by Alexa Davis
Troy never took me when he went out for a buy, so the only experience I have with acquiring new pieces is people bringing their stuff into the shop. I was hoping the glass was already installed, or at least that I could get someone out here today to take care of it, but until that happens, there’s not much I can do.
As I sit here on what still feels like the wrong side of Troy’s desk, I can’t stop thinking about how quickly this town that I’ve lived in my entire life, these people I’ve known forever could just turn on me so fast. I didn’t have to do anything but catch the eye of a powerful man: that was enough for everyone to decide they hate me.
It’s not fair, but stating that fact has never changed anything for anyone.
Still, as I sit here, I’m finding it increasingly difficult to keep my teeth unclenched, my fists unclenched.
I’ve done nothing to these people, yet when their golden goose turns out to just be a guy with a company and no personal investment in any of their lives, they go after me? I wonder if Troy was still alive when they broke the window or if they desecrated this place after word of his death spread.
Neither possibility seems human, much less reasonable.
I grab my phone and call the Mario’s Glass back, tapping my fingernails on the desk as the line rings.
“Mario’s Glass where every day is clear and bright,” the woman I talked to a few minutes ago answers.
“Yeah, this is Ellie over at Rory’s,” I say. “I’m going to need someone to come by today, or I’m going with someone else.”
The woman sighs loudly. “I know you like to think you’re too new here to be a part of this community, but we’re the only glass shop in town.”
“That’s fine,” I tell her. “I’ll just let Grant know that you’re not pulling your weight. Come to think about it, the call probably shouldn’t come from me. That’s all right, though. There are a few people in this town who still speak to me. I’m sure with enough complaints, Grant will have you reassigned in no time. Where’d the last person who wasn’t living up to their potential end up?” I ask. “I think it was sewer duty, wasn’t it? I know you like to think I’m too new here to be a part of this community, but I’ve lived here my whole life, and I know how this town runs, so maybe you just do your job and put the work order through.”
From an objective viewpoint, Nick is by far the most powerful individual I’ve ever met. In Mulholland, though, Grant is the one with all the cards, and he does not tolerate someone failing at a job in which he’s placed them.
Those who get on Grant’s bad side don’t easily find their way back off it again.
The woman groans. “I’ll have someone over there today, but that’s the only time you get to pull that card,” she says.
“Thanks for all your help,” I say in my brightest, cheeriest voice. “You’ve been great.”
I hang up the phone just in time to accidentally send Naomi’s incoming call to voicemail. When she calls back a few seconds later, the strangest thing happens, and I accidentally ignore that one, too.
There’s enough adrenaline in my veins I might just tell Naomi Max’s attack command and hope she repeats it loudly enough for him to hear it. The word is “creep,” but that’s neither here nor there.
Some guys come by after an hour or so to get the front window of the store replaced, but not one of them will look at me, even when speaking directly to me. I’d let my venom loose on them, but it’s a lot easier to threaten someone over the phone.
The first ten minutes they’re there, the only thing any of the workers says to me is, “Clean up all this glass before someone gets hurt, you idiot.”
Insult aside, before the men got here to replace the window, I tried the best I could to do just that. It’s hard when there’s so much glass over so much floor and all there is to clean with is an old push broom that’s missing so many bristles it’s just as likely to gouge the floor as move anything.
Still, I’ve had about all the conflict I’m in the mood for today, so I grab the broom anyway and flip it upside down to use the metal part of the brush strictly. It makes a terrible screeching noise going across the floor, but it’s moving the glass.
I’m most of the way done piling all the glass into one corner of the shop when one of the men working on the window, Alan, comes over and puts a hand on my shoulder.
“Let me do that for you,” he says. “I know you’ve had a rough time around town lately, and I just want you to know there are still those of us who care.”
“Yeah,” I scoff. “You guys already have the sheet of glass cut to size, but you’ve spent the last hour measuring. First, you measure the window; then you measure the glass. You measure the window. You measure the glass. You measure the window. You measure the glass. You measure the—”
“I get it,” he says. “I’m sorry about that. Let me make it up to you.”
Without waiting for a response, Alan snatches the broom from my hands and starts pushing the thing like there’s a prize for finishing early.
“Ellie?” an all-too-familiar voice comes from behind me.
I turn around with a snicker. “No wonder they got to work so fast,” I tell the man I broke up with a little more than half a day ago. “What are you doing here, Nick?”
“Listen, I know what it must look like, but I promise it’s not what you think,” he starts.
“Well, I think it you came all the way here from New York after I told you things weren’t going to work out between us. But hey, I’ve been wrong before,” I respond.
“I know that’s how you must feel now, but …” he trails off. “Wait, you haven’t heard?” he asks.
“Heard what?” I respond.
Meanwhile, Alan’s dropped the broom as the floor’s now clear of glass—though there are now long, metallic grooves like spider veins on the old, laminated floor. I watch as he tries to lift the huge piece of glass all by himself and I cover my ears as it slips from his fingers after two steps and shatters on the sidewalk.
“I’m not paying for that!” I shout through what should have been that window. “You should go,” I tell him. “I don’t know what you expected to find when you came here, but I’m pretty sure once you leave, that glass is coming out of the salary I don’t make anymore.”
“What happened to the old one?” Nick asks.
Shaking my head, I answer, “I’m not really in the mood for chit-chat, Nick. If you came here to say something, I suggest you spit it out already. Otherwise, I have to go back to being the piece of gum under everyone’s shoe.”
“What does that mean?” he asks.
I groan. “It means that thanks to you, everyone in town thinks I’ve slighted them out of some magical existence,” I tell him. “I don’t know how they got it into their stupid heads that I ever had anything to do with how you spent your money or who you hired, but now that thought’s in there, it doesn’t look like it’s going to fall back out anytime soon.”
He purses his lips. “I can talk to some people,” he says. “Maybe it’s not too late to turn them around.”
“They’ll get over it,” she says. “Sooner or later, they’re going to find something else to be mad about, and they’ll find another stooge to blame for it. You should have called,” I tell him. “I could have saved you the trip.”
“Whether it’s out yet or not,” he tells me, “there’s something I should have said a long time ago—”
“I didn’t know you’d be here,” Naomi calls from outside the empty frame. Rather than use the door, she comes in through the window.
It looks like they got the glass cleaned up, at least.
“Are you back in town for a while, or is this more of a quickie trip?” Naomi asks Nick.
“We’re kind of in the middle of something right now,” I tell her.
Naomi gives a cavalier wave of the hand and turns her attention back to Nick. “You know, it was great seeing where you live, glimpsing your world, sleeping in your beds …”
“What ar
e you doing?” I ask. “Can you give us a minute?”
“This one’s no fun,” Naomi says to Nick. “You should have gone with the fun sister.”
What the hell is she doing? I’d say she was trying to cause some argument between Nick and me, but I told her this morning about the phone call. There’s no point.
Nick’s looking at me, his wild eyes begging me to save him, but I don’t know where to start.
I growl, “Naomi, wait in the office. I’ll talk to you after Nick leaves.”
“It looks like I’ve upset her,” Naomi mocks. “I don’t know about you, but I’m more interested in people who like to be teased. Do you like to be teased, Nick?”
I start to say something, but Nick speaks first.
“I don’t know if people didn’t clap loudly enough at your dance recitals when you were a kid or exactly why it is you think you need to be the center of attention all the time, no matter what’s going on around you or who’s asking you to stop,” he says. “However, your sister and I are having an important discussion—rather, we were until you barged in and refused to leave, which is how I assume you’ve managed to stay anywhere longer than five minutes. Does it look like either of us finds what you’re doing the least bit charming? It’s annoying and rude, and what’s more, it’s repulsive. I’m standing here talking to your sister and you’re making your stupid flirty remarks right in front of her, what the hell is that supposed to accomplish, but convincing us that you’re even more ridiculous a human being than we originally thought? Now do what your sister told you and go wait in the office until we’ve had a chance to talk. While you’re at it, try growing up: it may not be easy, but trust me, all the people in your life will thank you for it.”
My mouth’s agape. Naomi’s fighting back tears and I’m stunned where I stand.
“Naomi,” I breathe, “head to the office a second and let me deal with him.”
My sister narrows her eyes at me, but that only causes the collected tears to drop, so she goes. I wait until she’s in the office and the door is closed and then I turn toward Nick.
“I don’t know why you came, and I don’t care anymore,” I tell him. “She may have been taking things too far, but what you did was so far over the line I don’t even want to be in the same room with you. Just go,” I tell him. “Go home and find another naïve woman to prey on.”
He says, “I’m sorry if I went too far, but—”
“Unless you’re going to tell me you have an STI and I should get myself tested, there’s nothing you can say I’m the least bit interested in hearing,” I interrupt.
He says, “No, I don’t have an ST—”
“Great,” I interrupt again. “Now get the hell out of my store or I’ll have you arrested for trespassing.”
He stands there a moment, his mouth moving like he’s saying something, but he doesn’t speak a word.
“Look at my face,” I tell him. “Does it look like I’m playing with you?”
Nick scoffs and sputters, but in the end he leaves. He’s nice enough to use the door.
My hands are trembling and my mouth is dry, but I don’t waste any time getting to the office. I open the door and before Naomi has a chance to part her bright fuchsia, over-glossed lips, I’m asking, “Okay, so what the hell was that?”
Chapter Fourteen
Turncoat
Nick
The news never broke. I was waiting for my phone to explode with phone calls. I was even prepared for the unflattering yearbook photos of me as a teenager for the sake of twisting the blade, but it didn’t happen.
I got to the hotel after everything fell apart at Ellie’s shop, but there was only one hastily-penned message waiting for me at the desk.
“Marly called. Says it’s urgent.”
Twice in one day, dealing with Marly: That was too much. The next day passed, and even if she had the secret to existence, I wasn’t ready to hear her voice. It takes about a week of hearing every day how I’m already a ghost at my own company on top of the fact Ellie won’t return my calls before I pick up the phone and punch in Marly’s number.
“You’re an idiot.” That’s how she greets me.
“I was right on the verge of starting to miss you again,” I chuckle. “You called,” I say. “What do you want?”
“It’s not going to matter now,” she says. “You blew it by blowing me off.”
“Oh come on,” I say as I look at myself in the hotel bathroom mirror, searching for my self-respect. I haven’t spotted it yet, but I’ll keep looking. “You can’t stay mad at me,” I tell her. “Now is this actually important or did you just want to rehash everything for the millionth time?”
“It’s good to see you’re taking this seriously,” she says. “If you took your company seriously, you would have returned the call within five seconds of getting the message. I was even kind enough to call the hotel so I wouldn’t chance to interrupt whatever stupid gesture you were in the middle of with your stranger.”
“If this is another conversation where you go on and on about how I’m betraying the soul of the company, I think I can make do with the ones we’ve already had,” I tell her.
“Funny you should mention the soul of the company,” she says. “First off, there’s no way you can save your position. It’s not going to happen. Maybe if you’d called me back earlier, we could have done something, but that’s done and over and we need to start looking ahead.”
“Ahead to what?” I ask. “And what do you mean I can’t save my position?”
“It was never about the girl,” she says. “It was never even about taking the company to Mulholland. They’ve been looking for a way to get you out of there for years, Nick.”
“Is there a part of this conversation I didn’t have figured out the first time we sat down in the room with them?” I ask.
“You know not everyone’s been on board with your approach to your employees,” she says.
“This again?” I ask. “We’re a multibillion dollar company. Everyone in that room could retire off the salary they make in six months. The reason we’re so successful is people who come to work with us want to keep working with us.”
“Yeah,” she says, “I saw the employee training video. You came into money so fast you never learned to think the way they think and they hate you for it, Nick. They hate it for what they think it’s done to the company and they hate it because it hasn’t blown up in your face yet.”
“So it’s about profits?” I ask. “Of course it is, everything’s about profits. They think if we drop employee pay, that’s somehow going to—”
“They don’t want to drop employee pay, Nick,” she says. “Jesus, how did you ever get by without me standing next to you? They want to lay off everyone and move the company overseas. You have to start thinking like them or you’re never going to be able to beat them. If they think fifteen bucks an hour for the guy that sprays the plants is too much, why do you think minimum wage would sound better? Once you’re gone, so is every one of the employees that helped build Stingray.”
“You want to know what I find most surprising about that?” I ask.
Marly sighs. “Nick, if you’re actually going to do something about this, we really don’t have time to—”
“We have a guy who goes around the office spraying the plants, and yet I have never seen him,” I say. “I have a warneck dracaena, a weeping fig, and an umbrella tree in my office, but I have never once seen the guy that comes around to water the plants. I knew we had a guy because we asked about it, but the guy must be a ninja or something.”
“Are you done?” she asks.
“So they want to move the company overseas,” I say. “Isn’t there something in the board’s bylaws forbidding such an action?”
“Nick, it won’t matter—” Marly starts.
“I helped write the bylaws; you’d think I’d be more certain about that,” I muse. “They might be able to kick me out, but they can’t move the compan
y out of the country. You’re a lawyer. If I remember right, you were there when we finalized the language. Are you telling me there’s a loophole?”
“It’s less of a loophole and more of an enormous gap in the fence,” she says. “The bylaws state that amendment of said bylaws could only happen with both the unanimous consent of the board and the approval of the CEO. They’re not mad you want to move the company’s headquarters, Nick. They’re mad you won’t move it further.”
“If I’m not the CEO, the bylaws may as well not exist,” I say. It helps to say the words out loud. “What was the last employee count?” I ask.
“Headquarters, nationwide or worldwide?” she asks.
“Are they just laying off US workers?” I ask.
“It won’t matter,” she says. “If anyone in our stores or factories overseas keeps their job, they won’t keep getting the same pay and benefits as their American counterparts. Basically, everyone outside of upper management will make as little as possible. This is the way it works in every other company, Nick. Now, are you ready to get over your stupid pride and your blind idealism and start listening to me?”
I pace slowly into the main area of my hotel room. “I’m listening now,” I tell her. “What do we do?”
“First off, you need to hire me back and in my old position, otherwise I won’t have the authority to do a lot of the things I’ll need to do if this is going to work,” she says. “You can keep Malcolm on if you want. He’s a bit cuddly for my tastes, but he’s not totally incompetent.”
I sit on the edge of the bed. “You’re asking me to trust—”
“I’m not asking,” Marly interrupts. “I’m demanding that you trust me. If that doesn’t happen, there’s nothing I can do for you. I crossed the line spilling the beans about Ellie’s little shopping trip, but you know I’ve bled for this company just as much as you have.”
I think about it a moment. At this point, what do I really have to lose?
“All right,” I say, “you’re hired. What now?”
“Now, you come back to New York and our little cabal can have its first meeting,” she says. “In addition to you and me, I think we can get by with just Malcolm and about half a dozen lawyers. We don’t want too many people in on this.”