Rich and Bossy (Rich Boys)

17. Paxton

CHAPTER 17

Paxton

“The hell are we doing here?” John hangs his coat on the back of a chair before pulling it out to take a seat. “There weren’t any dark alleys available, you cryptic asshole?”

I’m not in the mood for jokes, but I manage to force a smile. “This will do.”

He grimaces at the slightly sticky tabletop. “You sure? Jesus.”

I make myself laugh. Okay, it’s a real laugh. He looks genuinely uncomfortable. “You used to drink filth off beer pong balls in dixie cups. This is an upgrade.”

“That was different.”

“How the hell was that any different?”

“I was younger. Stronger immune system. And I wanted to win.”

“Your system gets stronger as you age.”

“Not forever, dipshit. Seriously, what the fuck?” I notice his reluctance doesn’t stop him from accepting the beer I slide his way. “So, what do we need to discuss outside of the office, or our homes for that matter?” He scowls at the glass but manages to still muster the courage to take a drink.

“Not enough beer at my place.” I drain my pint glass and signal to the waitress I’ll have another. “And I’m thirsty.”

His eyes narrow. “You okay? Fuck.” He scowls at the place and then at me again. “Everything all right with the fam?”

I appreciate the concern. He’s always considered my family part of his own, and vice versa. There were complications with the twins, and he was there every step of the way.

“Family’s fine. I’m a little more concerned with what I found at the Minnie warehouse today.”

One thing I’ve always appreciated about John, more than just about anything else sometimes, is his complete lack of a game face. Granted, it doesn’t come in handy when we’re in a meeting with shareholders, but on the whole, I like knowing I can read him like a book.

He sits up a little straighter, his expression blank, but it’s too late. “Why were you at the warehouse earlier?”

“No. Don’t do that. Don’t change the subject.”

“The subject involves the warehouse, which you brought up. Why you were there seems like a fair question. Why don’t we start with that?”

“I don’t need to justify visiting a property of our company.”

He rolls his eyes, falling back in his chair. Now that false cluelessness has been ruled out, he’s going to get petulant. “Why don’t you ask what you want to ask?”

“Fine.” I lean in, elbows on the table, not caring if it’s sticky or not. “What’s with the mandatory meeting I walked in on?”

“I’m sorry. I thought we were tasked with snuffing out the union talk. What the fuck, man?”

“But like that?” I grimace, and I don’t care if my expression is one of disdain or not. I think part of me is so goddamn mad about it because of what it did to Hazel. How dejected she looked afterward, when she just gave up. I want to make fucking heads roll for that.

Not to mention, I always believed we were above shit like that. It’s most likely illegal, even if it’s never enforced. “It was over-the-top fear porn. I doubt it’s even that effective.”

“Oh, that asshole gets results. It’s definitely effective.”

“At what? Scaring our people?”

“What’s with you? We’re running a goddamn billion-dollar business we have to protect. You need to act like it.”

“Thank you for the reminder. Sometimes I forget.”

“No, I don’t want to hear your sarcasm. I’m the operating officer, remember? I’m in charge of operations.”

“That dude all but told everyone a bunch of them would get fired if they try to unionize.”

“Would you rather we let that little girl form a damn union? Be able to shut down the whole warehouse if we don’t bend to every petulant little tantrum they throw about three-ply toilet paper in the fucking bathroom? And even if she’s not capable of getting anything going, people start talking, they start getting ideas. If anything, she started the ball rolling. No, maybe they need a little fear, and then we can come in and make a couple minor changes, and everyone’s happy.”

Now I know what it feels like to be torn in half, the same way Hazel said. I can’t play both sides. That’s precisely how it feels. I’m getting ripped down the middle. Caught between CEO duties and a girl who I can’t get off my mind, even if she wants nothing to do with me now.

That should have made it easier, too. The way she flipped out and then gave up. It should make this simple. I should thank her for that.

How can I do it when I agree with her that changes need to be made? No, I think a union is a bad idea and there are better ways to solve this. At the same time, I wasn’t the one behind that meeting, but it still falls on me. I’ve always prided myself on taking credit and blame in equal measure. What kind of man would I be if I didn’t voice my disagreement about this?

“It’s wrong. There are other ways to go about it. Maybe we’ve been pushing them too hard anyway. Maybe some of the new policies aren’t worth the extra performance.”

“What else do we have?” He leans back like he’s waiting for ideas. “The board and shareholders love it. Can’t stop raving, want it rolled out faster everywhere. Not to mention, we start caving to demands and it’s a never-ending cycle. The investors and board won’t go for it. They watch us like hawks, and they’re worse than Sensei Kreese. No mercy. Besides, I’m sure this put an end to it.”

“What makes you think that?”

He takes a long pull from his pint glass. “She only talked to, like, twenty people. Sure, it’s easy to get people to nod along during a bitch session. It’s a whole other thing when the stakes start getting real, and the pressure gets ratcheted up, which is what the meeting did. This let them know. We know what they’re thinking, and it’s a horrible idea.”

“How do we know how many people she talked to anyway?”

“Come on, man. Don’t be na?ve.”

“Enlighten me on the nuances of how operations run.”

He leans in, like someone might be listening. This doesn’t look like I’m going to enjoy what he has to say.

“Of course the place has cameras and mics everywhere. Don’t be ridiculous. It’s for this exact reason, to measure warehouse morale. There’s an algorithm analyzing any sound the mics pick up, certain phrases and words. Then it spits the clips out to my IT guys, so they can quantify everything, the moods of employees. Starts to dip, we do something to ease it. Going good, we’re fine.” He leans back with a satisfied smile. “Makes my job easier.”

“Sounds a lot like spying on people. I mean, that’s exactly what it is.”

“We don’t have them in the bathrooms and shit, pervert. It’s not illegal. We’re allowed to have cameras and monitor everything in our own buildings within the law, for security reasons.”

“Jesus.” I shake my head.

“Look, it’s one thing to get a couple dozen people riled up in one location, but she would need to reach thousands of employees if there was any hope of this pipe dream of hers, and she just doesn’t have the resources.” He offers a lazy shrug. “I mean, she set up some social media stuff. My guys infiltrated it easily with some sock puppet accounts so they can watch it. She’s trying to collect email addresses, but that’s a dead end. It’s not like she has access to employee directories. If she gets a meaningful number of people to join any of her groups, we have accounts ready to push back on anything she posts. Ask questions that will get people thinking. Very subtle stuff that sows doubt and looks organic, like legit concerns. It’s dead in the water. Without help, which she doesn’t have, this will fall flat.”

“You sure about that?”

“I have connections at the company she uses for her newsletter. Sometimes the servers go down for maintenance. Sometimes all your emails end up in spam folders. These things happen, totally at random.” He wears a satisfied smile on his face. “Like I said, I have this under control.”

Goddamn. I know him and this isn’t who he is. He’s seriously spooked about this thing, and what could happen to us if we don’t end this.

All I feel is pain. I tried to tell Hazel she doesn’t have a damn chance in hell, and to do it my way, but she wouldn’t listen. And she got crushed, just like I knew she would.

“It could get a lot worse. Trust me.” He takes another sip of his beer. “I hope it doesn’t, but fuck. This isn’t gonna happen for her. It’s my job to make sure it doesn’t.”

My hands ball into fists, because I don’t want my best friend pitted against her. I just don’t.

Why do I have to like her so much? Why do I have to care?

I didn’t want to see her go through any of this.

She still has hopes, ideals, dreams. It really seemed like her dreams got crushed out there tonight. I don’t want that. I know exactly what it feels like to have your dreams crushed.

My stomach is in knots and I have to tread really careful. I can’t bring myself to meet John’s gaze, either.

“I don’t think you have anything to worry about. The meeting probably squashed it.” I can’t exactly tell him she straight up told me it’s over. That’d lead to more questions.

“Really? You just said it wouldn’t work earlier. What the hell?”

I shake my head. “Look, just do me a favor? Keep me in the loop on this. I don’t like being in the dark if we’re doing this kind of stuff.”

If he rolls his eyes any harder, they might fall out of his head. “Can you not micromanage me, you fuck? Jesus. I’m doing my job, for us. Maybe I don’t want you to have to know about these things. Plausible deniability. It’s why I don’t tell you.”

“I appreciate you running operations, and fighting for our company, but if this stuff gets out, I want to know in advance. I don’t want to be blindsided.”

“And I just told you, nobody is going to find out about this, because I know how to do my job. It’s dead already, and I’m making sure it stays that way. Haven’t heard a peep on her little social media since the meeting. What is with you?” He stares at me for a long time.

I can’t even look at him, just down at my glass. When I eventually lift my eyes, finally looking at my friend, he’s staring at me like I’m a stranger. His brows knit together, eyes going narrow. Something tells me I know where this is headed.

And I’m right.

“Oh. Oh, no.” He shakes his head, his expression turning to one of horror. “This isn’t happening right now.” He looks away, laughing, though it’s obviously a fake laugh.

“What?”

He points. “No, you brought me here. Don’t do this shit now.” He waves a finger at me. “Whatever this reaction is. You’re a horrible liar. No, you sit there and you say it. I want to hear it come out of your mouth.”

Fuck. Well, it was inevitable. He was going to find out, even though I wanted to initiate it. Maybe he reads me as good as I read him.

When I can’t find the right words, even though I search hard for them, he leans in.

“You’re fucking her? The chick that’s trying to form a union at the warehouse?”

“Could you keep your voice down?” It’s bad enough the waitress threw a curious look our way when she delivered a couple new beers.

He stares up at the ceiling, then back at me, clearly not hearing the question I just asked him. He repeats, even slower. “You are fucking. The woman. At the warehouse.” His voice rises through his sentences, until he’s practically shouting by the end. “This is not happening to me.” He falls back into his chair, looking at the ceiling.

“Hey, keep it down.” I slide a look toward the bar. A few other patrons have started to take notice, and they don’t bother hiding their curiosity. “Jesus.”

For what feels like an eternity, he glares at me, unblinking. I can see the wheels turning in his head, playing everything out, possibly imagining the different ways he could murder me and hide the body. He’s going to flip the fuck out.

Finally, he finds his voice again, while massaging his temples. “This is a nightmare.”

I hate to pile this on him, but I have to get it all out. It’s eating at me. “Want to hear something worse?”

“Of course, it gets worse?” Now, he’s just smiling, but it’s like a crazy person would smile. Like bring it on, dump it all out there.

“Depends on the point of view.”

“Oh, I bet it fucking does.”

I take a deep breath. “I like her. I like her a lot.”

“Fuckkkk me.” He draws out the f bomb, then buries his head in his hands, shoulders heaving as he tries to breathe. “You do know how to make it worse.” He’s laughing, like he’s slowly going insane.

“I do what I can.”

Finally, he just leans back, grinning his ass off, shaking his head. “What the hell am I going to do with you?”

I’m worried I might need to drop him by the psych ward for an evaluation. “Sorry?” I try with a shrug.

His eyes narrow, his brain still has to be running a thousand miles an hour. “Okay. Okay.” He rolls his shoulders back, lifting his chin. He speaks slow and deliberately, and it’s obvious he’s trying not to melt down. “Now, I’m… Uhh, I’m trying to separate our personal relationship from the professional side of things. As a friend, you know I’ve always got your back. Right? Like, no bullshit, no joke. I’m always on your side.”

“I appreciate that.” I lean back a little, knowing the hammer is about to drop.

Sure enough, his jaw tenses, and his words start coming through his teeth. “This is a horrendous fucking idea.”

“I'm aware.”

He waves a dismissive hand at me. “Like, even if I wanted to support this ... whatever this fucking is, you know I can’t. Right ? Like I legit legally cannot fucking do it.”

“Thought the laws don’t apply to us? That’s what you said about the union-busting shit.”

“Oh, pull your head out of your ass, Pax. The law doesn’t apply in reverse. It’s one-sided as fuck. It doesn’t work against people like our investors. No, I would be in actual legal jeopardy if they caught wind of this bullshit, and you know that. You know it, and you’re still sitting there, like this relationship is even possible for you.”

Why do I like the sound of a relationship with Hazel and me?

My bland, quiet acceptance seems to only exacerbate things. His face begins to go red.

His head starts to shake, like the frustration is finally settling in and bubbling up. “We’ll lose the whole fucking company. I mean, we can act all we want like we own the place, but we don’t. That whole IPO thing, remember that? The thing that allowed us to blast into the stratosphere and take over the world? It also means the company doesn’t belong solely to us. They have us by the fucking nuts, and if your little girlfriend keeps making waves, they will absolutely relieve us of a decade and a half of work. They will replace us with people who will crush her under their heel.”

“I sure do appreciate this refresher course in how business works.”

“Cut the bullshit.”

“Fine. No bullshit. I know exactly what you’re saying. You weren’t telling me anything I don’t already know. But it’s not like I intended for any of this to happen.”

“How long has it been happening?” He points down at the table. “How long were you going to wait to tell me? If I hadn’t figured it out.”

“Not long, I swear. Possibly during this conversation, depending on how it was going. I didn’t mean for it to happen.”

“I know.” He slumps again, looking miserable. “And that’s the only reason I’m not breaking this bottle over the table and slitting your giant fucking neck with it.”

“Thank you for your restraint.”

“You’re welcome. Just… Fuckkk.” He draws out the word again. He rubs his temples, his face reminding me of the way Dad used to look when Poppy and I would bicker nonstop. “You want to date her? Fine. But can you please get her to stop this shit? That’s the only way this can work. Either you forget about her and we bury this union talk, or you get her to stop. Because if this goes the way it’s going, and you’re trying to be with her… You’re a smart guy. You know what I have to do. And you know I won’t enjoy doing it. I’ll have to do things that make you fucking hate me. We can try to get things a little better over there. We’re creative, but she’s not getting every goddamn thing on her wishlist. Not even close. She’s just not. We can’t deliver that.”

“I know. And to be honest, it’s going to be fine.”

“How so?” He stares at me like I’m an idiot.

“I kind of got into it with her, after the meeting. She saw me there and we went outside. I said some shit. It was bad.”

“Damn. Yeah, with your temper, I imagine it was.”

“She stormed off, told me I won. Said I got what I wanted, she’s done. I think she’s scared of what will happen if she moves forward with it.”

He sits there, staring at me for a long time. “I’m sorry, man.”

My eyes widen a little. “What? Why? I just said things are probably going back to normal.”

“Yeah, but you also fucking said you really like her, and then you said you went off and fucked it all up. I’m sure that’s bothering you. It sucks, man. Hence why I said I’m sorry, like a good best friend would.”

He still amazes me sometimes. He really is a selfless guy. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. This does make my job easier, as difficult as it is for you. If she’s really done, I will ease up as much as I can. I love you, man. I’ll always have your back.”

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. You’re all I have too, you know?”

“I know, and I appreciate it.”

I guess everything is good.

I just need to get her to forgive me. That’s doable, right?

No. Fucking. Way.

She hates your guts now.

I have to take a chance though. I have to.

I’ve never felt this way before, and I’ve never backed down when something got tough.

She’s still going to be mine.