“So don’t worry about me,” Kenny told her. “I don’t need SCA—or any hedge fund; I’m okay where I am. And then maybe we can, I don’t know, take a trip, have a baby . . .”
For some reason, this made Janine cry. “Oh, Kenny. I’m so sorry.”
Seeing her tears made Kenny well up too. He didn’t cry, but the threat existed. “What’s wrong? You can tell me.” He braced himself for her confession, but all she said was, “I just need time.” Leaning over, Kenny kissed her. “Take however long you need,” he said, pleased they had a plan. Though it was chilly, they had sex outside, right on the deck chairs, which wasn’t completely satisfying but felt like a good start.
STANDING OUTSIDE LUCY’S office, Kenny breathed deeply to steady his nerves. Now that he and Janine had made up, he was ready to course-correct everything else. While he’d rather talk to Rosa, these days she was never without an entourage, so it was impossible to get her alone. He had with him a five-point plan for the rest of his life:
MILESTONE ONE: Fix job situation (including redeeming self in Rutherford’s eyes)
MILESTONE TWO: Continue to work on marriage
MILESTONE THREE: Have child or two (with Janine)
MILESTONE FOUR: Look after Sarge and Mom, as needed
MILESTONE FIVE: Retire
Lucy was on a call, but beckoned him in. “I’m almost done. No, Mom, I’m talking to someone else”—she covered the phone—“Have a seat.”
Kenny looked around. On Lucy’s wall, there was a poster of a kitten clinging to a pull-up bar under the words HANG IN THERE, BABY. Pointing to it, he smiled.
Lucy gave him a thumbs-up. “Just get Willa What to Expect and sign the card from me—and no, I don’t want a shearling vest. . . . Thanks, but I said no. . . . Love you too, but I’m hanging up.” Lucy looked at him. “Sorry. My sister is pregnant, and my mother is wandering around Costco.”
“Congratulations!” Kenny offered.
“Thanks! Congrats to me, the spinster aunt.” She rolled her eyes. “So what’s up?”
“I’ve thought about your proposition, and I accept. I’m ready to take on operations.”
“Really?” Lucy leaned back. “Well, that’s a surprise.”
How should he interpret this? A good surprise, he hoped? “I’m totally committed. I can also mentor Katie, who I recently found out has a few knowledge gaps.”
“You do realize Katie’s been here four months?” Lucy stopped. “Kenny, I’m thrilled!” She stopped again. “Did that sound sincere? As a manager, I should express enthusiasm even when I’m on the fence. And to be frank, Kenny, I’m on the fence about you. In fact, you’re being put on a performance improvement plan, also known as a PIP.”
Struck by her bluntness, he faltered. “Why? I mean, I know why, but I’m determined to turn things around. I’m taking my new assignment very seriously. I’ll work my ass off, Lucy.”
“I want to believe that, but here’s the deal: starting next week, Rosa will be leading a strategy team focused on growth—mergers, acquisitions, that kind of thing. She’ll continue to keep an eye on HR as far as big picture, but I’ll be overseeing our day-to-day business.”
Though he’d known this was coming, hearing it worried him. “Great! Congratulations!”
“Now who sounds insincere?” She smiled. “Regardless, I am listening to you. You say you’re committed, and that you’re taking this assignment seriously, but your track record is lousy. Kenny, you’ve been a disappointment to Rosa. It’s not your work product as much as your attitude; you never stop telling us, in one way or another, you’re too good for us. Did you hear that? You have a bad attitude. You’re a disappointment. Having worked for several women over the years, I’ve noticed that as a gender, we’re very observant and fully attuned to our colleagues’ feelings, but we are abysmal at confrontation. Truth is, I rarely have this issue working for men. There are other issues, of course, but not that one.” She paused. “So.”
“So.” Kenny’s heart beat faster. “What’s next?”
“Great question! Well, the big news is that I’ll be your boss! Fun, right? I envision lots of changes. We need rigor, Kenny, rigor and discipline. So as deputy chief, I plan to institute weekly one-on-ones, clearly defined roles, aggressive but measurable targets, and so on. I also want to take on longer-term projects, like infrastructure, employee self-service—”
“ESS was my idea—”
“Yes, Kenny, I know. You have excellent ideas. You could also be a highly competent manager. However, in the spirit of new beginnings, I have to say that you’re arrogant, combative, and display no generosity of spirit. Too direct? Possibly, but I’m in a bind. I have more work than I do time, and I need a rock-solid steady Eddie to oversee comp and operations so I can focus on larger issues. I want you to dig deep and ask yourself if this is truly where you want to be. Can you see yourself at Ellery five, ten years down the line? This isn’t a joke, Kenny; I want you to ask yourself why you’re the right fit. Tell me, please: What is the Kenny Verville value proposition?”
Kenny understood: Buck up or else. “You’re right, Lucy. I’ve been arrogant and ungenerous. I have not been a team player. My behavior is unacceptable. I’m sorry. When I look in the mirror, I’m not happy with the person I see.” Holding her gaze, he sent telepathic messages, Please, Lucy, don’t give up on me. Please, please. “But my situation has changed. I’ve changed. I want to stay and take on operations. I need this job. I’m committed.” Please. He cleared his throat. “I promise.”
She studied him then made a V sign. “Scout’s honor?”
Kenny mirrored her V with his own. “Cross my heart, hope to die.”
“Good.” She sat up straight. “The first thing you should do is schedule time with Leo; he’s our operations expert. At the moment, we have two pressing issues: the Atlanta lease, which is up for renewal, and Rutherford’s town hall in July. Leo will tell you about the lease, but as far as the town hall, you’ll have to find the space, negotiate a deal, confirm equipment, oversee setup, test acoustics, order snacks. Last year, we had people fill out a questionnaire—which you also have to coordinate—and they complained they couldn’t see the presenters, so this year, Rutherford wants a riser or stage. You’ll have to figure that out . . .”
As Lucy listed everything he had to do, Kenny took feverish notes. He was better at lofty concepts than granular details, but it didn’t matter. He had to follow her instructions down to the letter—or else. Don’t fuck up, he scribbled. Do. Not. Fuck. This. Up.
“The trick is to get organized,” Lucy said in summation. “Anything else?”
“I have a question, but it’s off-topic.”
She rolled her hands, telling him to keep going. It was a gesture he’d seen Rutherford use many times, which suggested she was closer to their CEO than she let on.
“So, remember a few months ago, when I mentioned a hypothetical new job? I was curious why you called it ‘ironic.’”
Lucy didn’t miss a beat. “Kenny, you were about to get fired.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m your manager. Of course I’m sure. We were waiting for you to finish the layoffs, and then . . .” She turned up her palms. “So it was ironic you found another job right when you needed one. But Rosa believes in second chances, so despite your past infractions, she thinks you’re worth saving. You know the business, you know Ellery—now you’ll learn all about operations. Plus, replacing Peter is very expensive, but with you, we get two managers for the price of one.”
Kenny flinched.
Seeing this, Lucy warmed. “Sorry, that was harsh. Sometimes I speak without thinking first. I definitely have to work on that. Rosa has the manager thing down, but there’s a fine line between oversight and power. Speaking of power players, how’s your wife?”
“She’s okay.” Lucy could be pretty funny sometimes, Kenny thought, recalling the booze cruise they’d gone on two years earlier. They’d gotten trashed and laughed a lot,
mostly about the stupid shit people did at work, like leaving copies of their biometric screening results in the printer. Lucy also opened up a little. When he mentioned Sarge, she said he was lucky his father was still alive; her own left when she was six. “Growing up, I was jealous of girls whose fathers taught them how to ride a bike; that felt like the ultimate dad experience, and I’d missed out. It’s probably why I’m such a bitter shrew—because I had to learn everything on my own.”
“Actually,” Kenny added, honestly, in the spirit of new beginnings, “the last few months have been rough. Janine and I haven’t been getting along. She’s busy with her new job, and I’m . . . well, you know how I am.”
Lucy sighed. “Relationships are difficult.”
She had a nice face, Kenny decided. Smart idea to get rid of those clunky glasses. “We’ve been together since college. That should count for something, right?”
“You’d think.” Lucy glanced out her window. Sunlight cast shadows across her face, made her blue eyes gleam like jewels. “Let’s hope your problems don’t impact your performance. But truthfully, Kenny? I’m, like, the last person you should be asking about love.”
KENNY’S MOTHER CALLED a few nights later. “How are you?” she asked.
He glanced at his watch. Jeanie would be home any minute. “Great, Ma. Everything’s great.” Circling the table, he set down plates. Dog scampered between his legs. Kenny was trying to re-create last Wednesday night, substituting home-cooked chicken for takeout sushi and adding candles. “In fact”—he pulled back the blinds to search the street—“I’m making a romantic dinner for us.” A spray of headlights flashed in his eyes. “She’s home!” he called to Dog, who started to bark. But instead of turning into the driveway, the car sped off. Kenny and Dog looked at each other, dejected.
“We’d love to see you.” His mother’s voice was pressing; she mentioned Sarge, who was doing better, but still a bit shaky. “He misses you; we both do.”
Kenny pictured his father, younger, stronger, rocketing into the sky. A man with the grace of a superhero, faster than a speeding bullet, mighty enough to defy gravity. “I miss you guys too, Ma. I’ll come this weekend, I promise.”
It was almost seven. The chicken was cold and starting to congeal, so he stuck it in the microwave. The cooker hummed, and as the bird rotated, Kenny’s stomach growled. As hungry as he was, though, he wanted to wait for Janine; he wanted to talk as they ate. It was time to come clean, so he sent her a text.
I know about Les Hough but I forgive you. Hope you get home soon so we can talk. Xo
An hour later, the chicken smell lingered as Kenny continued to wait. He had so much to say. First, he no longer cared about Les Hough; he was tired of hauling that weight. Second, the other night, when he’d told her about the operations assignment, he hadn’t clarified that it was a last-chance opportunity. Third, he was worried about his parents, especially Sarge. Finally, they belonged together; they were a family: Kenny, Jeannie, Dog. But in an unexpected twist, Janine never came home, so Kenny didn’t get the chance to say any of this, or that he loved her, which to him, was most important of all.
LATER THAT NIGHT, his phone dinged with a text from Janine.
I need time; I’ll be with my folks
Was this it? Were they done? In the past, there were arguments, recriminations, tearful ultimatums. None of it had mattered, though, not to Kenny, who believed he and Janine were forever. But now it seemed they were over, if only because the ending had come without fanfare. No yelling, no slammed doors; just one simple text, and then silence. The next morning, when he called Janine and got no reply, Kenny had visions of racing to UBS and clocking Les Hough. Instead, he went to the office. When he got home, his wife’s clothes were gone, and so was Dog, which raised a question he hadn’t considered: Could seven years of marriage, one mammoth house, one spoiled pooch, and countless his-and-hers gifts all be negated with twenty-seven characters?
The next three weeks were hard, but Kenny had been agonizing over Les Hough for so long, it was almost a relief to let go. Janine had left, and for once, he didn’t chase her. At first, when he opened her closet and saw all the empty hangers, he had to lie down, but as time passed, he began to feel lighter, as if one hundred and forty pounds of frustration and regret had been hoisted off his shoulders. Though Janine sent brief replies to his texts, she didn’t return his calls, so Kenny stopped checking his phone. He went out with Fez, and when he spilled the whole story, Fez listened and offered sympathy. While the experience felt new and weird, it didn’t feel bad, which, in a way, Kenny could say about everything. He felt weird living alone, weird not having a dog, weird not having someone say “Good job!” when he stained the back deck, weird deciding what to eat for dinner. Not a bad weird, just a weird that required getting used to. Meanwhile, the one constant, the only constant, was Ellery, so that’s what Kenny did every day: he went to work.
SUDDENLY IT WAS June, and Kenny was cranking out projects like a well-oiled machine. Between the Atlanta lease, Rutherford’s town hall, the cracked ceiling in Leo’s office, the scorched floor by the copier, and the mailroom guys (allegedly) trafficking Ecstasy, he was barely treading water. And these were only his top five tasks—the operations checklist had thirty more. Plus, he had to research executive pay plans, and according to Lucy, Rutherford wanted to discuss ESS, which he should consider a positive sign. In the halls, the big man offered him a jocular “Hey-o,” but Kenny understood there would be no more private chats. Not that he had time. Now that he was overseeing operations, he got in early, skipped the gym, and ate lunch over his keyboard. But the work kept coming in, and Lucy was on his back to get it done. No one had ever ridden him this hard, not even Rosa.
Thank God for Katie.
“I’m here,” she said. It was 7:00 a.m. on Wednesday, the third week in June, and they were alone. (Well, Leo was there too, bitching about all the goddamn early birds.)
“Katie!” Kenny gestured to a stack of folders. “Make this all go away, please.” He gave her a toothy smile, like a cartoon dog, not caring how dopey he looked. He and Katie had been working side by side for more than a month, and every day, in every way, she saved his ass. Her hidden genius was organization. In addition to color-coding the operations checklist, she created a binder for each project, developed timelines and budgets, and then color-coded those. She could locate any document, hard copy or digital. Finally—and this had less to do with saving his ass than restoring his faith—she was nice to him. Yesterday, he showed up bleary-eyed and exhausted. “Rough night,” he told her. “I didn’t fall asleep until two.” Whereas Janine would’ve trumped him with her own worse experience—her night was excruciating, she didn’t sleep at all—Katie furrowed her brow. “Sorry to hear that. What’s on your mind?”
“What can I do for you?” she asked now, pen poised over a legal pad.
He showed her the Atlanta office lease. “We have to renegotiate this, but the terms are too high. I’ll probably have to fly down.” He paused. “Hey, you ever been to the South?”
Katie’s eyes widened. “Seriously? I’d love to go!”
“Oh, wait, Katie . . .” Kenny hadn’t meant to imply he could bring her along. But when a lock of hair fell across her cheek, he had the sudden, impulsive desire to brush it away. “I don’t see why not,” he said, at the same time thinking, Are you out of your mind?
“Really? No way!”
Her enthusiasm reminded him she was just a kid. He was feeling fraternal, he decided, brotherly, the way he’d feel toward any girl twelve years younger. But when she leaned in for a hug, he panicked, afraid she might kiss him.
Two hours later, they were in the conference room, waiting for the managers’ meeting to start. Usually they sat together, but today Kenny had opted for the seat next to Leo. Katie sent him a text.
Why r u so far away?
Kenny gathered up his computer, iPhone, BlackBerry, files, legal pad, pens, pencils, water, coffee, and keycard, an
d moved to the seat on her left.
Hello!
Kenny beamed. He turned to see Rosa walk in, with Lucy and Courtney, Rob’s former assistant. Rosa and Lucy were behind closed doors all the time now, so Kenny rarely saw either of them. Today Rosa wore a brown knit suit, her hair was neatly coiffed, and she seemed more alert than she had in a long time. She sat down at the head of the table. Lucy was on her left, dressed in a white blouse with French cuffs and a black skirt. As they waited for everyone to assemble, Lucy scanned the room with a critical eye. “Before we start,” she said, “I asked Rosa to update us on her new committee. Also, going forward Courtney will be attending these meetings, which are no longer limited to senior staff. So Courtney”—Lucy waved like a game show host—“welcome.”
Courtney gave Lucy a mock salute, drawing chuckles all around.
“I’ll be coming, too!” Everyone turned to Juanita, a fine-boned woman with a shock of white hair who’d been processing payroll nearly as long as Kenny had been alive. “I’m on the team!”
“That’s right.” Lucy nodded. “We’re including all of HR. . . . So, Rosa, why don’t you go first? Then we’ll have manager updates, review our financials, and close with this week’s case study.”
As she spoke, Kenny studied Courtney. Tall and lanky, with ropy brown hair that swished like a horse’s tail, she was the same age as Katie, but not nearly as pretty. Catching his eye, Katie waved, and Kenny pictured her lying naked beside him. While this was not a brotherly thought, the more he tried not to see her, the more open and yielding she looked. Sweating, he slid a binder on his lap—ATLANTA LEASE RENEGOTIATION—while conjuring up sad images to get rid of his boner: earthquake footage from Haiti, Iraqi children with no arms, puppies in captivity, the way his mom lost her jaw when she took out her teeth.
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