Rich and Bossy (Rich Boys)

15. Paxton

CHAPTER 15

Paxton

I’ve never been this tired in my life. Not even back when I was playing ball, after hours of practice followed by hours of studying. I’m fucking exhausted right down to my bones, down to my soul.

I never did like sitting in meetings. Here I was, thinking being the boss meant having control over my fate. Like I could do things my way. First on the agenda: no soul-sucking meetings.

The thing is, no CEO works in a vacuum. And like it or not, sometimes people need to spend a little face-to-face time. I’ve never been a micromanager, but some people are stuck in old ways of doing things. Meaning what could easily have been an email has to turn into a meeting.

And I’ve been in them all week. Every single day. For hours.

It’s exhausting, having to be mentally sharp nonstop for a bunch of stupid questions that don’t need to be asked. That’s another thing; it’s like people are so excited to talk to me, they’ll ask anything, just to do it.

They say there’s no such thing as a stupid question, but I beg to differ. I think most questions are stupid and unnecessary.

At least the subject of unions never came up. It’s got to be some kind of a miracle. Even John hasn’t been on my case about it since that call from Mark and Dan last week. No more calls from Paul Morrison at the warehouse. No rumors, nothing from any of our other locations. I’ve kept my ear to the ground, too. It’s like it just stopped, all chatter.

Did Hazel give up already?

Doesn’t seem like her, but it would be nice. Maybe I can get some small tweaks made to things out there. Something that might make them all a little happier going into the holiday season. Throw a pizza party or some shit, add a few minutes to bathroom breaks, something under the radar of the board.

I’d much prefer I had unilateral control and could just say, hey, fuck the bracelets, monitor the robots better, and give people time to take a piss, and be done with it.

The fact that I even have to think that way doesn’t exactly thrill me, but that’s where I am now. Caught between the responsibilities of running my company and a woman whose face haunts me constantly since the last time I saw her. Thousands of people and untold billions of dollars, versus one woman.

Instead of slumping in my chair, still wrung out after putting on my game face for so many people this week, I head over to John’s office. Knowing him, he’ll be out of the building the second he sees a clear path. If I wait ten more minutes, he’ll be out of here for sure.

Big surprise, he’s in the middle of putting his coat on.

At the sight of me coming down the hall, he holds up a palm and refuses to look at me. “No! Just no!”

“Aww, don’t be like that, baby.” I use my best seductive voice on him.

He plays right into it. “I can’t. You know we shouldn’t.” He uses the same voice I just used, like us talking would be forbidden. Quickly, he’s back to normal though. “Hell week is over. I’m numbered out, meeting’d out, and I’m going home to pass the fuck out.”

“What’s the deal?”

“What?” He won’t even look at me.

“Meetings were all good. Too good. A certain problem was never brought up once.” I stare at him.

As usual, there’s no need for him to ask what I’m talking about. We know each other too well for that. “Told you it’s under control, ho. Let me have my weekend now.”

“No. What you’ve told me all week is, there haven’t been any more signs of trouble.”

He snickers, dismissive. “Same shit.”

“Not exactly. Just because there’s no sign of the rebels, doesn’t mean they’re not coordinating an attack.”

“ Star Wars , you must be really worried. You think we’re the empire?” He cants his head to the side.

“Of course we are.”

He snickers. “Yeah, I guess that’d be correct. Anyway, there’s no rebellion. Relax.”

“I don’t believe you.”

Now, he just looks irritated. “Why are you acting like an old woman? Stop manifesting shit into reality. It’s fine right now.” He claps a hand on my shoulder, gripping tight for a moment before letting go. “I wouldn’t lie to you. Nothing has happened. No chatter, at all, and trust me, we would know. I’ve never steered you wrong.”

“You got me to go on a date with Kristy What’s-her-name, friends with that theatre geek you were dating.”

He points. “I didn’t know she was…” He glances down at my crotch, trying not to laugh. “Infested? It’s not like she had it tattooed on her forehead. Little medication cleared it right up for you.” He finishes putting on his coat, still laughing. “Aside from that, something out of my control, I have a pretty good track record, don’t I?”

Yes, but nothing’s ever been as important as this. He doesn’t seem like he’s in the mood to understand what I’m trying to say, and I know better than to bang my head against a brick wall.

He reads the look on my face and breaks into a wide grin. “She gave up. It’s the only explanation. Most workers don’t want to ruffle feathers. I guarantee she tried and her own friends and coworkers shut it down.”

“Not buying it.” I’m having a hard time believing Hazel would just give up this easy. I would not bet against that.

“It’s the world’s oldest story. She decides she’s going to change the world—until she finds out how difficult that’ll actually be. Then she comes back down to reality, and she moves on with her life. It doesn’t have to be any deeper than that.” One more clap on the shoulder and he’s gone without asking if there was anything else I wanted to talk about.

I can’t believe how much I want him to be right. That would make everything so much easier if Hazel changed her mind, realized there was absolutely no way she could win this, once she’s up against the resources at our disposal. I don’t want to go to war with her.

Mainly because I know how bad we would beat her.

The only question is, did she do it because she saw how impossible it was to win? Or was it because of me? Because of us? I hate thinking that she’d give up on this because she likes me.

I want her to give up on it because it’s a horrible idea, and the worst thing she could do. I will do everything I can to blunt all these changes they’re experimenting with over there. I truly mean that. I might not get rid of all of them, but I can balance it out somehow.

I mull this over on the way back to my office, hardly aware of anyone around me. I don’t know how to feel about any of this. It’s all so confusing.

Did I really use sex to get her to quit? To get something for my company?

It doesn’t matter that my intentions were pure, that I didn’t plan on using her. I would hate for her to look back on that night and regret it. For her to think I did all of that just for money, for my company. It’s so much more. I don’t give a fuck about that.

I like her too much to let her think that way.

I have to talk to her.

I’ve tried to keep some distance, but I need to see her. Every day I don’t see her is torture, especially now that I’ve been inside her.

After letting Bree know I’m on my way out, I grab my coat and do my best to hide from anyone who might want another second of my time.

I think I knew I was going to do this, all day long, because subconsciously I drove the BMW again today. Man, it’s hard. I love my Charger and I know Hazel loves it too. I’m not trying to broadcast my whereabouts to the world, though.

Besides, pulling up in the Charger isn’t exactly an example of being discreet. I’ll attract less attention this way. At the end of the day, I don’t even care. If push comes to shove and somebody wants to know why I’m around, I’ll make up an excuse like visiting with management, checking in to see if there’s been any further developments with these union rumors. Paul will do whatever the hell I tell him to do, and he’ll kiss my ass the whole time.

Hell, the more I think about it, the more I enjoy the idea of surprising him. I almost hope I do have an excuse to announce my presence. I wouldn’t mind watching him squirm while I ask him a bunch of questions.

When I arrive, I pull up around the loading bay, figuring there’ll be so much activity I might go unnoticed. Only there isn’t much activity at all aside from a single warehouse employee who looks like he’s not doing much more than hanging around, keeping an eye on things during his smoke break. This place was buzzing when I visited a couple of weeks back. That couldn’t have been a show put on for my benefit, could it? No way, not with the volume of business we do every day. I might not know every last detail of every last fulfillment center, but thousands of packages ship out from here on a daily basis. That much, I do know.

The guy barely pays attention when I walk up.

“What’s going on? Where is everyone?” I do my best to stay hidden in the shadows of the loading bay.

He stubs out his cigarette, shrugging. “Some kind of meeting. Almost everybody is up in the auditorium. Everyone had to bust ass to make time for it at the end of the shift.” I look over his shoulder to find a single forklift being driven down one of the wide alleys between shelving units, and a pair of workers packing shipments for distribution. Otherwise, it’s almost eerie seeing so little activity.

“Thanks.”

“No problem, man.” It’s obvious he has no idea who I am, and I don’t have the time or inclination to reveal myself.

If he’s enjoying a cigarette break, let him. From what I understand, breaks like this are few and far between.

Since there’s nobody around to stop me, I find the elevator and take it to the third floor. The moment the doors open, I can hear a man’s voice down the hall. I follow it, ending up in the open doorway of a massive auditorium with slanted seating, designed to house the entire warehouse. And the chairs are all filled with workers who should be working, not watching a presentation.

I don’t recognize the man standing at the front, talking to everyone, but he’s wearing a blue polo shirt and reflective vest like the ones everyone else has on.

Behind him is a massive screen, displaying statistics. “This is what happened to this company. You can see their numbers, here.” He turns to the screen, using a laser pointer to highlight the numbers in question. “Within six months, their workforce dropped by fifteen percent. The union’s demands forced the company to restructure, in order to meet their contract. So what started out as a good idea, actually hurt more people. There are eight thousand people in this warehouse. Fifteen percent of that is twelve hundred people. Sure, maybe the rest get a few more things through organizing, but over a thousand of you might be out of a job.”

My jaw tightens a little when I realize what I just happened to walk into. This is a mandatory meeting? Who the fuck decided my employees needed to attend a union-busting meeting? Is this even legal?

“Which of you would be willing to sacrifice your job? Are you willing to give up everything, because a small group of people decided to force a bunch of unreasonable demands into a contract?”

This has to be a fucking joke. I’m not a fan of a union, but this is blatant, anti-union propaganda of the highest order. They’re not even trying to show both sides of the issue. I’m not even convinced this company he’s talking about on the screen exists. He’s not giving any names or details. How can this information be verified? This is pure fearmongering to squash any talks of a union.

I’m tempted to raise my hand, identify myself, and start up the Q&A portion a little early. Starting with who hired this asshole to come in here and pretend to dress like one of my employees?

The sick feeling in my stomach tells me I have a pretty good idea who did this, though. Is that why John was so relaxed? He hired a union busting consultant? I know what’s at stake, but this is over the top. It just feels—wrong.

Yet here we are. Here I am.

Not saying shit about it.

And I should be glad about this. As a businessman with a responsibility to my shareholders, this should make me happy. I should feel relieved.

If these workers form a union, it will seriously strangle future expansion. It’ll fuck all our projections, and the plans to infiltrate and take over other market sectors. We must do that. We must keep expanding to keep investors from fleeing.

Not to mention, we make the world more efficient. We free up time and resources for other things, as opposed to some mom-and-pop place providing these services. We keep costs low and the economy booming. Not to mention the twin cities and the state of Minnesota. The tax revenues they bring in, because we’re pulling in resources from all over the world, and they land right here in Minnesota, for our local use, and the benefit of our local citizens through taxes.

Where would all these magical union benefits come from? Profits, naturally, where else?

When I think about it that way, the answer is simple. Walk away, pretend I didn’t see this, and be glad John is the one handling it.

Right. Like that’s going to happen.

Hazel’s out there somewhere, hidden, fucking fuming, hating my guts. I’m surprised there isn’t a puff of smoke drifting up somewhere, straight out of her ears.

I’m so busy processing my surprise that it takes a minute for me to notice the hair on the back of my neck standing up. A strange, prickly feeling washes over me that’s downright eerie.

It doesn’t take long to figure out where the sensation is coming from. A glance to my left, toward the open door, reveals a certain petite brunette staring fucking lasers, right at the side of my head.

She looks way, way, way different than the last time I saw her. I have no doubt that she wants to murder me. Like I might be worried if she was holding a weapon or had access to one in the general vicinity.

But instead of killing me, she turns on her heel and flees. This time, she’s running even faster than the slant route she ran after the Vike’s game.

I take a deep breath. I shouldn’t do this. I shouldn’t draw attention to myself. I should let her go, and just walk my ass out of here and pretend I never saw anything.

What the hell am I going to do?

Fuck.