This Charming Man

Seventeen

"Brendon, are you sure I don't smell?" Ryan asked me for the hundredth time that morning. He hadn't got the chance to shower that morning since Spencer's alarm, or really it was our alarm, hadn't gone off and I'd woken to Ryan shaking me in blind panic, yelling at me that we were late and Mr Wentz was going to disembowel us. We were only half an hour late and had managed to sneak down into the restaurant to set up the tables without Mr Wentz catching us.

"No, Ryan, you don't fucking smell. Shut up," I grumbled, taking cutlery from him and placing it on the table neatly.

He lifted his arm to sniff anyway and before I could make a comment, Spencer bustled passed with a vase of flowers to replace a centre piece and nodded to me. "Mr Wentz wants you, Brendon."

I groaned and rolled my eyes. "For fuck sake," I said and put my cutlery tray down.

Ryan frowned and looked between me and Spencer. "What for?"

Spencer shrugged. "The same thing he always wants Brendon for, I guess."

I frowned slightly and looked down. "I'll see you guys later then."

"We'll be clearing out bath 12 this morning, Brendon," Spencer reminded me and I waved my hand in acknowledgement as I left the restaurant.

Mr Wentz wasn't at his usual seat behind his desk in the reception and I glanced round in confusion.

"Mr Wentz?" I called, ringing the bell on the desk and Mr Wentz's face suddenly emerged from behind the curtain of his storeroom behind his desk.

"Oh, yes, Urie," he said and disappeared again. He pushed the curtain back to expose messy shelves stacked up to the ceiling with guest books. In the back were several large boxes labelled "LOST PROPERTY" in Mr Wentz's barely legible scrawl.

"Hold the curtain for me, Urie," he said and I quickly joined him behind the desk and held the curtain up for him. I watched Mr Wentz move several messy piles of guest books onto his desk before he stopped to catch his breath.

"Right. Mr Weekes wants you now. And Mr Trohman wants your help in his office after you're done."

I paused and stared at Mr Wentz, my eyes wide. "M-Mr Trohman?"

He nodded. "File arranging and stuff. Should keep you busy for a bit and out of trouble. You can put the curtain down now," Mr Wentz said and took his place in his chair.

"A-are you sure Mr Trohman wants my help?" I asked, walking round to the front again.

"He said send anyone who isn't too work laden. And all you, Ross and Smith have to do today is clean bath 12 and I'm sure Ross and Smith can manage that themselves. Now go on, don't keep Mr Weekes waiting."

I swallowed and headed on up to Mr Weekes' room. I was suddenly hoping Mr Weekes wouldn't be too fussed about being late for work because the idea of spending the morning with Mr Trohman scared the shit out of me. I'd only seen him a few times around the bath house and had never spoken to him. I was taught from day one of working here to have to utmost respect for Mr Trohman, no matter what time, day or season it was. Surely Mr Wentz was making a horrible mistake sending me up to work for Mr Trohman. Surely someone like Gerard or Jon would be much better suited, with all the experience behind them. But clearly not.