DESERT FANTASIES
Jack Scribe
Chapter 2, GROUND RULES
Manny found the supervisor in the staff trailer
and introduced Cray as a new cleaning crew employee. From José Rivera’s surprised
reaction to the information, Cray assumed the older Hispanic supervisor usually
had some say in the hiring process. Cray was naturally leery of adult authority
figures and decided to behave cautiously in this new environment. He also
sensed he should keep a respectful distance from his two bosses until he knew
them better.
Within a matter of minutes, he was processed
– uniforms, locker, timesheet and security card. After Manny wished Cray well
and departed, the supervisor tersely told Cray that he’d have to prove himself
and not to expect a free ride just because he knew the boss.
“Sir, I’ll give you 110%,” Cray said earnestly.
He was aware that the last thing he needed was to be in the middle of a managerial
pissing contest. “This job means a lot to me.”
“Okay, kid. You do that and we’ll get along
just fine,” José replied. “I want you back here an hour before the regular
shift so I can show you around the spaces to be cleaned and review your job
duties.”
“That’s not a problem, Mr. Rivera, Sir. I’ll
be here at 4:00 p.m.”
“The name’s José and I’ll see you, then…not
a minute later.” He cocked his head a little, raised an eyebrow and added,
“Now, go ahead and vamoose.”
Cray shook hands with José, turned towards
the door and exited the trailer. He saw Mario, waved and walked over to the
truck.
“Looks like you’re all set. Get in and we’ll
split this scene.” Mario opened the driver’s door, swung into the seat and
started the engine.
“All set…but I gotta get back here at 4:00
p.m.” Cray got into the passenger’s side and closed the door as Mario started
rolling the truck forward.
“How does it feel to be an official working
stiff?” Mario asked as he turned onto Las Vegas Boulevard to return to the
bus station.
“Relieved. Although I can’t officially be a
‘working stiff’ until I actually begin tonight. It’s not that much money but
it’ll get me started. And I don’t mean to sound ungrateful,” Cray replied
with a tight, nervous smile. “This really helps.”
“I told you how you could make lots more…but
I understand that this other work is not an option for you.” Mario expertly
moved through the busy boulevard and pointed out some of the other casinos
he had missed on the earlier trip. He also gave Cray some basic information
on which city bus to take back to the casino construction project later that
afternoon.
“I’m amazed that the buses run so frequently
late into night. Provo is pretty dead after seven or so.”
“There’s over 110,000 hotel rooms in Vegas
and they’re mostly filled all the time. The guests have a desire to spend
their money all night long…on lots of things.” Mario turned and winked at
Cray. “Most visitors quickly learn that the bus is the easiest way to get
from the casinos on Fremont Street to the Strip. Our problem is how to get
you over to my house at one in the morning. You gotta transfer buses.”
“Oh, oh. I knew this seemed to be too easy.
The last thing I need to do is get lost in the middle of the night in a strange
city.” Cray pondered this new catch and added, “Maybe I can sleep on one of
the chairs at the bus station.”
“You crazy? First, those plastic bucket seats
are uncomfortable on purpose. But the cops make a sweep of that place pretty
frequently and trying to bed down for the night is unlawful. Tell you what:
I’ll have you picked up by one of the other guys who stay at my house. I know
their schedule and one of them will finish work about that time. Just leave
everything to me. For two nights, we can handle it.”
“Mario, that’s a lifesaver. Thanks.” Cray looked
over at his new friend and decided not to question his luck. ‘As long as I
don’t have to do sex stuff with guys like I did with Gene, I’ll go with the
flow,’ he decided.
“Just be out by the security gate and I’ll
have ya picked up somewhere between 1:15 and 1:30 a.m. They’ll know your name
and I’ll tell them to flash the lights a couple of times as a signal.”
“Cool. I’ll bring my duffle bag back to the
trailer this afternoon and keep it in my work locker. I’ll just take a change
of underwear and my dopp kit to your house.” Cray decided not to trust having
all of his possessions in a stranger’s house…no matter how well Mario had
treated him so far. As he looked out the truck windows, Cray’s glance lingered
just a little longer when the reflection of his dark-haired new friend came
into view. He wondered who this handsome guy really was behind his ‘tough
guy’ façade. ‘Mario’s certainly more than just a pimp who hustles for new
talent.’ Cray smiled when he conjured a vision of his new friend driving a
white Cadillac, wearing tons of gold chains, a white fur coat and diamond
rings. ‘Like the movies.’
“That works. And if ya want to do any laundry
before ya leave, no problem.”
“By the way, this may be a dumb question but
I don’t even know your last name,” Cray said.
He looked directly at Mario and held the stare. For the first time,
he could make out ‘U.S.M.C.’ at the bottom of the tattoo on Mario’s right
bicep.
“I guess I’ve been a little vague. In Vegas,
usually the first name is all ya use. But since we’re going to be sharing
a bed for a few days, I’ll give you the whole thing,” Mario replied with a
chuckle. “Mario Cirillo at your service. Although some of the guys around
the house call me Troy. That was my working name.”
“Working? As in, you know…?” It hadn’t occurred
to Cray that Mario probably had to ‘know’ the business if he was going to
recruit new…talent. ‘This is definitely stuff that a kid like me is too young
to be a part of,’ he decided. ‘I wish I had a real home to go to…with real
parents.’
“Exactly. Like you said earlier – fucks for
bucks,” Mario said with a resigned smile. “I’ve been out here four years but
decided to retire last year cuz I was promoted to number two in our organization.”
“If you don’t mind me asking, is that tat on
your arm from the Marine Corps? I couldn’t help but notice it.”
“Yep. Right out of high school. Something I
had to do with that whole 9/11-thing happening. My current boss met me at
a bar near Camp Pendleton and I ended up, ah…moonlighting on weekends up here
in Vegas or L.A. until I got out. Then, it just seemed natural to move to
this town and work full time. So there you are…end of story.”
“So…um…you’re gay?” Cray hadn’t bothered to
match the pieces of this puzzle together until now.
“Gay for pay I suppose is the best way to describe
it. There’s a part of me that’s very bi-curious…always have been. I’ve been
doing stuff with guys since as long as I can remember. So when I was approached
about ‘working’ and found out how much I could make doing what I like to do…well,
it was something that I found appealing. But the other 90% of the time I got
a girlfriend. Ha, I’ve probably told you more about myself than to anyone
else for a long time. Somehow, I feel like I can trust you.”
“Thanks, Mario, for the rundown and vote of
confidence.” Cray stopped short of returning the compliment about trust. He
knew this was a lot of information to digest about this new person in his
life and he needed time to think it out. ‘Gay for pay’ and ‘bi-curious’ were
new expressions to him.
They passed the Stratosphere and several new
condo projects as they got nearer the downtown area. When Mario turned off
the side street, he told Cray that they were skirting the Fremont casino area
and would be at their destination in a few moments. He didn’t want to leave
the safety and security of this man, but he knew it was time to take control
of his life. ‘Kinda like life without training wheels,’ he decided as they
pulled up in front of the Greyhound terminal.
Mario reiterated the pickup arrangement for
later that evening and departed. Cray watched his new friend drive down the
street and then went inside to retrieve his duffle bag. With all his earthly
possessions in hand and over his shoulder, Cray made his way over to the Downtown
Transportation Center and boarded the “Deuce” Strip bus for the trip back
to the construction site. He figured he’d stow the duffle bag in his new locker,
go to a Mickey D’s he’d seen earlier to have lunch and walk around the strip
casinos. ‘This is a good time to understand the area better until it’s time
to report for orientation,’ he thought. ‘I just hope the uniform doesn’t look
too dweeb-like.’
Promptly at 4:00 p.m., he returned to the trailer,
changed into the blue work uniform and found José. At his direction, Cray
signed the timesheet before taking a tour to be shown the equipment and the
spaces that would be cleaned each evening.
“This is a one-time training shot, Gamble.
Tonight I’m going to show you what needs to be done. There’s a checklist that
you can use to follow along because tomorrow you’re on your own. We’ll start
over at the shed where all the carts are stored. Follow me.” José led the
way out of the crew trailer and the two men walked over to a metal building.
Inside were carts with all the cleaning equipment that was required.
“I grabbed a pad so I could take notes,” Cray
replied as he helped push one of the larger carts out of the shed.
“Good idea. We’ll go to each of the trailers
and then end up at the big boss’s trailer. He’s usually out of there because
of a late afternoon meeting every day. I’ll show you how to get his offices
cleaned and then we’ll do the rest.”
“The big cheese is in one of the trailers?”
Cray thought the guy who ran things would probably be in some cushy office
tower someplace else.
“Well, the operations big cheese works out
of the trailer. His boss – the really big cheese – and the sales people are
in a building about a half-mile from here. If you meet one of them, just kiss
ass big time and everything will be fine. Manny seems to think you’ll fit
in.”
“I get the picture.” Cray wiped some perspiration
from his brow and added, “Guess ya just get used to the heat.” Even wearing
the short sleeve uniform shirt, Cray thought that the late afternoon desert
temperatures were already very toasty.
“Just be glad that it doesn’t rain in Vegas
too much in the summer. Trying to haul this cart around in the rain is a bitch.”
José chuckled and pointed the way. “The one thing about cleaning around construction
sites is you get fresh dirt every day. The wind really stirs it up.”
All together, there were six clusters of trailers:
Human Resources, Accounting, Purchasing, Engineering, Security and Operations.
Cray noted that all the mobile trailers were of similar steel structure. He
thought it was strange to see the ‘GE’ label on each trailer. ‘Funny,’ he
thought, ‘the same company that makes fridges is in the trailer business.’
Throughout the tour, José would give Cray little tidbits of information about
special issues in cleaning each space. Finally, they arrived at the last cluster
of trailers. There was a sign stating, “Barcelona Casino and Resort – Operations”
by the door of one of them.
“You grab the broom, mop and bucket; I’ll take
the vacuum and dusting rags,” José ordered.
Cray went ahead and held the door open for
his new supervisor. Inside was a modest linoleum-tiled reception area with
hallways running off either side of the entrance. Beyond the receptionist’s
desk and filing cabinets was an open door to a carpeted office.
“This is the boss’s office I was telling you
about. He’s the only one with carpeting. Let’s get his space done and then
we’ll take care of the other offices in this trailer cluster.” José stepped
aside and gestured for Cray to enter first.
“This is a pretty nice…” Cray suddenly stopped
just inside the door when he saw a man sitting at the desk. In addition to
the desk and computer workstation, the office contained a small conference
table and an area that contained a sofa and easy chairs.
“Well, looks like either I’ve stayed too long
or you’re early,” said the man who was wearing a shirt and tie. “Never seen
you before,” he added as he stood. “José, how are you doing? Don’t see you
very often, either.”
“Oh, Mr. Reichardt, I’m sorry to disturb you.
Thought you’d be at your meeting over at the office building. I’m just breaking
in a new man and showing him around. He’ll be taking care of your spaces by
himself starting tomorrow. This is Cray. Cray Gamble.”
“Please, don’t be so formal. Cray, welcome
to the group. You can call me Drew…just like José usually does.” He walked
around from the desk and extended his hand. “Last names are a nuisance when
we’re under the gun to get this place built.”
“Nice to meet you, Sir…I mean, Drew.” Cray
was surprised that this man – Drew Reichardt – was the boss he’d been told
about. He judged that Drew was maybe 10 or 12 years older than his age.
“Just help me keep the place squared away and
we’ll be in good shape. José, how’s your family?”
“They’re all out of school right now so my
wife is keeping busy,” José said with a proud grin.
“I look forward to seeing them at our company
picnic later this summer. Cray, just for your information, I’m usually out
of here late every afternoon for a briefing with my boss. So whenever you
want to come in here after that, it’ll be fine. Today, my being here is just
a fluke.”
“I’ll do my best to keep things the way you
like them. If there’s anything that you need, just let me know.” Cray already
felt comfortable even at this initial meeting. He’d still try to be careful
and evaluate this man at every turn. ‘Drew seems to be cool though,’ he thought.
‘But I only just met him. He must be a smart guy to have a job like this.’
“Why don’t you come back a little later? I’ve
got some paper work I’ve got to get finished if we’re going to open on time.
I should be out of here in a couple of hours.”
“We’ve got lots of work to do. You have a good
evening and we’ll take care of everything.” José motioned for Cray to leave
the office. “See you soon.”
Once they were out in front of the trailer,
José stowed the vacuum on the cart. He started walking and smiled as Cray
automatically pushed the cart along to another cluster of trailers without
being told. For the rest of the shift, José patiently trained Cray to thoroughly
clean the spaces. By the time they were finished and returned the cart to
the storage shed, it was just before 1:00 a.m. José seemed satisfied that
his new crewmember had learned the job and told Cray he was on his own tomorrow
evening. Cray changed back into his street clothes, grabbed his backpack and
tucked in a few changes of underwear next to the dopp kit. He signed the timesheet
and walked to the security gate. It was just 1:15 a.m. and the desert air
had cooled considerably.
While Cray waited for his ride, he thought
about the past 24 hours and wondered what had happened once Gene woke up from
his forcibly induced sleep. Cray nervously thought about his mother and the
note that he had left on the dining room table. ‘Wonder what her reaction
was when she got home and found the perv sprawled out on the couch?’ Cray
shook his head and realized it was the first time he had consciously thought
of his over-weight step dad as a pervert. ‘What else could he be?’ An approaching
vehicle whose headlights had just been flashed interrupted his thoughts.
Cray stood a little straighter and shielded
his eyes with his hand when the white Honda Accord coupe stopped. The tinted
window lowered and a blond guy’s handsome head popped out. “If you’re Cray…hop
in. I’m Spike.”
“Hey, Spike. I’m your man.” Cray walked around
and got into the car. “It’s a bitch working at night and no car to get around
with. Thanks for the pickup.” He smiled, bumped knuckles with the driver and
closed the door. In the short time that the overhead light illuminated the
interior, he judged that Spike was maybe 20-years-old and was impressed at
how nicely he was dressed. The tight pullover shirt clung to his flat, defined
stomach and pumped bi-ceps. Unlike Cray – in cargo shorts and sneakers – Spike
wore pressed slacks and polished shoes.
“Keep your eyes open cuz I’ll follow the same
route as the bus. It’ll come in handy tomorrow.” Spike made a u-turn and eased
onto the moderately busy boulevard and headed south.
“Another first. I’ve not been south of the
construction site.” Cray looked out at all the casinos on either side of the
car.
“This is where a lot of the action is.” Spike
then proceeded to tell Cray about the various casinos as they passed.
“Holy shit…these places are friggin’ cool,
or what?” Cray was amazed at the replica of several New York City landmarks
to his right while a mammoth casino complex with a gigantic lion dominated
the corner on the left. “I’ve seen pictures of all this stuff…it’s just crazy
to see it up close.”
“You really are a newbie, aren’t you?” Spike
asked with a laugh as he angled over to the left turn lane. “New York, New
York” is a fun casino and plays the city theme to the max. And the MGM Grand
is the largest hotel…right now…in Vegas. If you look down the road, you’ll
see the Luxor and Mandalay Bay casinos.” He turned left onto Tropicana Boulevard
and added, “The Trop over there is a beat up place. I’ve never…worked there.
It’s primarily a budget crowd.”
“Where you from?” Cray picked up on Spike saying
he “worked” at the hotels…omitting exactly what he did. ‘I bet Spike has all
kinds of ways to ‘do the nasty’,’ he thought.
“L.A. Got here a couple of years ago. Mario
spotted me at a gay bar and made me an offer I couldn’t refuse,” Spike said
with a chuckle. “He said you’re new in town and got a legit job at the Barcelona.
That’s goin’ to be the hot place this season.”
“I started tonight. I plan on doing well…it’s
a whole new start for me.” Cray thought about his life change as the larger-than-life
neon facades disappeared behind them.
“You may not know it, Cray, but you’ve gotten
involved with a couple of movers and shakers. Mario and Mighty Joe are plugged
into this city.”
“Mighty Joe?”
“Oh…you haven’t met him. Joe Strollo is the
big boss and we all call him Mighty Joe. No disrespect at all. He makes things
happen in this town. You’ll probably meet him very soon.”
Cray nodded and watched the city scene – he
could be in any town in America at this point…all the fast food franchises
blended together – and vaguely noted the various street signs. At Eastern
Avenue, Spike pointed out the bus stop for the transfer Cray would need to
make when taking the bus, as he turned south. They drove further into an unremarkable
suburban landscape until another turn brought the car onto a quiet residential
street with large homes set back.
“Here’s the house,” Spike said as he pulled
into a driveway marked with large posts on either side.
“House? It looks more like a ritzy motel.”
Cray’s eyes widened as the car slowly approached a large, sprawling one-story
structure. The architecture, he decided, was similar to the adobe, Southwestern
style he had seen only in books. The soft lighting that lined the driveway
and bathed the house suggested manicured landscaping.
“I guess you can say that Mario has a nice
company perk. Mighty Joe built this for the top revenue producers who work
for him. Think of this as a fraternity house and Mario is the house mom,”
Spike said with a chuckle. He passed the house and drove behind a separate
garage structure to a large parking area.
“How many guys live here? I assume that it’s
men only.” Cray took note that there were eight other cars parked and still
several open spaces when they came to a stop.
“Let’s see…there’s twelve of us plus Mario.
We each share a bedroom and there’s a fulltime housekeeper who cooks. Your
company, Galaxy Services, cleans the place once a week. Come on in. I’ll give
you a quick tour on the way to Mario’s room.” Spike got out of the car and
waited for Cray to catch up with him. “To answer your other question, there’s
another house across the street for the puss…um…female associates. Mario’s
girlfriend …well, make that former at this point… looks after that end of
the business.”
“Kinda like it’s all in the family,” Cray said
as they approached a rear door to the main house. He was intrigued about Mario’s
mostly straight life and wondered if he would meet the former girlfriend.
He wanted to ask more but felt it wasn’t appropriate.
“Yeah…but I would be very careful about saying
anything about ‘family’ around here. Just think of it as a word best left
unsaid.” Spike opened the door and motioned for Cray to follow him into a
large, modern kitchen. “The one refrigerator by the door is for us. It has
juice, milk, sodas and snacks. It’s the only fridge that we’re allowed to
get into. The other one with the double doors is off base. Only the housekeeper
opens it.”
Cray made mental notes about the layout as
they silently skirted the dining room and living room to the front entry to
the house. The furnishings and décor were very masculine, he thought, and
not what would be considered plush. It appeared that the Southwest theme dominated
the interior.
“This is the front door…but I don’t think I’ve
ever used it. All the bedrooms and the entertainment center are down this
hallway. Come on…Mario’s bedroom is around the corner at the end.”
“Pretty sweet,” Cray replied.
“You said it. Most of the guys haven’t had
the greatest home life so this is really neat. Built-in brothers and cool
surroundings.”
“So,
what happens if you don’t…ah…produce enough business?” They passed the entertainment
center and a couple of closed doors before turning a corner. He spotted double
doors where the hallway stopped.
“Living here is the carrot for hard work. It’s
pretty straightforward; you get a couple of warnings if you don’t bring home
enough bread and then it’s bye-bye. There are plenty of others who’d give
their left nut to be here. The ‘bookings’ are all done by appointment but
the real bread is developing a repeat clientele.”
“So you don’t work…by yourself on the…?” Cray
asked.
“On the street? Naw, that’s something I’d never
do. Our escort gigs are all scheduled by reservation – like renting a car.
Another fast way to get you on the shit list is to get involved with drugs.
That’s a subject that isn’t even open for negotiation. My last roomie got
hooked on meth.” Spike shrugged as they came to the double door. He knocked
and added, “Mario said he’d wait up for you.”
The door opened and a boxers-clad Mario greeted
the guys. “Thanks for bringing Cray to the house, Spike. I’ll take care of
him from here.”
“Hey, thanks for the ride.” Cray tapped fists
with Spike and walked into the suite while Mario closed the door. He couldn’t
help but admire the stud who was his host. He thought Mario’s body looked
flawless. ‘Guess he must work out a lot,’ he judged. ‘No wonder he was in
demand.’ He discretely checked out the muscular form in front of him…like
he usually did in the school locker room.
Cray compared Mario’s dark, furry hair patterns to his own mostly-smooth
body. The image of his real dad flashed briefly in his mind…the first adult
he’d seen naked. ‘Daddy didn’t have much hair either,’ he remembered.
“Earth to Cray. You zoning out on me?” Mario
said with a laugh.
“Naw. Something triggered a memory…that’s all.
These are pretty nice digs.” Cray looked at the king bed and furniture before
seeing the large, wall-hung, flat-panel TV screen. “You sure it’s okay crashing
here?”
“It’s a big bed and you’ll only be here a couple
nights. And I hope you know that you’re safe here. The last thing that’s on
my mind is jumping your underage bones. If you want to take a shower or use
the can, it’s through that door. I’m going to the kitchen for a drink. By
the way, do whatever you want…but I usually sleep in boxers.”
“Thanks for the heads up. I’ll take a shower
and brush my teeth.” Cray set down his backpack on a chair and watched Mario
leave the room. ‘Phew,’ he thought when he took a whiff of his pits. ‘One
shower and shampoo coming up.’ Off came the sneakers and all the clothes.
He put them neatly in a corner and reached in his backpack for the dopp kit
and a clean pair of briefs. ‘Probably need to shave tomorrow,’ he decided
as he walked into the bathroom.
Ten minutes and one less coating of grime later,
Cray came back to the bedroom and saw Mario stretched out on the far side
of the king bed, under a sheet, reading a magazine. As he got closer, he was
able to study the tattoos – one on each upper arm. The Marine emblem was on
one bicep, a ferocious bulldog on the other with the words, “Semper Fi” underneath.
“Those are neat tats but I don’t understand the dog.” Cray was hesitant to
get into bed and stood at the edge.
“It’s a devil dog; one of the nicknames for
a Marine. Supposedly the Germans called us that during the war cuz we were
such a fuckin’ fierce group of fighters. Hey, hop in the sack…ya waiting for
an invitation?” Mario said as he pulled down the sheet and added, “By the
way, don’t get embarrassed but I think you’re one, hot buff dude. It’s a shame
you’re not an adult…for real. You’d be great in our business. You must work
out.” He grinned and put down the magazine.
“Um…thanks, I guess.” Cray got into bed and
pulled up the sheet to his waist. “I do work out and practice Tai Chi. In
fact, is there some place I could practice tomorrow?”
“Out by the pool is the best place. You can
wear shorts or be butt-naked. There’s only guys here and most are used to
skinny dipping.”
“I’ve got some gym shorts in my backpack but
I’m not shy about swimming nude.” Cray decided not to explain that a pair
of balls swinging around during Tai Chi and kicking wasn’t practical.
“Cool. Oh, one more thing – this is a snuggle
zone,” Mario replied with a wink. “Don’t get alarmed if you wake up and I’ve
got an arm or leg over you. I sometimes do that in my sleep. And if that happens…don’t
freak. I won’t take a ‘non-freak out’ as a sign that you’re ready to do ‘it’.”
“But it’s okay to hump the pillow?” Cray laughed
out loud at the idea.
“Just wait until I’m outta here…and ya gotta
wash the pillowcase. Speaking of not being here…I’ve got a class at UNLV in
the morning. Don’t worry, though. I’ve made sure everyone, including Mr. Ed,
knows you’re here.”
“Mr. Ed? Like the…”
“Horse. No, but that’s a good one. Mr. Ed is
the housekeeper and cook. Edward Humphrey Wallace is very English and got
used to having his employers only referring to him by his last name. We compromised
with the ‘mister’ and shortened his first name. Seems to work. Okay…lights
out.” Mario turned off the bedside lamp. “And seriously, kid, if you need
a strong shoulder or a hug in the middle of the night, I was serious about
snuggling. Holding on to a warm friend is good medicine.”
“Good night, Mario. I appreciate everything
you’re doing.” Cray closed his eyes and was out for the count before he could
even finish his thoughts about his new friend’s words.
*****
Drew Reichardt counted
the days until his office would move from the complex of construction trailers
in the back lot to a permanent home in the central tower of the new hotel.
If the revised timelines were accurate, relocation would take place on August
1st – in two short weeks – where he would work amongst the interiors
being installed. The ultimate target was the soft opening of Barcelona later
in the fall.
He fingered a new
business card and smiled at the title, Vice President, Hotel Operations –
Barcelona Resort and Casino. Drew’s boss, Nick Maggiano had been a man of
his word. The promise of the promotion as the opening date approached had
not been idle or a lure. The ball-breaking hours Drew gave to keep the project
on track as Nick’s assistant had paid off. Except for some construction delays
due to material shortage – it seemed that everyone was building in Las Vegas
– the 2,000-room hotel, VIP casitas, casino, ballrooms, theme pool, restaurants,
lounges, showroom and shopping arcade would officially be in business by late
October.
The ring of the desk
phone snapped Drew out of his thoughts. He knew that the private line meant
one of two people: his partner, Bob Harrington or his boss, Nick Maggiano.
“This is Drew,” he
said calmly into the receiver. With the exception of the owner, Mr. Al Bromley,
Senior, and potential guests, he was very free with first name exchanges.
~~~ “The gorgeous
guy in the executive trailer who dates this stud in Marketing?” Bob asked.
He had followed Drew to the new casino project six months earlier as a manager
in the marketing department.
“This stud being
you?”
~~~ “Guilty as charged.”
“I would hardly call
living together for over a year and making mad passionate love on a nightly
basis just dating,” Drew said with a chuckle. “But we probably shouldn’t be
discussing our sex lives on the company phone.”
~~~ “Picky, picky…how
ya doin’, babe?”
“Up to my eyeballs
in alligators. Friggin’ budgets for next year are driving me nuts. Whazzup
with you?”
~~~ “Working on the
official grand opening party. My boss has just got Nick to sign off on the
festivities to take place the Monday of Thanksgiving week.”
“So I heard at our
meeting this morning. I’m a little nervous about last minute stuff screwing
up the training and pre-opening…but I guess at some point you gotta ‘just
do it’.”
“Said the man with
the Nikes.”
“Babe, while you’re
up in a plush office tower looking at the strip from your window, I’m schlepping
around down here in the dirt. It’s not all that fun wearing a hard hat whenever
I go out. Although I must admit there are a few construction cuties that are
kinda hot,” Drew said with a chuckle. “And yesterday, Galaxy assigned a young
stud muffin to clean the trailers. I think Manny, who manages the cleaning
service, is trying to suck up to me. Like he really has to worry about the
contract.” Galaxy Services was a division of Gallian Industries – part of
the Bromley corporate empire which included the Barcelona.
“Just so ‘suck up’
is only in the figurative sense. Sounds like you’re having all the fun. Honestly,
I’m looking forward to leaving the rented offices and setting up shop in the
hotel.”
“Two weeks and we’ll
be there…barely. Although Nick says it’ll probably be a good month before
we settle in. The thinking is to move in to the spaces at the earliest date
possible. This supposedly sends a message to the construction guys that we’re
on a deadline and they need to finish the job.”
“I can just imagine
the chaos we’ll experience over the next few months before we open.”
“Let’s get through
the mass hiring first. I’m told that next week all the managers will be interviewing
over 20,000 people for all the hotel and casino positions. First impressions
are going to be really important cuz we’ll only be spending five minutes max
for the initial interview.”
“Kind of like an
assembly-line approach?” Bob asked. “There are what, 100 manager types to
pull this off?”
“Yep…just the basics.
Check grooming standards, rate communication skills and determine primary
job interests. H.R.’s goal is to have 4,000 warm, trainable bodies by Labor
Day.”
“Speaking of warm
bodies, will I see ya at home around seven as usual?”
“Yes. You pick up
the steaks and I’ll handle the wine. I’m ready for a candlelit dinner for
two and some handholding,” Drew purred into the phone.
“Babe, it’s certainly
going to be more than just handholding. I’ll make sure of it.”
_____________________
TO BE CONTINUED