Rich and Bossy (Rich Boys)

25. Paxton

CHAPTER 25

Paxton

Oh boy, this is going to be a fun one.

I’m trying to make my way into the corporate office. Finally got out of that nightmare of a traffic jam. All through the ride, I’ve prepared myself, even run through a few things that I think can get me through the morning. I just have to calm the panic. The largest investors and the board. I get them to leave me alone and all will be well. I can get a handle on this. I’ve always been able to do anything I’ve set my mind to.

When I stroll in, the legal team is all over the place, and there’s horror on all their faces.

Well that’s not good.

It’s not them I’m most concerned with though. Bree asked me to go to the conference room when I got here. I knew the head of legal and several departments affected would be waiting. They want guidance. They want a leader to take charge and tell them what to do, and I’m the person they’re looking to for that.

John comes up to me in the hall. He looks like he’s about to lose it. I hate knowing all the anxiety he must be dealing with.

“Just relax, man. I’ll take care of this.”

“How the fuck you gonna take care of it?” he whisper-screams in my ear.

I glare at him like man up . “I’ll get them under control, give them direction. We need to avoid a panic, and your face isn’t helping matters. Lose your shit in private, not where anyone else can see. Okay?”

He nods along, like he understands. Then we walk in together.

It feels kind of good, actually. I’m not going to lie, for a split-second it’s like the old days. The two of us together, fighting insurmountable odds. I truly believe it’s those hard times, when we were eating fried bologna and Ramen, working twenty-four seven that made our friendship as strong as it is.

If we could get through more almost-fist-fights than I can count, we can find a way through this. Part of me loves this. We’ve been so comfortable for so long. I forgot what it’s like to fight in the trenches.

I just don’t want to fucking fight Hazel!

I look at him one last time before we get through the doors. “Lock it up.” I give him my hardest stare I can manage.

He bursts out laughing. “How the hell you gonna pull a Wedding Crashers on me right now?” Then he stares back, trying not to laugh, and finally manages. “No, you lock it up.”

“Lock it up.” Then I push through the doors, smiling like I don’t have a care in the world.

We both march into the large, sunlight-filled room. “Where are we?” I roll up my sleeves, prepared to spend the entire day in this room if necessary. Bree muttered something about ordering food and coffee to be delivered. It occurs to me now that I barely acknowledged her at the time. Too busy questioning everything about my personal life to be able to focus right then.

I need to apologize to her for that.

It’s only been a matter of hours since I was last with Hazel. And this isn’t the sort of situation that comes together overnight. She knew damn well what she had in store this morning, and part of me is kind of impressed at how well she compartmentalized everything.

She could be a damn CEO if she wanted. I know how dangerous—not to mention pointless—it is to keep letting my mind drift, but I’m only human.

John stares at me like he agrees with everything I say as I get the rundown from the legal team. He knows as well as I do what’s truly at stake here. But I still wonder what he really thinks about all this. I know he says he has my back, but does he really?

Of course he does.

Don’t be ridiculous.

He’s been through it all with you and never wavered at the end of the day.

“It’s not looking good. We’re on our heels.” Our lead counsel looks like he’d rather tear out his own tongue than deliver the bad news.

“We can’t control what they’re doing. How do we counter something like this?”

Erica, our PR manager, rubs her temples while grimacing. “We need to get out a message that this isn’t the way. We’re losing in the court of public opinion fast if we don’t get a face out there countering their narrative.”

“I’m sure they’re going to state a list of demands. If they’re smart, they’ll keep it simple. Something easy for the public and the workers to understand, and that those simple points are what the union will focus on getting for them.”

“What are our options?”

“Well, we can get out ahead and negotiate on their demands to try to squash the union in its tracks.”

For a moment, all I can do is stare at each of them in turn. “So, roll over?”

“Negotiate. Try to minimize losses. They’d probably buckle without getting everything they ask for.”

“What are they asking for?”

“They haven’t said yet.”

“So, we just wait and let them run the damn show?” I don’t glare, but I try to make sure they know how serious I’m taking this.

John jumps in, taking me a little by surprise. “You mean to tell me with all the brainpower in this room, this is the only shit you guys can come up with? What the hell are we paying you for?” His face is red and he’s practically shaking.

Jesus, I’ve never seen him like this. Even I get a little wide-eyed and stare at him like what the hell are you doing ?

Everyone looks taken aback.

“With all due respect, none of us are miracle workers.” Sean looks around the room, where his colleagues nod and generally look miserable. One of them hasn’t stopped typing frantically since I arrived. I assume she’s working on a statement for the press. The lady is practically sweating bullets.

How the hell did you let things get this out of control?

Now is not the time for me to listen to that voice in my head, no matter how truthful it is. Later, I can sit down and ice my ego and admit I’m taking a damn beating.

“We’re not asking for miracles.” I manage to modulate my voice, at least, so it eases up on them a little.

“The hell we’re not. I want some fucking miracles and I want them in the next hour.”

For fuck’s sake. All I can do is stare at him, then quickly move my focus back to the room.

Before I can say anything else, he’s at it again.

“She’s not working on her own. I want intelligence. I want to know everything they’re doing next before they do it. I don’t give a shit how it gets done. You act like your job is on the line, because it is. Enough of this bullshit.”

Sean gulps. “We have people looking into it. I’ll have an intelligence briefing with you soon.” Sean looks like he’s glad he can at least give me decent news.

Maybe it’s a good thing John is driving them like this. I don’t know. I didn’t expect him to do this.

John now has his phone out, watching something. “You shitting me? She has a camera crew following her to the warehouse.”

No need for him to name the person he’s talking about. He glances my way before going back to watching everything unfold.

I look at my own phone, at the inbox that’s getting notifications by the second. I can only imagine how many phone calls Bree has already taken this morning. That’s going to be the real challenge. Keeping the investors and the board out of our business.

“Guarantee she’s going to address the workers. We should turn the sprinklers on those fuckers once everybody gets together inside the building.” John looks around, his eyes going cold when Sean and his team wince. “What?”

“We can’t do that. It’s illegal. We have to let her talk to people.”

John glares like that’s unacceptable. “There has to be something we can do. We can’t just sit here and let this happen. It’s unacceptable. We need to grow a damn pair of balls.”

This is some kind of halftime speech he’s giving. He sounds like my old coaches when they were dissatisfied with what they just saw on the field.

He turns to Sean. “They’re not playing fair. You hear her interview earlier on that podcast? Total bullshit. They don’t give a damn about fighting dirty.” He taps his screen. “That’s why I called the city and had them fuck with the lights, so people coming in for work would pull straight through.”

“You did what?” I turn to him, now refusing to hide my surprise.

John shrugs. “Backed up traffic half a mile on the cross road in both directions. Didn’t need our workers gawking at picketers, hearing what they have to say. Some of those damn TV cameras couldn’t get in right away, either. Win, win. It’s the only success we’ve had today.”

I don’t even know who he is right now.

Turning to Sean, I ask, “Seriously, what do we do now? What’s the first step out of this?”

John bursts out laughing. A demonic laugh. “What do we do ? We crush these fucks, that’s what we do. They need to know who they’re fucking with.”

He’s never cursed in front of our team like this, and it’s definitely having an effect on them. He sounds like a damn war general, forget a football coach.

The worst part is, I have to go along with it. I can’t challenge him in front of everyone and he knows that. I plan to have a serious conversation with him about this after we dismiss the team.

“The best thing we can do right now,” Sean counters, “is express our dissatisfaction with the way this has been introduced. I could point out the fact that there was never a meeting requested with management before this exploded.”

“You think it’s wise to act surprised?” I look around the room.

“It’s our word against theirs.” John glares. “And the fact is, there are procedures in place for this kind of shit, and they bypassed them. Unless we make it clear here and now that this is unacceptable, we’re going to get the same shit in every warehouse across the country. This will get worse if we don’t squash them in their tracks, like I said before.”

“He does have a point.” Sean looks like it pains him to say it. “I would suggest leaning into the fact they have been secretive and backhanded. People don’t like that kind of thing. They’ll root for the workers, so we need to point out any and all mistakes they’ve made. How they’ve handled this in a poor way. People can relate to that. And adjusting traffic lights and turning on sprinklers will undermine that message dramatically.”

“Hey, a fight’s a fight.” John crosses his arms over his chest.

I hate that all of this has to be couched in gentle, noncommittal language. I would almost rather everybody be blunt, the way John is. He won’t come out and say it, but Sean’s suggesting a little saber-rattling, a little veiled threat. Thinly veiled, no doubt, but nothing too obvious.

“Fuck that.” John snorts. “This shit is already all over the news. Even if we shut things down here at this warehouse, the seed has been planted. The idea. We need to snuff it out with every resource we have. This is the kind of thing that gets people talking. They’re not going to forget about it. We need them to know it’s unacceptable, and we’re not fucking around. If they want to try it somewhere else, they can fucking get some too.”

“Well, we can’t fire her or any other dissenters,” Sean reminds him in a tight voice, which I’m sure is what John has been hinting at this entire time.

John turns on him, and I know he’s about to lose his shit. The tension in the room is thick enough to cut with a knife.

“The hell we can’t. We’re watching all of them. They clock in a minute late, it’s a note in the file. They don’t hit their numbers. Note. If they do hit their numbers, we adjust performance requirements in their department to make it impossible. We’ll root out every last traitor in their ranks.”

This is why I make the big bucks. When I stand, the room falls silent. Even John’s mouth snaps shut. “What I’m hearing right now is a lot of emotion.” I stand up a little straighter. “Let’s see what they do today. Keep going through everything, every single option. I don’t care what it is, all ideas can be on the table, even if we don’t act on them. This will be measured and appropriate.” I stare at John when I say the last one but try to turn to the rest of the room not to single him out. “We’ll regroup in the morning with better heads on our shoulders, better prepared. By then, we’ll be able to form a plan of attack based on data, logic...” I look at John. “What’s best for the company, long term .”

He only blows out a soft sigh, then holds his hands up. “Fine.” Then he points at the room. “You guys be ready to fight. This is war.” He points down at the table for the last sentence.

The room empties at record speed, and I shoot Bree a quick message to tell her to postpone the food delivery until tomorrow. That’s when we’ll need it.

Soon it’s only John and me in this big room. He taps the corner of his phone on the table, his gaze darting back and forth from me to the screen. I don’t particularly want to get into this with him right now, but he is my business partner. He’s also my friend, and if I’ve ever needed one, now’s the time.

“What the hell was that?” I just stare at him, dumbfounded, as soon as I’m sure nobody else can hear or see us.

“How’s Hazel?”

Now, all I can do is blink. He didn’t even ask it sarcastically. “Sorry, just… What?”

“How is she? This has to be pretty intense for her.”

“Forget Hazel right now. What the hell has gotten into you? What the fuck was that back there?”

He shrugs. “What? Someone has to be the asshole. It’s what they expect. This is a big deal. I’m taking the heat off you.” He stares at me like I just grew three heads.

“So that was all, what? A show?”

He shakes his head. “Jesus, man. Don’t you play chess. I know you’re serious about her. I’ve never seen you like this. You even said think long term. Have you thought that about yourself?”

I’m so taken aback I don’t know what to say.

He just smirks at me, still smiling. “They’re all going to find out about her. I’ve seen the way you talk about her, the way you look at her. It’s for real. Which means at some point your relationship will be public. I’m trying to minimize the fallout from that, when it happens.”

“You’re more worried about my love life than the company?”

“No, I’m worried about both. So what I just did was the correct play.”

“You couldn’t have let me in on your little plan before blindsiding me like that, fuckhead?” I glare at him.

“No, I couldn’t. Your actions needed to look real and genuine, and you’re a fucking horrific actor. And you’re a self-righteous piece of shit who wouldn’t allow me to do it, so I did it anyway. You handled it perfectly. We’re doing the right thing. I rattled their cage. You have plausible deniability and looked like a decent, well-respected leader. Mission accomplished, if I do say so myself.” He looks very pleased.

I rub my temples, trying to get a handle on this. Finally, common sense dawns on me, and all I can do is look up at him. “Thanks, man. You really are the best friend I could ask for.”

“No shit. Now, let’s get to work. But first, answer my question.”

“How’s Hazel?” I shake my head. “I don’t know. It was all going pretty damn well last night.”

He laughs. “No shit, you two were together last night? I’m guessing she didn’t tell you about all this.”

My stare hardens. “No, she did not.”

“That chick has balls. I’m starting to like her more. I see why you fell for her. She’s devious as shit.”

“She’s not devious. She’s a good person, I just…”

“I know we both wish she would’ve told you, but you understand why she couldn’t, right?”

When I don’t respond, he just stares.

“She couldn’t man, so you need to let that go, and we’ll figure out what to do. Together, okay?”

It still feels like betrayal. I know what John’s doing, but I disagree with him. I don’t like the fact she slept with me, smiled at me all night long, knowing this was going to happen. Last night was incredible, but I don’t know. I’m so confused.

“Look, we have a lot in front of us and you need to stay focused. The task is twice as difficult now. We have to do what’s right for this place, and save your relationship.”

“I don’t know if it’s possible. I feel like I have to choose. I don’t even know if there’s a relationship anymore, to be honest.”

“You’re fucking brilliant. We both are. We’ve always found a way.” He stares me down, looking serious, like for real serious, for the first time today. “We have to. There’s no other option here.”

“Okay.”

“Look, don’t get me wrong. I think this is a bunch of bullshit, and it’s obvious she blindsided you. But you have to figure out how to deal with that. That’s a future problem. In the meantime, we need to look like we’re stomping this thing out, so that’s what I’m doing to do. I’m going to look like I want this thing fucking crushed. Just let me know if I go too far.”

Sometimes, he surprises me. It shouldn’t surprise me, but it does, knowing there’s someone who cares about things the way he does. “Thank you.” I manage a helpless shrug. “That’s all I can think to say. Thank you.”

“It’s actually kind of fun. I haven’t felt this alive in a while. Reminds me of when I thought I might switch my major to acting for a few weeks there.”

“Because you were fucking a crazy actress.”

“Ol’ crazy Brittany, good times. We did some things.” Soon he sighs, serious again. “But we are going to have to make a move. Soon. They’re going to be on our asses like never before.”

He doesn’t have to say who they is.

“I know.” I rub my temples, though it doesn’t do anything against the storm raging in my head. “What if we just made some adjustments over at the warehouse? Get rid of the trackers, upgrade equipment, some kind of limits on what can be robotic to look like we’re keeping some human jobs in place, set some new policies in place for breaks and offer extended periods of leave for family and medical emergencies. Make sure everybody is more comfortable. We don’t have to give all of it, but maybe negotiate some of that shit. It seems like the right thing to do.”

He winces, giving me my answer before he says a word. “That shows weakness. They’ll get rid of us.”

“It shows we can be reasonable. We’re not running a fucking sweatshop. Half that shit shouldn’t have been implemented to start with.” I hold up a hand. “I’m not blaming you. I get why it happened.”

“You’re preaching to the choir. I was under enormous pressure, that mounts more with each quarter. To be honest, I held some of that up as long as I could. Tried to keep it confined to the Minnie warehouse to look like experiments. I was going to delay rolling it out as long as possible. Figured we could ride out profits for a few more holiday seasons. I’m speaking on behalf of our shareholders, not to mention the board. They will not like your suggestion. Most of them are pretty old school when it comes to stuff like this. If it weren’t for laws, they’d work kids eighty hours a week with no safety regulations.”

“Yeah, I know.” I lean my head back against the top of the chair and stare at the ceiling, groaning as I do. “Fuck.”

“Yeah,” John mutters. “This is going to be a fucking epic battle, on multiple fronts.”