Page 7 of Watching Her

“Yes. Yes! That’s what makes me crazy, but they’re giving me the runaround. What do I do? You have a background in this shit. Not me.”

Had was more like it. I would still have a great job in the hospitality industry were it not for my piece of shit ex who’d decided when we’d broken up to have my boss fire me on the spot. Not only that, for kicks and giggles, he’d decided to take his hatred a notch further by having me blacklisted.

I’d caught him in the act of betrayal and he’d acted as if he owned me and that he couldn’t believe I would walk away. Did he think he was all that and a bag of Doritos? Evidently so.

Thankfully, after three further rude texts, he’d stopped bothering. That didn’t mean he hadn’t continued to ruin my professional career.

That was why I was on pins and needles, thankful that when I’d had a six-figure salary I’d saved some money. Or my ass and my beloved Keurig machine would be out on the street.

“Okay. Then they must adhere to the contract.” I tried to convey confidence.

“They’re saying something about the final payment not being received, which is wrong. I have all the bank information. But they booked some of our rooms. Can you fucking believe that?”

She was close to becoming hysterical.

“Sadly, I can. What can I do?”

“You must know some people who can help.” I had a YouTube channel to set up and a half dozen posts to make. Plus, there was something horribly wrong with the way I’d set up my affiliate links and God knows you didn’t want to piss off Amazon. They didn’t play fair or nice when they had any inkling you were a scammer.

Arguing with a computer-generated bot was certainly not on the day’s agenda. However, neither was someone begging for help from a thousand miles away.

On top of that I had a damn internet troll. Maybe I should feel as if I’d ‘arrived’ in my fledgling business.

“In California? I doubt it.” My snort was entirely too judgmental, but my excuse would remain lack of coffee.

“Pretty please?”

I laughed evilly. “What’s in it for me?” I was teasing her, but I should have known she would take me seriously.

“A table at the conference. You can take one of the suites already booked at the hotel for people working on the convention and since I travel so much, I have frequent flyer miles. I’ll toss in round trip air fare. I’ll even spring for first class. This cannot fail.”

Wow. She was close to desperation. I had to admit the offer was tempting. Since being fired unexpectedly, I’d been provided with plenty of time to get my tiny business up and running: a romance book influencer and social media director. Some might call me a bookstagrammer, but I was so much more. Romance on the Go. I thought the name was catchy. Too bad few people did at this point.

A romance book convention.

Why hadn’t I thought of that? Because my hobby of a few months hadn’t been intended to turn into a business, but here I was, grasping at straws.

“Oh, please,” Anita moaned. “I’m dying here.”

“Alright. You have yourself a deal, but I won’t make any promises. Send me a copy of the contract and the name and contact information of the people you talked to along with everything you have on the conference and the expectations of the use of their hotel.”

“Already done. You’re the best. I can’t wait to see you. As soon as you confirm we’re set, I’ll make all the travel arrangements, so you won’t need to worry about a thing.”

There was nothing like having something held over your head.

Anita’s email had been primed and ready by the time I’d sat down at my computer. If what she’d said was true, I suspected the real problem was that the hotel had overbooked with another conference, which meant ballrooms were prime real estate. Perhaps they were even running short on the block of rooms promised.

Another cup of coffee and I settled into familiarizing myself with the amenities as well as going over every line in the contract. Payment had been made, although a day late. In most situations regarding such a significant contract, there was some leniency regarding payment deadlines.

This was a classic example of being pushed by another party at the hotel or by someone in one of the executive suites. When I finally felt versed in the information so I wouldn’t make a fool of myself, I checked the name of the person she’d been speaking with.

Well, well. It would seem luck was on Anita’s side.

Jordan White.

We’d been on opposite sides of a marketing campaign a couple of years before. He was smart, but I was cunning.

I knew him marginally well, enough to know all his weaknesses. And yes, I intended on using them.