by Mj Fields
His says this as a slap in their faces, he has majority and would win. This isn’t going well, and Alfred isn’t stopping this shit show, so I do
I stand and announce, “Let’s take a break.”
“Let’s.” He glares around the table. “You can all breathe easy. Apparently, the old man gave you a pass for an entire quarter after I was appointed. But you can bet your asses I’ll be paying attention.”
Once in his private office, I shut the door behind the three of us and tell him the truth, “You need to calm down, man.”
“Calm down? Those assholes—every. Fucking. One of them—are entitled pieces of shit.”
Alfred interjects, “They’ve also been here a long time.”
“Doesn’t mean it was a good time,” he huffs.
He tells Bass, “They worked very well with your father.”
And Bass responds as I knew he would, “The old man was not my fucking father.”
“That old man gave you a company that he birthed and loved.” Alfred’s words are meant to prove something I know will be lost on Bass. It further enrages him.
When he walks to the conference door and opens it, I follow him.
Angela is the only one who remains. She looks up. “Do you have a moment?”
He snaps, “Ms. Petrov, I’m not sure I do.”
She stands and extends her hand. Is she out of her damn mind?
She pulls it back and looks down, her eyebrows knit, and then she looks up at him. “Mr. Josephs, the mailroom issue is something I’d like to discuss.”
“I’m pretty sure I just made it clear I’m really not up to listening to people’s opinions.”
She pushes, “Well, I’m sure you’d understand if—”
When he lights up a cigarette, she stops.
Then she scolds him, “There is no smoking in the building.”
“Apparently, I own the damn building, so I guess that means shit to me.”
She pushes, “It’s a law.”
He takes another drag. And here we go, I lean against the door jam.
She looks at her yellow legal pad. “The head of HR, Emilia, has been here for—”
He interrupts, “Did I not make myself clear?”
She’s not backing down. “Those people you say sleep on the job—”
“I didn’t say it; she did.” He blows out a huge cloud of smoke.
That’s not a good sign, he’s provoking her.
She straightens her stance. “I would ask you not to raise your voice at me, and—”
I clear my throat to get his attention, when he doesn’t reply, I say his mane, “Bass.”
I step back so he can follow, but when his footsteps stop, I turn back just as he slams the door in my face.
Fucker.
Through the door I can hear him very clearly. “Not raise my fucking voice, Angela? Are you insane?”
“No, I’m not, but—”
“Did you think I didn’t recognize you with different colored hair? Do you think because you spread your legs for me that you have a pass?”
Oh shit, he went there.
“That may have kept you here for the old man, but it sure as fuck won’t for me.”
“I know damn well you were fucking him. I’m no fool. I know damn well you thought you could spread that sweet, little pussy out in front of me and—”
“That’s enough!” she snaps.
“Did I touch a hot spot?”
Angela whisper yells at him, “How dare you be angry at me?”
“How dare I?” He laughs. “How dare I?”
When she doesn’t respond he continues, “Let me ask you something; if your little girl was on her knees and I was fucking that little mouth of hers, how would you—”
I hear a slap and look at Alfred, he shrugs and gives me a look saying he felt it was warranted…he’s not wrong.
“You know what? I was going to give you the courtesy of three months, but fuck that. Your replacement is already here, and I’m sure he won’t try to fuck me to keep his job.”
Fuck, I sigh, Alfred’s eyes narrow, he’s pissed.
She speaks, “Those people in the mailroom are adults with special needs. They do the job for far less than anyone else does, and it makes them feel good. If I were you, I would consider that.”
“I’m sure I would have figured it out myself.”
“No, Bass, you wouldn’t have.”
“You don’t know me!” He yells and a bit of desperation is in his voice.
“You’re right; I certainly don’t. Had I known you, I would have never—”
He laughs. “You knew exactly what you were doing. You’re quite the little actress, aren’t you?”
“What I am is an honest woman who had a physical relationship with a man who treated me with respect.”
“Respect? You think I respect you?”
“I wasn’t talking about you, Bass. I was talking about Jean.”
Enraged, he yells, “Get the hell out of here!”
He’s snapped and I can’t let him continue. “Open the fucking door, Bass.”
Then Angela snaps, “I don’t know what sick game you’re playing, but I really hope it works out for you. And maybe, just maybe, you’ll grow up along the way. Then maybe you can become the man you pretended to be.”
Using my shoulder, I ram the locked door and luckily it opens with little damage. Angela storms out and Alfred hurries past me and follows her out the door.
“Bass, what the fuck? You said you could handle it.”
“How well do I handle liars?”
He’s fucking hurting.
“You don’t.” I run my hand over my freshly cut and styled hair. “But you said—”
“I didn’t think she’d act like she didn’t do a fucking thing wrong. I expected…” He stops and shakes his head.
“You expected what, man?” I ask.
“I have no fucking clue.” He sighs, “More. I expected more.”
I hit him with some reality. “How will she take care of her family?”
“Her fucking ex is still employed here, isn’t he?” He turns his back to me.
“Keep your friends close and your enemies closer, huh?”
Twenty minutes later, Alfred walks back into the office and tosses a file on the desk then pulls an ashtray out of his coat pocket and sets it beside it.
“You need to read this. Then you need to leave that woman alone.”
“Excuse me?”
“I’m not afraid of being fired by you, Bass. I work for your father’s estate. I don’t owe you a penny, nor a moment beyond what has previously been decided by your father. But I will give you some advice free of charge. You’ve pissed a lot of people off today. Some of them, I couldn’t give a damn less about. That woman, she isn’t one to piss off.”
“Because she’s fucking delusional? Crazy?”
“No, Bass, because she could be your greatest asset, like she was your father’s, or she could ruin you. But regardless of what you decide, you owe her a fucking apology.”
Bass responds as I expected, “I don’t owe her shit.”
Alfred nods. “All right then. I’ll leave you to it.”
Once he leaves, Bass looks at me. “You’re my assistant.” He points to the folder. “Assist.”
“Nice tone.” I take my feet off the desk then lean forward for the folder and open a file labeled, Natasha Petrov.
“The fuck?” I say as I look at the first picture in the pile.
There are pictures of a baby with a cleft lip. Each picture I flip through tells the story of the hell this kid went through, and I sense Angela isn’t the kind of a mother I was born to, so she too went through some pain.
Each picture shows the baby a bit older, after what I assume are surgeries to fix the birth defect. I’m unsure of what age she is in the last, but she’s in a school uniform and she’s smiling. All I see is a small scar.
Fuck, she looks familiar.
�
�The old man and her? Or her and me?” Bass asks.
“You said something about her kid.”
“So what?” He huffs. “She fucked Jean. Then his kid.”
I know he’s hurting, but memories, long ago memories are stirred, and I need a fucking break. I stand and walk to the door. “Alfred’s right; you owe her an apology.”
“For fucking what?” he snaps.
“The comment about fucking her kid’s mouth.”
14
Oliver
I need a break from this shit already, I think, looking for a place to hide.
But I can’t fucking hide, I need to help Bass straighten his shit. As annoyed as I am by how he handled things just moments ago, I get it. He’s more in touch with his emotions than I am or ever will be.
Thankfully, Alfred gave us a quick tour of the place this morning and I know Angela’s office is one door away from the conference room.
When I open it, there isn’t anyone inside. Her assistant’s desk is unoccupied, and I walk past it to her door.
I open it and face her desk, behind it a wall of bookcases, on the middle shelves are pictures of Angela and her daughter.
“Damn it, Bass,” I mumble as I walk behind her desk in hopes of finding her phone number, an address, something so that he can contact her to apologize.
It’s more than obvious Bass has a love for older women, none I’ve ever liked. Though, this one, is unlike all the others. She has a kid, she has a job. They didn’t even exchange numbers or real names. And from what I understand, she left after a call from Alfred, she didn’t just ditch him like he thinks.
I sit at her desk and nudge the track pad for her computer and a picture pops up.
“Oh hell no.” My pulse races when I see a blonde, one that looks a fuck of a lot like Grace. She must have been the same girl I almost ran over on my bike a year ago. The one I–
“She’s been gone all of ten minutes and you’re already in her seat?”
I look up to see the woman I know from employee files is Autumn, Angela’s secretary.
“Just looking around,” I say as I stand.
“For what?” she hisses.
I’m in no mood for this shit, not when the girl whose haunted my black and white dreams for a year now is tangible to me, not when Bass is fucking shit up left and right.
“You can stow the bullshit, Autumn. I didn’t fire your boss and I certainly don’t need to tiptoe around your feelings.”
“You’re an asshole too.” She crosses her arms over her chest.
“And you may need to stow the girl power shit and be happy he hasn’t fired you, too.” Before she can say shit, I tell her, “As your new boss, I’m gonna ask you to get me Angela’s number and address.”
“If you think for one second–”
“Now, Autumn.”
She storms off and I hear her sputtering as she slams drawers. I want to tell her to grow the fuck up, but I’m working on my people skills.
When I walk out, she’s sitting at her desk and totally ignores me.
“Did you get me the information I requested?”
She taps her pen on a sticky note with barely legible writing on it.
I bite back my annoyance and force a smile. “Thank you, Autumn.”
As I walk out of the office, I hear her sputter, “Go fuck yourself.”
I stop and start to turn around, but then remind myself what a leader does, he leads.
I knock once on Bass’s office door before walking in.
Before I have a chance to say a word, he looks up.
“Could you set up a meeting with the employees we discussed letting go?” I don’t say shit, I just look at him. “Leave out the head of HR and mailroom employees.”
I’m relieved he must have taken Angela’s advice about not firing them. Hell, maybe he talked to her again. “You contact her?”
He shakes my head. “No number.”
“I’ll make sure to get it for you… boss.” I reach in my pocket and hand him the sticky note.
He immediately sends a text.
I stand watching him.
I hear a message tone and watch him visibly tense as he reads it.
Fuck.
He shakes his head and then sends her a text.
Another immediate response.
He looks more relaxed as he reads it and he replies.
Another return message and his face tightens and turns red.
He types back and I’m ten steps from snatching his damn phone to make him stop when he looks up and gasps, “She fucking blocked me.”
And here we go with another Bass tirade.
Everything in the office pisses him off, so I try to change shit up. “Let’s make this place yours.”
“I don’t even fucking want it,” he says, tapping on his phone.
“Bass.” He looks up at me, fucking lost, he’s fucking lost. “We’re gonna be here for a hot minute. Get rid of his shit and let’s make it more you.”
He tosses his phone on the desk. “Fine.”
For the next two days I learn a couple things– Bass sleeps almost as little as I do, and we’re both assholes when we’re tired.
He’s constantly yelling at contractors, and short-tempered with everyone else. I also learn that a phone is much like a watched pot, there’s no more sense waiting for water to boil than it does a damn good staring at a screen.
Maisie and I speak daily, and she hates it at the rehab center, but after her minor stroke, she’s exactly where she needs to be to regain whatever strength she can. She knows it and makes me promise not to tell Bass. She doesn’t want him worrying about her. I’d be upset at him, but honestly, I think he may need to find focus elsewhere, or there may be a beat down in the alley outside the building by his employees.
I’ve also learned Autumn is a pain in the ass. She comes to Bass with questions she knows he doesn’t have answers to, and he refuses to give until he gets his feet under him. I know, without him saying so, he’s aware he fucked up in the way he dealt with the Angela situation, personally and professionally.
The new couture line they were working on needed her approval because “she just has an eye for beauty and class.” New models for the Paris show needed her stamp of approval because “she knew what ‘real’ people, the consumers, want” that would make them feel beautiful.
Accountants needed her signature, fabric vendors wanted to speak to her, marketing wanted her to tell them which advertisers to line up. One time we wandered into the break room and heard women talking about her daughter… Natasha, wondering how she was doing in London. Autumn does the best she can to answer their questions or delay them, but never says she no longer works here.
She also doesn’t hide her irritation at Bass for replacing her boss while training her replacement, me. It’s always, “Angela this, and Angela that.” And when she doesn’t know something he needs an answer for, she gets all pissy and gives me a nasty look, replying, “Angela handled that.”
What’s interesting is he’s yet to fire her, and I know why. Alfred was correct when he said Angela could be his best ally. I’m not surprised, but I’m relieved when he told Alfred to bring Angela back as a consultant, offer her a year’s salary for the same three months the board was given if she agrees to help with the winter line release.
When Alfred came back saying she needed a few days, Bass went berserk.
I had to step in.
“You gonna sit in here and be a tyrant all day while they paint and refurnish this place?”
He doesn’t say shit.
“Bass, get out of here. Get some sleep. Go check on Maisie.”
“Did the rehabilitation center call?”
I promised I wouldn’t say shit so I don’t. “No, but it’s not like you to not check in on her.”
“Had other things on my damn mind.”
“Really? Hadn’t noticed.”
He turns his back to me.
“She comes in, I’l
l let you know.”
He shakes his head.
“Get out of here, Bass. Seriously, you’re pissing me off.”
He turns and scowls at me. I feel like his fucking parent.
“I agreed to this for you. Do you think I like wearing this shit?” I point at the gray suit and tie.
He shrugs. “What else are you gonna do?”
“I was kind of feeling my restaurant management gig.” Which is bullshit, but right now, I miss the quiet.
He turns around and accuses, “You hated that place.”
All the patrons were old money fuckers. “The people, yeah. Douchebags.”
“But it’s better than getting shot at,” he reminds me.
“Fucking boring.”
“Boring? It’s its own kind of war zone.”
“Only when the man in charge is making everyone feel uncomfortable.”
“Yeah.” he nods. “What a dick, huh?”
“Dick? I wouldn’t say so. I’d say you’re being a bitch.”
“Fuck you.” He flips me off trying not to smile.
“Go, Bass, seriously. But make damn sure you make it to that fucking black tie bullshit Saturday night.”
“You need a date?” he jokes… finally, the Bass I know has shown up.
“I got you, boo. And believe me; you’re almost all I can handle.” I roll my eyes. “Almost.”
Two days was all he needed to get Maisie out of the rehab center, have her agree to twenty-four-hour nursing care at her home and convince her to come to the Saturday evening event. He also managed to get Angela Petrov to attend. That night he learned she’d be going to Paris.
That week at de la Porte was a hell of a lot less hostile work environment than it had been previously and even Autumn managed to smile once in a while.
It had been four days since Angela left to deal with Jean’s personal belongings, and Bass went from good to me telling him, “You need to get the hell out of here.”
“But Maisie,” he said and shook his head no.
“I’m going back Thursday evening, get your ass in one of those private jets and take a weekend.”
He did as I suggested.