by Kelli Walker
It was a good thing Tiffany left. Her presence in those meetings would’ve only made things worse for her. But none of this sat right with me. During my time as a company-flipper, I prided myself in putting my hands into everything. I reorganized every department to make them more efficient. And the H.R. department at Instatech was no different. So why the fuck didn’t I know something like this was going on? Tiffany was right. I was there when all this shit went down with her father.
Did someone actively attempt to keep it out of my way?
Even though I didn’t have any other meetings scheduled for the week, I decided not to go back to the States. My P.R. department was handling things as best as they could, and if I came back from a business trip early the media outlets would latch onto that as a sign of panic. But that didn’t mean I couldn’t start my own investigation into what the fuck happened while I was at Instatech.
“Kenneth Weber. Holy fuck, I can’t turn on the damn television without seeing your face right now.”
“Hello, Roman.”
“So when I told you to flex your power as a CEO, I didn’t mean in fucking public.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. I know you’ve got jokes. But I want to talk with you about something,” I said.
“You want to talk about that article.”
“Yes. That article. Do you remember Herald Graves?”
“I mean, I briefly remember the entire thing. It really wasn’t a big deal. My Human Resources manager contacted me after the third harassment filing and I suggested a sexual harassment course for the man. Standard procedure here.”
“Why didn’t I know about this while I was there?” I asked.
“Honestly? I thought you’d consider backing out of helping the company. We were in bad shape when I came to you, so I kept it under wraps and took care of it using the same type of protocol we do now.”
“Okay. One, when you signed that contract with me you agreed to being transparent on all things. So technically, you’ve breached your contract.”
“Are you really going to hold me to that stupid thing?”
“Are you really asking me that as a businessman, Roman?”
“Look, Ken. We scheduled the sexual harassment course and he didn’t show up. I had to fire him. That’s what happened. There was no formal investigation because the man hadn’t even gone through the mandatory eight-hour course beforehand. That’s it. That’s all that happened.”
“I’m going to need a lot more than that to combat this story, Roman. I know you know how bad this looks. And I’ve got no information to throw at them to clear up any of this.”
“Just a question, Ken. Did you really have to step out in public with the girl?” he asked. “I mean, have I taught you nothing?”
“Not all of us are blatant womanizers. Tiffany Graves is a fine woman, and I indulged in a weak moment. That’s all that happened. And now, her father’s face is plastered all over the news and I’m being painted as a man who had a hand in how he died.”
“Not all of us can be great with women,” he said.
“You can stop with that nonsense now,” I said curtly.
“Ken, lighten up. If the media senses blood in the water, they’re going to eat you alive. You’ve only been with your company for a few weeks, at best. You need to keep this as light-hearted as possible. And you need to start by firing that woman.”
“I’m not firing her.”
“Then move her to a different department, Ken. But that needs to be your first move before you do anything else.”
“Was there any video footage of what this man was doing?” I asked. “Anything else H.R. had on him besides the harassment filings?”
“Ken, I don’t know. I really don’t. This shit was years ago. I’d have to go back into logs and dig through paperwork. But I know how procedure works around here because I fucking wrote it. If there were videos, he would’ve been fired without the offering of a class.”
“So there’s a chance videos exists. Because that’s what the media’s reporting happened,” I said.
“Ken. Breathe. If you want the information, I’ll go dig it up for you. My gut feeling is there isn’t any footage because I offered him that class. I know I did. And a janitor of any sort would’ve had knowledge of where those cameras were in the building at the time anyway.”
“Still, I’d enjoy any information you could give me on it. I have a feeling this is the story the media will stick to, and each news cycle is going to bury me and this company a little more.”
“I’ve got you. Okay? I’m a crass motherfucker with a lust for loose women, but that doesn't mean I don’t have some morals.”
“Emphasis on the ‘some’,” I said with a grin. “And I saw that fun little message you left for me on Tiffany’s first day. She notated some of the things you said to her. We need to talk about that.”
“Oh come on. I was joking around. She sounded very pretty on the phone, but looking at these pictures of the two of you together? I can see why you-- what was the word you used? Indulged.”
“Enough, Roman. Tuck it in.”
“Fine. Such a party pooper. She is beautiful, though, so congrats on that. Give me until the end of the day. Whatever I can dig up on this mess I’ll shoot your way.”
“All right. Thanks for talking with me. Though I’m still trying to figure out what I’m going to do about your breach of contract.”
“You could tie me up and spank me,” he said.
“Something tells me you’d enjoy that a little too much.”
“Only if you had a beautiful set of tits and long legs.”
“Thanks for your time.”
“Anytime for you, Ken. Let me get off here and get down to H.R. Or at least place a call,” he said.
“Yep. Talk to you soon.”
I hung up the phone and tossed it onto the couch. I brought my drink to my lips and took a long pull. The burning of the scotch down my throat pulled me from reality for a split second and I closed my eyes. I wondered if Tiffany took me up on the offer to use the company card for her flight out. I wanted her to take the jet. I knew she’d be safe and away from reporters in that thing. But I wasn’t going to shove something like that on her in the emotional frenzy she was already in. Part of me wanted to fly back with her. Escort her home and make sure she could get to her mother in a safe and orderly fashion.
But in my world, appearances were everything. And being seen with her in public like that after these kinds of stories?
Not good.
I stood at the window and looked out over the expanse of the city. I loved views like these. Ones where I could see for miles. Ones where the sky stretched on forever and the people below me walked around as if nothing in the world could touch them. In another lifetime, I would’ve lived in Switzerland. Moved there and set up a headquarters I could be proud of. But I’d made my living coming into already-established companies and working magic. It would only stand to reason that I’d do the same thing in order to establish longevity in my career.
If I could come back from all this shit, maybe I’d move Casual Recreation’s headquarters to Zurich.
But even with the beautiful view and the water beckoning to me from a distance, a voice clawed at the corner of my mind. That small voice I’d listened to on so many occasions. The voice of my gut that never steered me wrong. There was something off about Roman’s story. Something I didn’t trust. If something like that in my business had ever taken place-- harassment, abuse, negligence-- there wouldn't be a moment where I couldn't readily access that information. I’d have private files on my computer to pull up at a moment’s notice in order to defend my actions. A long-term janitor suddenly harassing female employees would’ve stuck out in my mind for years to come. And it wasn’t as if this incident occurred a decade or so ago.
It only occurred five years ago.
Maybe I was thinking too much into things. Maybe other business owners didn’t operate with the same principals I did. Scra
tch that, I knew they fucking didn’t. But if there was one thing we all had in common, it was an addictive attentiveness to our businesses. People who sat in positions of power like myself or Roman babied their companies. Treated them like their most prized possession. In my thirty five years of living and in the thirteen years I’d been in the business industry, I’d met no person-- man or woman-- that couldn't tell me most, if not all, of the intimate details of their business.
Their baby.
Their pride and joy.
And the fact that Roman couldn't even recall something like this that happened only five years ago bothered me. Roman was many things, but unattentive was not one of them. He was loud. Rude. Direct when it came to women and what he thought of them and their beauty. A lot of things about his personality rubbed me wrong at times, but his business acumen fucking was spot-on. Yes, Instatech struggled there for a little while. All businesses did at one point. And he had the ability to set his damn pride aside and ask for help.
It was one of the things I admired about Roman, despite his personality flaws.
So for him to be unable to recall details of something like this? Not something I would’ve expected from him.
And my gut had latched onto that.
Tiffany
“Miss Graves, when did you get back into the country?”
“Miss Graves, what is the status of you and Mr. Weber’s relationship?”
“Miss Graves, is it true that Mr. Weber fired your father without an official investigation?”
“Miss Graves, do you feel Mr. Weber’s responsible for your father’s death?”
Swarms of media assholes were on the front lawn of my home when I pulled up. I had nursed a headache the entire flight back, and it only seemed to be getting worse. I kept my head down and raced to the front door, then promptly let myself in. Everyone wanted a comment. Everyone wanted my opinion. Everyone wanted me to report on the status of my relationship or say something about my father or give them the latest scoop on the hot stories trending all over the damn country.
Everything was spinning out of control.
And I needed some damn medicine for my aching brain.
“Tiffany? Is that you?”
“Mom?” I asked as I set my stuff down. “Where are you?”
“I’m in the bathroom. I need some help.”
Those four words always sent a rush of panic down my back. I tore through the house, racing to my mother’s back bedroom. I crashed into the bathroom and found her lying on the floor, her leg thrown over the edge of the bathtub.
“Mom!”
I wrapped my arms around her and helped her upright. Despite the strong facade, there was a tremble in her voice. A quiver in her lips. I helped her sit down onto the toilet and closed the towel around her body, trying to give her some modicum of dignity.
“Thank you sweetheart,” she said breathlessly.
“Mom. How long have you been on the floor? What happened? Are you hurt?”
“You sound like those reporters out there,” she said with a giggle.
“Mom. I’m serious. Didn’t Paige come by?”
“A few hours ago, yes. I wanted to take a shower to try and soothe the pain in my back and I fell.”
“How long have you been on the floor, Mom?”
“Not long. Maybe five minutes? I promise. I just took off my clothes not too long ago.”
This was exactly why I didn’t want to leave my mother. I wrapped my arms around her and watched as her back jumped. The pain she was in. I couldn't imagine it. I held her closely and closed my eyes, ignoring the cars that kept rushing up and down the road.
And then, it hit me.
“Shit.”
“What’s wrong?” my mother asked.
“I forgot to get your prescription. And I forgot to go to the store.”
“Tiff, it’s fine. You're home and that’s all that matters.”
“You need your medicine, Mom. I can tell you’re in pain.”
“I promise I’m fine.”
“No, Mom. You’re not. And I need you to stop trying to convince yourself that you are.”
I cupped her cheeks and watched them well with tears. I’d only ever seen my mother cry one other time, and that was the day she found my father dead in their home. My mother was strong. Patient. A rock grounded through every storm our family had ever wavered.
And I was watching her cry.
“Okay, here’s how this is going to play out,” I said. “I’m going to get you on a heating pad in your bed. A nice movie, maybe some ice cream. Then I’m going to make a grocery list, run to the store, and get your meds.”
“Don’t leave me here with those animals on my lawn,” she said. “You only just got home.”
“And I swear I’ll be right back. An hour, tops.”
“Tiff, no. Stay.”
“If you want, I can call Paige. But you need your medication and I’m sure there are things in the kitchen you’re running out of but don’t want to talk about because of what’s going on. But we can’t allow our lives to be controlled by the world around us. Okay?”
I leaned forward and kissed my mother’s head before I helped her to her feet. She limped beside me, her entire body collapsing underneath the pain. It would be a miracle if Kenneth didn’t fire me. But if he didn’t, I needed to get a move on this insurance thing. I was required to prove that I took care of my mother financially before she could be covered on my company insurance. Which meant digging up paperwork and getting it submitted.
Things that took time.
Time I didn’t have at the moment.
I helped my mother into her bed and slid the heating pad beneath her back. I turned on the television and got her a small cup of ice cream, then covered her up and tucked her in. Her eyes were already drooping, and I could only imagine the fear that was coursing through her body. The sheer emotional turmoil that was zapping the energy from her bones. I stayed with her until she fell asleep, running my fingers through her hair.
I’d been gone four days, and she looked as if she’d aged ten years.
After I knew my mother was thoroughly asleep, I called the non-emergency police line. There was no way in hell these media reporters could legally swarm my lawn the way they were. I watched as three police cars drove up the block and I watched them all scatter. They all ran to the other side of the road, like the fucking termites they were. Two officers stood with the reporters and kept them held back before another approached the door, and I opened it before he could knock on it and wake up my mother.
“Tiffany Graves?”
“You don’t have to say that like you don’t know who I am,” I said.
“My apologies. I hear you need to make a run for some medication and some food. Do you want a police escort?” the officer asked.
“That won’t be necessary, but I want that pack of animals to stay off my lawn,” I said. “My mother is disabled and she’s scared.”
“Trust me, we’ll make sure they’re held back. If you want, I can post an officer outside of your home as well. In case anything gets too rough.”
“Again, that won’t be necessary so long as they keep their distance. I get that I’m the latest juicy gossip in town, but that doesn’t mean they get to trample my mother’s front lawn.”
“Of course. We’ll make sure regular drive-bys happen so everyone stays happy and safe.”
Happy.
What a crock of shit.
I make a quick list of things I needed from the store, then I set off. I could already tell a couple of the reporters had jumped into their car and were tailing me, and suddenly I wished I’d accepted that offer for an escort. I drove around town for thirty fucking minutes before they finally gave up, and then I slipped into the drug store. I picked up my mother’s prescription and grabbed a few other things. Some Tylenol. Some tampons. Some toilet paper, in case this witch hunt lasted a lot longer than I hoped it would.
Then I headed to the grocery store
.
If someone wasn’t staring, they were snickering. And if they weren’t doing either, then they were taking pictures. The pharmacy wasn’t too bad. It was easy to wait until an aisle was cleared before I walked down it. But the grocery store was an entirely different beast. I tried to ignore everyone. I tried to ignore the pictures that I knew people were uploading to their social media accounts. The stares of women who looked down their noses at me. The people who physically turned and left the aisle because I was in it.
I got a first-hand glimpse into the life my father led before he turned to his drinking. And suddenly, I understood him a little more.
I still believed the accusations about my father were false, but that didn’t stop the reactions he got from people in public. Mothers that swept their children to the other side of the road and people who eyed him carefully before taking the long way around him to get somewhere else. The stares. The disgust. The mocking glances. I always told my father it was in his head to try and make him feel better. He’d grown up in this community. People knew him better than that. I wanted to believe that their knowledge of him would overshadow any one stupid local article about some bullshit that happened at work.
But it wasn’t true.
People who had known me my entire life were suddenly diverting their children down different aisles to get away from me.
And I could see why my father eventually turned to drinking.
The thought alone rushed tears to my eyes. I threw the rest of my stuff in the cart and quickly made my way to a cash register. I piled everything on the belt and held out my card, my hand shaking violently as I did so. The man behind the counter gave me a pathetic look. One of those ‘poor you’ looks while still grimacing at my existence. Two baggers came and helped shove my things into the cart before quickly escorting me out of the grocery store. Helping me to my car and quickly getting my things into the trunk before taking my cart away from me.
Any other person might’ve suspected they were trying to help me get out of there quicker.
But in reality, I knew why they were doing that. It was because they didn’t want me in their store.
