I motion to the girls off to the side. “You’re all welcome to come.” I smile sweetly at Lisa and then she turns and begins to walk out of the restaurant. Cole follows her and I steal one quick glance at Fletcher.
He doesn’t say anything. Not a shake of his head like they are lying. Not a word to defend himself. He just stands there and frowns. Looking very, very guilty.
I walk behind Cole and the group of girls as we make our way to the elevator that services the offices on the third floor of the East Tower. I think about Fletcher and what an asshole he must be to have slept with all those women. He probably left them the same note he left me this morning. And I can see how hurt a young woman might be if she had hoped for something more than just hot sex. Lord knows I’m thankful that I’m not even remotely interested in him. I mean, he has slut written all over him. I knew that going in.
But some of these girls look very young. Especially Miss Watkins. Twenty-one? Maybe twenty-two? And Fletcher is pushing thirty. He’s got some experience and years behind him. Me as well. I’m no doe-eyed college girl.
It’s sad really. That he feels the need to pump himself up with these young women. Use them to make himself feel better just because he can.
But on the other hand, he’s a male stripper, for Pete’s sake. How dumb can these girls be? He’s only good for a one-night stand to begin with.
When we get upstairs to the reception area I wave them all into a conference room just as Cole’s phone rings. He checks the screen, and then looks at me and winces. “It’s your father. I have to take this.”
“I can handle it. But Cole,” I say, grabbing his arm real fast before he leaves. “Don’t mention this to him. He doesn’t need this on his plate too.”
“Got it, Tiffy. I’ll leave it to you.”
“Thanks.” I take a deep breath as he answers his phone and walks off. And then I plant a smile on my face, enter the room, and close the door.
xoxoxoxoxoxoxo
Two hours later the last girl is just finishing up. It’s been two hours of hell with the We hate Fletcher Novak Support Group of South Tahoe. Two hours of crying and threats to castrate my star stripper. Two hours of swearing and anger. Two hours of what-are-you-gonna-do-about-this.
I don’t even have an answer. But I have to tell them something. “Ladies, first off, thank you for coming in and telling me your stories. As a woman, I know what it feels like to be objectified. And I know how bad it hurts when you feel misled by a man you thought was interested. But Fletcher Novak has no clause in his contract that prohibits him from sleeping with non-employees.”
And I just fucked him, so I’m breaking more rules than he did, I don’t add.
“But,” I continue, “I assure you, I will take action regarding this matter. And his contract will be redrawn the minute I can talk to the lawyers.”
“You’re not going to fire him?” Lisa exclaims.
“Well—” I stutter.
“He deserves to be fired,” a girl named Cathy says. “Now.”
“Yeah,” a few more echo.
“I can’t promise that. You have to understand we are bound by labor laws. If he didn’t break his contract, then I have to write him up and give him a warning.”
“How about poor representation of your show and casino? Don’t performers have that in their contracts?”
“We do not,” I lie. I’m not sure why I lie. Maybe just because I need these girls to go away. I don’t want them following up or pressing matters. I don’t want my father to find anything out about this. I just want to clear the air, make the necessary changes, and then move on. “But I will be looking very closely at this issue. And I’m not saying he won’t be fired, I’m just not saying he will. You understand this is an internal matter and he has rights too. So I need to respect them and push this through the proper channels. But I can tell you, the Landslide is not interested in a performer who presents a bad image of our establishment.”
They mumble a few more complaints, but I wrap things up, give them one more assurance that things will be dealt with and usher them out of the hotel.
I watch them leave by the front entrance, and cringe when Lisa Watkins gives me an angry look over her shoulder. She’s not satisfied.
And neither am I.
Fletcher really does need to go.
I turn back and walk into the casino, wondering what I should do next. I wonder all the way back up to the office floor, and then I take my indecision back into the conference room and sit down.
“Leslie?” I call out for the receptionist.
“Yes, Miss Preston?” She gets up out of her chair and rushes in to see what I might need.
“Can you text me Fletcher’s number?”
“Sure, ma’am. Let me go get it.”
I stare out the window as I wait. It’s late afternoon now and the sun is making its way towards the mountains on the west side of the lake.
Well, this day certainly started better than it will end.
I still can’t believe I slept with Novak. What an idiot I am. And not because I feel used, like those girls. I don’t. I’m not interested in a pretty boy like him, a man who thinks he can manipulate the world with his charm and good looks.
I just feel disappointed in myself because if my father finds out, he’ll be disappointed in me for making a bad decision.
I’m not afraid of my father. I’m not afraid of being yelled at, or losing my job, or my trust fund. I just want to please him. And if he finds out I had such a monumental lapse in judgment, well, it will kill me to see his face.
My phone buzzes in my purse, and Leslie calls out, “That’s the number,” from her desk.
“Thank you,” I call back. I get up, close the door, and press send as I walk back and take a seat in my chair.
“Yeah,” he answers on the first ring.
“It’s Tiffy.”
“I know.”
“Can you… come down to the conference room on three?”
“That’s OK, Tiffy. I’ll save you the trouble. I’ve already got a lawyer. He’ll contact you tomorrow.” And then I get the hang-up beeps.
Fuck.
I press send again and this time it rings through to voicemail.
Shit. Lawyers are bad news. If lawyers get involved, I’m screwed. My father will definitely hear about that.
But I can’t let Fletcher get away with it. I really can’t. What he’s doing is wrong and he needs to know that.
I think the professional thing to do is to have an adult conversation. I mean, I haven’t exactly been professional today. But as my father always told me, it’s never too late to turn over a new leaf.
I get up and open the door. “Leslie? Does Novak have a room here?”
“Yes, ma’am. He stays on fifteen in the penthouse tower. He and Chandler both have a complimentary suite.”
“What number?”
“Fifteen thirty-nine.”
“Thanks.” I go back in the conference room and grab my bag. I guess I will have to go to him if he’s not going to take my call.
My heart races on my way up to fifteen. He’s in the same tower as me, and all I can think of the whole way there is how much I want to go back to my room and take one of those long bubble baths I was craving this morning.
Gah, and then I feel guilty for what I did with Fletcher. How could I have fucked up so badly?
I stop in front of his suite room and then hesitate. Maybe I should just let legal handle this? I might make things worse if I confront him.
But no. I run all the reasons through my head why my father can’t know about this, and then I rap on the hard wooden door.
I hear footsteps inside, and then a pause, which means he’s probably looking through the peephole.
So I wave at him. “I just need to talk,” I say in my most businesslike tone. “Five minutes, that’s it.”
The door opens a crack. “What?”
“Don’t you want to give your side of the story?”
“I will, when my lawyer is present. I’m not gonna let you corporate people fuck up my life.”