“I have a problem with the island,” Wallace said to his assistant Melanie, as the two sat in his study overlooking a gorgeous view of a lagoon sunset.
Melanie wanted to roll her eyes, but did not. She knew her boss. They were on Wallace’s private island, built to the billionaire’s exact specifications. The house stood on a former volcano, but lush vegetation filled the island. There was a full gym on the island, with country club quality. A five-star restaurant for preparing all the meals was located south of the mansion., There was a resort-style pool, an 18-hole golf course an no bugs on the island.
“What’s the problem?” Melanie asked.
“It’s the bartender,” Wallace said.
“He’s the best,” Melanie said. “Enrique has bartended for the highest of clients in Dubai. He’s bartended at the top echelons of Las Vegas parties. He even has his own cocktail named after him.”
“He’s very qualified, but he complains.”
“What did he say?” Melanie asked.
“He said he misses his friends and family,” Wallace said.
“He said that?”
“Yes, after I asked him if he missed his friends and family.”
“I’ll talk to him,” Melanie said, pretending to write down a note. There was no way on or off the island, so Enrique had not seen his friends or family in months.
“Someday, this will be paradise,” Wallace said. He turned away from the view of the sunset and turned the television station to the golf channel.