“Since you asked, you do,” I replied without leaving space for the dumbass to argue. As prospects, if we told them to jump, their one and only job was to ask how high.
“Fuck my life,” he breathed under his breath. My jaw clenched.
“Excuse me? I asked silently but deadly.
“He didn’t say anything, right, Turner?” Jenkins stepped between me and the Turd Head, like I enjoyed calling him. The ass simply grunted.
“Right,” he said tightly, his lips pressed in a thin line.
With the way he was looking at me, I knew he didn’t like me, and I didn’t give two shits. I’d been a patched member for over a decade. The kid was so young he barely knew his ass from a hole on the ground.
“Go get the Vicks, then.” I waved him off and glanced at Jenkins. “Get cooking.”
They scurried away like rats sensing a rainstorm. “Jesus, I forget what a prick you can be,” Stone teased before he coughed. I didn’t blink.
“They deserve it,” I muttered with a shrug. “Something about them…” I grimaced, and Stone grunted his agreement. “Anyhow, you need anything else?”
He started to shake his head and then groaned. When he lifted his palm to his forehead, I could see how much just moving his arm hurt him.
“Shit, I forgot,” he muttered and was about to try to stand when I pressed a hand to his shoulder to keep him where he was.
“What’s up?” I asked.
“I have to go down to housekeeping today.”
“Housekeeping.” I made a face. “Put it off,” I suggested, but he shook his head.
“Can’t. Pope wants me to talk to them.”
“About?”
“About being a little more… discreet.”
“What?” My brows bunched. Just looking around this place, knowing what had gone on yesterday, told me the women who worked for us were fucking wizards of their damn craft. Like witches with magical powers, they had cleaned this place up before I’d even been up and hadn’t left a speck of dust in their wake.
“Some prick complained down on the fourth floor,” Stone shared.
“Fuck.” The third and fourth floor held the ten hotel rooms where exclusive members stayed. “About?”
“About how he bumped into one in the hallway.” His eyes grew heavy and he started to slur a bit. Shit. He wasn’t doing that great.
“He bumped into one of our housekeepers, and that was a problem?” I asked, trying to understand the situation.
“He didn’t use that word but?—“
“What he say?”
“That maids shouldn’t be seen or heard or some shit.” He coughed and groaned, shutting his eyes.
“Maids,” I mumbled. “Who bitched?” My jaw clenched. An array of people partied at our members-only club, Elysium. And fewer were given the opportunity to stay in the hotel. Usually, they only stayed for a night, but with our Prez’s approval, they could stay longer.
“Who knows? You know the people who stay at the hotel are entitled as fuck. Stupid billionaires and celebrities who think their shit don’t stink. Pope looked torn when he talked to me. Like he didn’t want to make me talk to them but…”
“Hmm,” I muttered.
Usually, everyone I’d met at Elysium was cool as hell. Down to earth, just trying to avoid being caught in the public eye and have their picture snapped. But all sorts of shit went down at Elysium. It wasn’t just dancing, drinking, and gambling. Deals were brokered more often in our exclusive five-star restaurant and at poker tables than in boardrooms.
“I’ll go for you and talk to them.”