.

“Let’s go, girls.” I wave them to me and they both come quickly. “What’s wrong?” I ask them.

“Harper thought she saw someone she knew outside.”

“Who?” I ask as I hold the elevator doors open for them.

“I don’t know,” Harper says, looking over her shoulder. “He just looked familiar. Some guard we had on ship. But that’s silly. He was a personal guard, and they never leave the ship.”

We’re silent as the elevator takes us to the top-floor restaurant. She’s probably imagining things, but I don’t like the new vibe in the air all of a sudden. The doors part a few seconds later and before us is the grand dining room. The maître d’ smiles widely, even though we are not dressed.

Being Six has certain perks. Getting your ass kissed by a glorified waiter is not usually up there with my top ten, but right now, it’s number one. Because I just want Harper to have a nice evening.

“Your table is waiting, sir,” the maître d’ says. And then he waves us forward to the waiter. We are taken to the far side of the restaurant and seated in front of a window with a view that impresses even me.

“Wow,” Sasha says as she takes a seat facing the window. “I bet the sunset is fantastic.”

I look over at Harper and smile. I sure the fuck hope so.

The waiter calls off the day’s specials and Harper’s eyes light up with the mention of fresh fish flown in daily on the weekends. The waiter takes drink orders and as soon as he leaves Harper leans in and kisses me on the cheek. “A fish taco stand this is not.”

“No fish tacos for you, baby. Not unless we’re sitting on the sand in some Third World beach and washing it down with a bottle of beer.”

“That sounds just as good as this.”

“Yeah, but there’s no beach here, so fish tacos are out. Now what’s it gonna be?” Both girls look over the menu and that makes me smile inside as well as out. They can both use a nice normal dinner for once. I’m pretty sure Harper has not had a sit-down dinner since she left the ship. And Sasha… well, I doubt she’s ever had a formal dinner like this. I glance down at the menu, opt for my usual, and then turn to Sasha. “You gonna get the buffalo burger?”

She shoots me an annoyed glare. “Why would you assume I’d want the buffalo? Because I’m from Wyoming?”