"Then explain it."
He stared.
For a moment, I could see his frustration at being asked to articulate something he believed should be obvious.
Finally, he said, "You should have remained professional."
I swallowed.
"What would professionalism have required?"
He frowned.
"Not escalating the situation."
I looked down.
Then asked quietly, "When Mr. Whitmore threw the menu at my feet and challenged me, should I have remained silent?"
Paul hesitated.
"Guests sometimes behave poorly."
I nodded.
"And when they do?"
He sighed.
"We try to manage it discreetly."
Teresa leaned forward.
"She was trying to take a lunch order. He created a spectacle."
Paul looked toward her.
"Teresa, please."
She didn't move.
Paul turned back to me.
"The hotel has a reputation to protect."
I felt my chest tighten.
There it was again.
Reputation.
The same word Northbridge used when I reported the forty-million-dollar discrepancy.
I took a slow breath.
"And employees?"
Paul frowned.
"What?"
"Do employees have a reputation and dignity worth protecting too?"
He stared.
The question seemed to irritate him more than anything else I had said.
Finally, he looked toward the schedule on his desk.
"I'm placing you off duty pending review."
Teresa began to speak.
I touched her arm.
She stopped.
I looked toward Paul.
"Is that suspension?"
"For now, you're not scheduled."
"Will I be paid for today's completed hours?"
He hesitated.
"Payroll will be processed according to policy."
I nodded.
"Please confirm the decision and the review process in writing."
His expression changed.
For a moment, I saw recognition.
Not of my professional history.
Of the fact that I understood documentation.
He leaned back.
"Fine."
I stood.
Then asked one more question.
"Will the hotel preserve the security footage?"
Paul frowned.
"Why?"
"Because the incident involved thrown property, a public wager, and a potentially disputed account of what happened."
He stared.
Teresa looked toward me.
Paul's face tightened.
"We handle our security records appropriately."
I nodded.