Rich and Bossy (Rich Boys)

4. Hazel

CHAPTER 4

Hazel

This is going to be one hell of an expensive print job.

It’ll be worth it. I have to believe that.

I don’t have a printer at home, though, and I couldn’t do this at work. They watch every page that runs through the copy machine, since it’s all supposed to be paperless.

A passing employee at the office store glances my way, eyes widening when he sees how many copies I’m printing of the flier I made up. It’s a copy store. Shouldn’t he be happy about it?

Even now, standing beside the machine watching page after page slide out from between the rollers, I can hardly believe this is real. I’m really doing this.

I have to do it now. I already talked to people. They’re broken down and fed up, so to see a little hope in their eyes was worth it, as far as I’m concerned. I’ll be the sacrificial lamb. I can be fine without this job. They can’t.

Was it the smartest way I could have done things? Probably not. Talking about unions while on company property was a huge risk. It was either that or find some way to get a list of employees and chase them down on social media. It’s not like I can email our distribution on Outlook and be like, “Hey, you guys tired of being treated like garbage? Let’s form a union!”

Talking to anyone about this stuff is risky, but I was as discreet as I could be. Definitely looked around to make sure management was nowhere in sight. I probably talked to twenty different people about it, just to see. Every single one was like, yeah, I’d like to hear more, and I’d be interested, as long as I don’t get in trouble.

That’s how it is. People walking around in fear. It’s ridiculous.

I’ll take the lead and take the blame. I’ve done the research to make sure we follow all the rules, and everything is legally protected. So Rapid can just get bent out of shape if they have a problem with it. The law is on our side, and if they think about targeting anyone for participating, I found a legal group that does pro bono work for this kind of stuff. Plus, I have professors I can consult with about it too.

Right now, I need to educate people on just how bad the warehouse is at the moment. Some people think that’s normal, that it’s just how the job goes. You go along with it if you want to get paid. I have to remind them that Rapid wouldn’t exist if weren’t for us, the people on the ground, doing the work, making sure people get their packages on time. The drivers, going nonstop, all hours of the day to get things where they need to be.

Paxton Briggs and his rich friends sit up in their tower downtown, risking nothing, just finding new ways to squeeze more and more blood from a turnip.

I was actually excited and liked my job when I first started there, when I was sixteen. What a difference five years can make. I used to look at the wave and think of us as this giant force, providing an awesome service to people.

Now, when I look at it, all I can think about is drowning. All of us are being pulled under. I’d say it’s just a matter of time before someone gets seriously hurt, but people have already been seriously hurt. Someone is going to die if some changes aren’t made.

They’re going to find out that waves can come back at them, and we’re bigger than anything they can send at us, if we stick together.

I know this. I just need to convince everyone else. It’s easy for me. I’m not risking much by doing this. Other people will have to risk everything. I know that. I don’t expect them all to go along, and some of them will probably be mad at me. But if I can get this win, I know they’ll thank me later. I know they will.

At the same time, fear is ripping through my insides. Is this going to be like that story where the frog gets slowly boiled to death? The whole thing about how you can put a frog in a pot of water and raise the temperature a degree at a time, and the poor thing won’t even know it’s being cooked.

They could easily make a few changes, and everyone would be fine, content. But working conditions have become impossible. The labor laws are all going to crap because people like Rapid keep buying everyone off to get their way. I’m pretty sure company lobbyists actually write their own laws now.

Sorry, but I’m not going to stand around and watch mothers be unable to pump, and people peeing in cans. I’m not going to watch people wear trackers and get write ups if they don’t move fast enough to meet the quotas that keep getting more and more impossible.

That’s just the stuff I know about.

“What’s this? A school assignment?”

My entire body freezes.

Wait. I know that voice.

I’ve only heard it once, but I know it.

Once again, pure fear rushes through my veins. My head snaps up at the sound of his voice, and my heart tightens at the sight of his face. There he is, towering above me, wearing the same amused expression he wore in the elevator.

How? What?

A million questions go through my mind all at once.

I can’t see his eyes because he has on aviators in the middle of a store like an idiot, but the firm set of his jaw says it all. He might be smiling, but he’s not amused. Not by a long shot.

All the fear turns to rage, and I have to use every ounce of willpower to tamp it down.

Be the bigger person.

“Are you kidding me right now?” My head snaps around wildly, eyes darting back and forth.

“Just needed to make some copies. You almost done?” He smirks and looks down at the machine.

“Go away please.”

He smiles. “You know, I don’t think I will.”

Words can’t express how much I hate his attitude right now. He’s doing this because he can. What a jerk. Is he following me?

“Please go away. I want to be alone.”

“You don’t own this store or the copy machine.”

“Neither do you.” I glare back at him.

He snickers. “I could. If I wanted. Dying business model though. Digital age and all that.”

I decide being angry is exactly how he wants me. He wants me flustered, so I’m going to do the opposite of what he wants. “Is that supposed to be some kind of disguise? Like people know you?”

“Yeah, I thought it was pretty good. Does it suck?”

“It looks like something out of a Marvel movie, like Captain America and Falcon in Civil War .” I still maintain those were the most horrific hat and sunglass disguise combos in cinema history. “You look ridiculous. At least get something with a team on it.”

“Sound advice. I’ll go with a Twins hat next time.”

I nod, still unable to believe this conversation is happening. “It would work better, if you were actually in danger of people knowing who you are.”

“Well, I’m the CEO of one of the largest companies in the world, so…”

“Nobody cares.”

“You care.”

“Why are you here?” I snap back at him. “Following me? Seeing what I’m up to?”

“Yeah.”

“Which question were you answering?”

“Both.” He smirks again.

Why does that smirk look so damn good on him?

“So, you’re stalking me.”

“You said following. In your question. I’m not stalking. That has a negative connotation.”

“I’m aware of the damn…” I stop myself mid-sentence and take a breath.

He snickers right at me. “You can say the word damn . It’s okay. You’re twenty-one, Hazel.” He slowly and methodically takes off his glasses and pockets them. Then he smirks right at me once more, and his eyes slowly drift down to the copies, then back up to me. “You have no idea what you’re doing, do you?” He might as well be talking about putting together a piece of IKEA furniture, he sounds so dismissive and patronizing.

“I’m doing just fine.” Meanwhile, my knees are trembling. For one, his voice changed. I don’t know how to describe it, but it went into this hotter, deeper tone, but also full of warning. How did he know to follow me in the first place? Did someone rat me out? I was careful and I meticulously selected the people I know are most fed up with Rapid. The people who would be most likely to keep their mouths shut.

Do they have the breakroom under surveillance? With audio too?

Jesus. Then they have someone who sits there listening? No, I guarantee you it’s some kind of algorithm that analyzes it and spits out anything troublesome. They’d never pay someone to monitor that.

“Clearly.” He leans in a little closer to me.

I should not like it. I should not like how nervous he’s making me, and I certainly shouldn’t like that evil little glint in his eyes. Like he’s enjoying this little game, enjoying putting me back on my heels.

“How exactly do you know what I’m doing? Do you record us at work? Our conversations?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

He does look slightly confused when he says it, like he’s not sure.

“Hmm.” I tip my head to the side, looking him up and down with a smile I can’t hide. “Maybe I’ll add that to my recruiting material. Recording employees. Please tell me you weren’t dumb enough to do it in the bathrooms too?”

“Why would I do that? Nobody has time to use them, remember?”

This jerk! I squeeze my fists so tight my nails dig into my palms, then I force myself to take another deep breath. Don’t let him win. Don’t let him win.

“That’s the first true thing you’ve said all day. So, did you look into anything I said? Because it’s very clear what your priorities are here, and it’s a little disturbing.”

“Well, it’s been all of about three days, Hazel. But I get the impatience of youth, when you’ve grown up in a culture of being handed everything you want the second you throw a fit about it.”

How does he get under my skin this bad? How?

I want to kick him right in the balls and see who throws a fit. Only one person here has been handed everything they want.

Before I can say anything back, he says, “And I can neither confirm nor deny the presence of security devices and how they’re monitored, though I’m guessing they exist around the warehouse. Apologies, they’re meant for your safety. But we can have them removed if Hazel doesn’t like them.”

I stand there, shaking my head right at him. “The breakroom is a pretty high-traffic area, so I could see the need for video and audio feeds. Maybe you could stick a few out on the floor where the accidents actually happen. Or maybe the walls just have ears in the breakroom.”

“Seems like a more plausible explanation.” He shrugs. “What are you going to do?”

I narrow my eyes right at him, then smile, the biggest smile that’s come across my face in a while. “You’re afraid of me.”

That draws a laugh out of him. A big, fake laugh.

“You’re overselling it, Briggs. You don’t come out here with the commoners unless you’re afraid of something.”

He holds up a hand while he finishes his fake laugh, while choking out, “Sorry, sorry. I can’t seem to stop.”

“It’s good to know you’re concerned.”

His smile vanishes a little. “It’s funny you think I’m concerned about that .” He nods to the fliers. “Instead of…” He stares right at me. “Well, draw your own conclusions.”

“Oh, I have. And I find this company extremely troubling and creepy. The fact you followed me here.” I take a step toward him.

He actually looks a little worried now.

“Recorded our conversations. Monitored our discussions. Instead of fixing the problems, you just care about making sure everybody stays quiet while it takes months to resolve, if you’re even trying to resolve anything. Nobody tells us anything. Yeah, I have a sense of urgency. A mother can’t spend time with her sick child. People are cutting off fingers and told not to go to the doctor. Someone could die in that death trap of a warehouse. Those are my friends that work there. So yeah, it’s very important that it gets fixed, quickly. You think I came to you lightly? In that elevator? That I wasn’t afraid to do it? Stop following me around and worrying about what might happen here, and just go fix the place I love to work.”

He slow claps. “Man, you rehearsed that in the mirror, didn’t you?”

I turn back to the copy machine. “Get lost. I’ll be done when I’m done here.”

“This is not a good idea, Hazel. It’s not the way to get what you want.”

“I said beat it.”

Suddenly, he’s right behind me. He leans over, right next to my ear.

“This isn’t a game.”

“I’m aware. Games are fun, and this sucks.”

“I’m serious. Give this up, now.”

I turn around. “Or else what?”

Now, his face is hard. His eyes narrow on mine. “Even if I wanted to be sympathetic to your cause, which I am, I have an obligation to my shareholders. I’m legally bound to do what’s best for them, or I get replaced, at my own company. This is going to get really messy, really fast if you don’t knock it off.” He sighs. “Give me a little more time, and I’ll try to see what I can do, but you can’t throw a tantrum three days after speaking to me. Even I can’t make things move that fast. There’s a lot of red tape and other considerations that you aren’t privy to, that affect these things.”

I don’t know what’s worse: what he’s saying, or how good he smells. Never in my life have I been so overcome with the urge to lean in and sniff somebody’s neck, but here I am.

I take a step back, putting a little bit of space between us. “I don’t care what’s best or convenient for you. This has been slowly happening over years.”

“This isn’t the way to get what you want.”

“What else would you suggest? Talking straight to the CEO? Tried that. Got stalked and laughed at.”

His jaw tightens, muscles jumping, and I don’t know whether he’s trying to come up with a joke or what the hell he’s doing.

He stands there for a long few seconds, staring right at me. “Come have a drink with me.”

Wait what?

That was unexpected.

Of all the possibilities, I didn’t see that coming.

“Did you just hit on me?” I glance around like surely this didn’t just happen. “Are you asking me on a date?”

“Don’t flatter yourself.” He stiffens up a little. “I’m trying to be diplomatic, and this is not the place to discuss this.”

“Absolutely not.” I haven’t always made the smartest choices, but this one’s not even worth considering. “I wouldn’t have a drink with you, even if you weren’t my boss.”

“This could be settled easier if you could be a little flexible.”

I swear it can’t be true, but I’m pretty sure there was a little devious spark in his eye when he told me to be “flexible.”

“You’re wasting your time.”

“Fine. I tried.”

All of a sudden, I remember how devastating he was on the football field—at least, that’s what Dad always says, having watched every single one of Paxton’s games during his college days.

In one, lightning-fast motion, he sweeps the copies out of the tray before I know what’s happening, and he’s marching them to the counter.

“How much for these?”

I finally come out of shock, and take off directly behind him, almost too stunned to speak. I try to yank my copies out of his hand. “What are you doing?”

He looks down at my feeble attempt and laughs. “Good luck, I haven’t fumbled since ninety-two.”

I raise my voice and still try to get them once more. “What are you doing?”

“What does it look like?”

When the kid behind the desk, with two huge eyes watching us, takes too long to answer, Paxton simply takes out his wallet and removes a hundred-dollar bill.

“Keep the change, kid!” He smiles, scoops them up, and starts to haul them out the door.

He can’t do this! Can he? There has to be some kind of stealing-someone’s-copies law.

The kid doesn’t put up a fight at the register, so Paxton heads out the door with my fliers in his arms.

“Wait!” I take off for the door. “Give me my…!” I stop my sentence and sprint even harder at him.

He’s still walking away, super-fast with gigantic strides, toward a black sixty-eight Dodge Charger. He slings them in the passenger seat through an open window, then gets into his car, laughing like a damn child. Like this is the most fun he’s had in ages.

“You can’t do that!” I run toward his door, just as he turns and smiles all big at me.

Is this seriously happening?