Read Online The Fat Innkeeper by Alan Russell - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Alan Russell
Tags: Suspense
Ads: Link
pretenders to the throne. The kid was wearing his defensiveness. It fit about as well as his sports jacket, which was
a couple of sizes too large for him, probably his father’s. The tie he was wearing had gone out of style about the year he
was born.
“What else did Fletcher tell you?” asked Am.
“That you and others would be jealous. That you’d try and confuse me, and trick me into thinking there had been some mistake
about my being hired.”
“And what were you supposed to do while all this trickery was going on?”
“Remain in this office and wait for Mr. Yamada. He’s going to explain everything to all of you.”
Am sighed. The staff thought these periodic visits by the “new” managers were hilarious, but the joke wasn’t only on Takei;
the kid was involved too. He was serious, and his lip was trembling a little. Everything was going like the script he had
been presented, a script Am was beginning to resent more and more.
“And what did Mr. Fletcher tell you to do if we insisted you leave this office?”
Larry was never going to be wearing a Phi Beta Kappa key, but he seemed a nice enough fellow. He hadn’t yet learned business
poker, how to hold cards, and bluff, and up the ante. “He said that I should refuse. That I was just to wait for Mr. Yamada.”
Fletcher undoubtedly thought that involving the Fat Innkeeper would make his joke that much more special.
“And now that you’re sitting here, Larry, does that advice, or anything else Mr. Fletcher told you, make any sense?”
The teen didn’t respond, but he sure did seem to be thinking. He face showed his growing doubts.
“We don’t know who this Mr. Fletcher is,” said Am. “The only thing we do know is that he is obviously angry with the Hotel,
and is using young men like you to get back at us. I could call for help. There are a few people on this staff who’d probably
enjoy dragging you screaming out of this office, but that’s not what I want to do.”
The kid sank into the chair. “I just came here looking for a job,” Larry said. “A good job.”
Fletcher had played on a universal fantasy. The Horatio Alger rags-to-riches through hard-work stories have never been as
popular in this country as the Rita Hayworth fables. To be human is to await discovery, whether at a Schwab’s drugstore or
at a bus stop. Larry had been seduced by a Publishers Clearing House mentality, the idea that fate’s finger had just been
itching to tap him on the shoulder. Naïveté was the only requirement for the “job” he had landed.
“I can’t promise you a job,” said Am, “good or otherwise. But I can get you an interview with Linda Gold, the Hotel’s
real
human-resources director.”
Am’s offer didn’t immediately win the kid over. Maybe he really was GM material. But it did prevail over the histrionics that
Fletcher obviously wanted. Larry reluctantly rose from his chair. He’d recover. We all find out about Santa Claus someday.
“No one’s in personnel yet,” said Am. “How about I buy you a cup of coffee first?”
Larry preferred cocoa to coffee, and asked for extra marshmallow topping. At first he was quiet, perhaps a little ashamed,
but then he began to open up to Am, asking him questions about the Hotel. Am forgot about Larry’s youthfulness, and how his
belief system was still intact. Am didn’t take things with a grain of salt, just assumed he was dealing with Lot’s wife unless
he discovered otherwise. When Larry asked him how long he had worked in the hotel business, Am told him he wasn’t sure whether
he should answer in human years or dog years. His cynical assessments on life, and the hotel industry in general, scared Larry.
“I’m beginning to think,” said the young man, “that I shouldn’t apply for any job here.”
The kid’s solemn pronouncement made Am feel like a pretty bad career counselor. “Look,” he said, “if you’re a people junkie,
working in
a couple of sizes too large for him, probably his father’s. The tie he was wearing had gone out of style about the year he
was born.
“What else did Fletcher tell you?” asked Am.
“That you and others would be jealous. That you’d try and confuse me, and trick me into thinking there had been some mistake
about my being hired.”
“And what were you supposed to do while all this trickery was going on?”
“Remain in this office and wait for Mr. Yamada. He’s going to explain everything to all of you.”
Am sighed. The staff thought these periodic visits by the “new” managers were hilarious, but the joke wasn’t only on Takei;
the kid was involved too. He was serious, and his lip was trembling a little. Everything was going like the script he had
been presented, a script Am was beginning to resent more and more.
“And what did Mr. Fletcher tell you to do if we insisted you leave this office?”
Larry was never going to be wearing a Phi Beta Kappa key, but he seemed a nice enough fellow. He hadn’t yet learned business
poker, how to hold cards, and bluff, and up the ante. “He said that I should refuse. That I was just to wait for Mr. Yamada.”
Fletcher undoubtedly thought that involving the Fat Innkeeper would make his joke that much more special.
“And now that you’re sitting here, Larry, does that advice, or anything else Mr. Fletcher told you, make any sense?”
The teen didn’t respond, but he sure did seem to be thinking. He face showed his growing doubts.
“We don’t know who this Mr. Fletcher is,” said Am. “The only thing we do know is that he is obviously angry with the Hotel,
and is using young men like you to get back at us. I could call for help. There are a few people on this staff who’d probably
enjoy dragging you screaming out of this office, but that’s not what I want to do.”
The kid sank into the chair. “I just came here looking for a job,” Larry said. “A good job.”
Fletcher had played on a universal fantasy. The Horatio Alger rags-to-riches through hard-work stories have never been as
popular in this country as the Rita Hayworth fables. To be human is to await discovery, whether at a Schwab’s drugstore or
at a bus stop. Larry had been seduced by a Publishers Clearing House mentality, the idea that fate’s finger had just been
itching to tap him on the shoulder. Naïveté was the only requirement for the “job” he had landed.
“I can’t promise you a job,” said Am, “good or otherwise. But I can get you an interview with Linda Gold, the Hotel’s
real
human-resources director.”
Am’s offer didn’t immediately win the kid over. Maybe he really was GM material. But it did prevail over the histrionics that
Fletcher obviously wanted. Larry reluctantly rose from his chair. He’d recover. We all find out about Santa Claus someday.
“No one’s in personnel yet,” said Am. “How about I buy you a cup of coffee first?”
Larry preferred cocoa to coffee, and asked for extra marshmallow topping. At first he was quiet, perhaps a little ashamed,
but then he began to open up to Am, asking him questions about the Hotel. Am forgot about Larry’s youthfulness, and how his
belief system was still intact. Am didn’t take things with a grain of salt, just assumed he was dealing with Lot’s wife unless
he discovered otherwise. When Larry asked him how long he had worked in the hotel business, Am told him he wasn’t sure whether
he should answer in human years or dog years. His cynical assessments on life, and the hotel industry in general, scared Larry.
“I’m beginning to think,” said the young man, “that I shouldn’t apply for any job here.”
The kid’s solemn pronouncement made Am feel like a pretty bad career counselor. “Look,” he said, “if you’re a people junkie,
working in