Mind Your Manners
“Are you always this much of a bitch?” he asked as he went to collect the dinner tray and the remaining items scattered around my room that needed to be returned to the kitchen.
I ignored him. Inconsequential busboy.
He snorted under his breath. “Obviously I’m right on the money,” he said, dropping things none too gently onto the trolley.
I continued to ignore him.
“So, do bitch classes come for free with all the PR stuff you learn or do they cost you extra?”
I still tried to ignore him – but it was becoming increasing difficult.
“Let them know they’ve gotten their money’s worth. You’re real good at it. First Class bitch, in my opinion.”
This guy was getting to me. Usually, I just ignored the likes of him. This one, however, was really bringing out my Queen B. He ain’t seen nothing yet.
I turned to look at him, my most distasteful sneer plastered on my face.
“You won’t be able to afford the cigarettes you smoke by the time I’m finished with you. You don’t get paid to bad mouth the clientele, and after one little phone call, Edward,” I said, looking at his name tag, “you won’t be getting paid at all.”
“You won’t be the first to try and get me fired, and you won’t be the last either, I suspect, but quite frankly, I don’t give a shit. I’d love to see you try, in fact.”
“Watch me and weep, busboy.”
“Be my guest,” Edward answered, even going to the trouble of lifting the receiver off the phone on the bedside table.
Taken aback, I sauntered across to him and snatched the receiver from his hand before promptly dialling "9" and waiting for reception to answer. I squared off against him, trying to level him with my cold glare, but that wasn’t exactly helpful with the fact that he was a good eight to ten inches taller than me. Still, I gave it my best shot. I wasn’t an actress for nothing. I knew how to work it.
“Hello. I’d like to speak with the manager.”
“Please,” he whispered into my face. “I’d like to talk with the manager, please.
This guy was awfully cocky for someone who was about to lose his job.
“Yes. Hello. I wish to make a complaint against one of your busboys.”
“Really? Which one?” the manager asked politely.
“Edward...” I said, trailing off at the end. If he was going to talk to me, he may as well be useful.
“Cullen,” he said obligingly.
“Cullen,” I repeated into the phone.
That was the only response I got. That didn’t seem right. I frowned.
“Well?” I asked, taken aback that the manager didn’t seem more interested in the exact nature of my complaint.
“Mr Cullen is a special case, Ms Swan.”
“A special case?” I repeated.
“Yes. Mr Cullen is employed here under special circumstances. His position, while temporary, is non-negotiable.”
“I see,” I replied, turning my back on Edward the busboy, trying to collect my thoughts. Usually I had more clout than this.
“I can have him assigned elsewhere, if you’d prefer, so that you don’t have to deal with him again.”
“Yes. That would be fine. Much better.”
“Thank you,” Edward whispered again, this time from behind me, close to my ear.
“Thank you,” I said, automatically before turning abruptly and giving him my very best evil glare.
“You’re welcome, Ms Swan. Is there anything else I can do for you?” the manager asked pleasantly.
“Ah...” I paused, thinking quickly. “Can you arrange for the gym to be cleared tonight by eight o’clock? I’d like to exercise in private.”
“Of course, Ms Swan.”
“Good. And I’d like three bottles of Evian water, non sparkling, there waiting for me.”
“As you wish.”
“Good,” I said unceremoniously before hanging up. Who the hell was this guy that he couldn't be fired?
“Manners cost nothing, you know,” Edward the busboy said, smirking and looking down at me.
“Well, you should be able to afford to use them, then,” I answered acidly. This guy was starting to annoy the crap out of me.
“I use them with people who deserve respect. You don’t measure up.”
“Excuse me?” I asked, my voice rising to that really high, whiny level that I so didn’t like and tried to keep under wraps at all times. This guy was really starting to get to me.
“People who treat others with respect, get respect back. You treat everyone around you like dirt and it sucks, so you don’t get my respect. You haven’t earned it.”
“I’m a world famous actress. I’ve earned the respect of directors and peers throughout the entire industry. I have producers begging me to look at their next projects. I have plenty of respect. Respect from the likes of you, however, means very little to me. I don’t need it so it’s unimportant to me.”
Busboy Edward turned his head to the side slightly and regarded me closely. Wow. Those eyes were amazing.
“Do you always approach life like that? If you don’t need it, it’s unimportant.”
“I have plenty, and what I want, I can get. What I don’t need, I don’t bother with.”
“Hmm. Definitely a first class bitch. You’ve just confirmed it.”
“Move it along, busboy Edward,” I said in my best dismissive tone. “I don’t want you. I don’t need you, so I definitely don’t need to bother with you.”
“Where’s your next stay over on this whistle stop promotional tour you’re on?” Edward asked as he collected the trolley and began to move toward the door.
“London,” I answered, wondering why I even bothered.
“Good luck with that,” he said, leaving the room without another word.
“Prick,” I muttered under my breath.
It was two hours later when I received a call from the producer of my current film.
“Bella? We have a problem with London.”
“Really? I thought it was all organized.”
“The hotel just contacted us. Our booking’s been cancelled.”
“We’re trying to sort things out now, but our promotions department is having a hard time getting you booked in anywhere else.”
“Well find something. The whole of London can’t be booked out, surely.”
“Do you know someone by the name of Cullen? Carlisle Cullen?”
I was distracted by a knock on the door. I glanced over toward it to find an envelope being pushed through underneath it.
“I’ve got to go, Bella. Don’t worry; we’ll work something out.”
I frowned and hung up the call before crossing the room to pick up the envelope.
I opened it, expecting to see some kind of plea from another annoying fan. but I scowled at the business card in my hands as I read the hastily inscribed message on it.
How’s London working out for ya?
Cullen Holdings Inc
Hotels where you need them most.