Chapter 136 - The Blood Drive (1/2)

Every early morning, Dale, as general manager of The Residence, gathers up the staff in a quick briefing. All the employees stand in a few rows in the lobby, listening at attention to Dale's talk. While this seems unnecessary—they are serving only one person, for crying out loud—Dale knows that the entire building has so many moving parts, and he wants to be always on top of every possible situation. After all, if any small part of the single-serving boutique hotel deteriorates, it would be his ȧss on the line, answerable to Gabriel Tan.

He had just arrived from the hospital. The staff, consisting of housekeeping, to security, to chefs, already know about the crisis with their boss. ”Sir Miguel is, so far, in a stable condition,” Dale says, not really fully confident that Miguel's stable. But he has to keep up appearances. ”And we have to be extra attentive to what we do, just in case our services are needed beyond the walls of this building.”

When the Concierge desk's phone begins ringing, almost everybody turns to it with bated breath.

Dale stares at the phone, his heart pounding. Might it be from the hospital, bearing bad news?

”Should I answer it, Sir?” Lucille says, who is standing right in the front line. ”Maybe it's an emergency. Maybe it's Miss Claire?”

Jesus, Dale thinks. Can we panic some more?

Warily, he picks up the phone, like he's afraid it might bite him. ”Hello?”

”You should have picked up the phone next century,” Mrs. Gomez's raspy voice blasts his ears. ”Five rings, Dale. That's atrocious!”

”I-I'm sorry, Ma'am,” Dale says, instantly recognizing who it is. ”I was briefing the staff and—”

”Goodness! I'm just right on time, then!” she says. ”Listen, Dale. Did you know what happened with the Tans?”

”Yes, I—”

”Good! Then listen to me closely. Miguel Tan needs blood. It's an emergency.”

”I know. Because I—”

”This is a super emergency, Dale! I already spoke with the president of that hospital. It's true that they don't have any stored blood that can be received by Miguel Tan. There was a recent surge in dengue fever cases that depleted much of their stocks. They tried the nearby blood banks. None. The problem is, Miguel's blood type is super rare. AB negative, do you hear? So I need you to ask your good men and women over there if any of them would have the good heart to try to donate, if they can.”

”Well, absolutely!” Dale looks around even as he speaks to the phone. ”Ma'am, what blood types can serve as donors?”

Mrs. Gomez is stumped; she didn't ask. ”What the hell, just ask everybody who's willing to go over the hospital. Let the learned folks over there decide.”

”But there are dozens of us here, Ma'am, how about—”

”Make it absolutely simple, Dale,” Mrs. Gomez says finally in her [email protected] tone. ”Just ask them if they can help you or not. We're not forcing anyone. This is completely voluntary.”

Dale pauses. Of course, nothing's voluntary here. There's something about Mrs. Gomez's tone that says, if we don't see you at the hospital, you're marked. ”Yes, Ma'am. I will be on it.”

After Mrs. Gomez hangs up, Dale faces the crowd. He clears his throat. He wonders how many of them would volunteer. ”That was our boss's right-hand woman. As you know, Miguel Tan had an accident earlier here, right in the lounge. Some of you had the unfortunate task of cleaning up the blood and the mess. You've seen how much blood that was.” He takes a deep breath, gazing at their faces. ”Miguel Tan, our boss's beloved brother, is hanging on for dear life. They're asking for anyone who might donate some blood. It was a delicate situation, and what they need is not readily available. So they're asking if some of you might be willing to come with me to the hospital and see if we can be a donor.”