by Kelli Walker
I made people uncomfortable.
With tears rolling down my cheeks, I made my way home. The flood of reporters rushed my car before I turned into the driveway, then they backed off. The two police officers were still there making sure things didn’t get out of hand and I closed my eyes. Sat back in my chair. Allowed myself a moment to collect myself.
To digest my reality.
To cry.
My heart hurt. My soul ached. I was angry, deep within the marrow of my bones. A toxic anger that spread like wildfire and made me want to lash out. I went from being this small young woman no one knew about who had ambitions of opening her own business to being a loose, whoreish secretary who sucked her boss’s murderous cock for Christmas bonuses.
“Fuck,” I said with a whisper.
I wiped at the tears on my face and began grabbing everything out of the car. I carried every single plastic bag into the house at once so I wouldn’t have to face the firing squad again. My arms were burning and the plastic was cutting into my skin. Parts of my arms had been pinched and were bruised and bleeding, but I didn’t care. Having everything come in at once meant I didn’t have to go back outside. I could lock my car from the window, cook Mom and I some dinner, and try to help her forget about the accusations and the judgment looming outside.
“How’re you feeling, Mom?”
“Much better after that heating pad,” she said as she walked into the kitchen. “Something smells good.”
“Tacos,” I said with a smile. “One or two?”
“Two. And a bottle of water.”
“Coming right up,” I said.
Then, the words I’d wanted to say to my mother since I returned home flew from my lips.
“I’m sorry.”
“For what?” my mother asked.
I set the table for us to eat the tacos I’d prepared for us.
“For shaming the family like I have.”
“You’ve done nothing wrong, Tiff.”
“Then you’re probably the only person that thinks I haven’t,” I said.
“I have to admit, being that cozy with your boss probably wasn’t the wisest decision, but I’ve always been a sucker for my child’s own happiness.”
“What do you mean?”
“The pictures, sweetheart. If you remove all of the media-advertised layers from it, you actually look happy in the pictures.”
“I do?” I asked.
“Have you not seen them?”
“Of course I’ve seen them. And seeing them makes me angry. Someone followed us. Took pictures of us. Spun an innocent afternoon into this torrid, secretive love affair.”
“Is that what it is?” she asked.
My eyes whipped up to my mother before I opened my bottle of water.
“No matter what happened in the past, the truth of the matter is I can’t be around the man responsible for what happened to Dad.”
“You don’t technically know he’s responsible,” my mother said.
“Mr. Weber was in charge of all Instatech’s departments when he was there. And all of this occurred during his time there. So yes, whether he wants to be or not, he’s guilty at least by association.”
“So does that mean I’ve had a torrid love affair with Mr. Weber as well?”
“What?” I asked.
“Guilty by association. If I’m associated to you and you’ve engaged in something with your boss, then am I guilty of the same thing?”
“Okay, one? Not the same thing. Not even close. Mr. Weber controlled all of the dynamics of every company he ever flipped, Instatech included. Him not knowing this was going on, at the very least, makes him look incompetent.”
“So you know he didn’t know about this?”
“What?”
“You said he didn’t know all of this was going on with your father while he was there,” she said.
“You really need to clarify your position on this. First you didn’t want me doing the interview. Then, you warned me to be careful under his employ. Now, it sounds like you’re some sort of champion for him.”
“One, I didn’t want you doing that interview because I thought you were better qualified for any other position. But once you explained to me how it would set you up better to achieve the goals I know you’ve always had, I understood. Two, I warned you to be careful because he’s a powerful man. Not because of his association with anything regarding where your father used to work. You’re a beautiful girl, Tiff. I didn’t want you getting taken advantage of. And third, I’m not his champion. But you’ve always had a good head on your shoulders. Every once in a while, however, you slip. You allow your emotions to guide you a little too much.”
“And you think I’m doing that now,” I said.
“A bit.”
“Well, this situation is a little overly-emotional. I think I’m afforded to spin my wheels for a second.”
“Here’s where I stand on Kenneth Weber. I’m wary of him. But I’m wary of most people. He’s got money. He’s got prestige. He’s got a friend he hangs out with that’s the absolute definition of an asshole.”
“Mom,” I said with a grin, “I didn’t know you were such a connoisseur on Mr. Weber’s life.”
“I enjoy the pop culture channel every now and again. And I’m a sucker for a pair of nice eyes.”
“Mom!”
“The point is, not everything is always as it seems. I can question his character and I can withhold my trust. What I can’t question, however, is the look on your face in one of those pictures.”
“Which one?” I asked.
“The one of the two of you in a store? It’s the one where you’ve got your head thrown back, like you’re laughing. And it’s the way he’s looking at you.”
“What do you mean?”
“The only way I can describe it is that it reminds me of the way your father used to look at me.”
“Now you’re being idiotic.”
“I’m your mother. You better watch what you call me.”
“All I’m saying is-.”
“Tiff, I love you. And we’re in a very volatile situation. I’m hurting, you’re hurting. No mother ever prepares her daughter for something like this because no mother ever goes through it. All I’m telling you is to keep an open mind and pull from that strength I know you get from your father.”
“You’re strong, Mom. I get that from you,” I said.
“I’m strong, but your father had strength. There’s a difference. And you need that strength now. Don’t go into any of this and start drawing conclusions and slinging judgment without evidence. It makes you no better than those reporters,” she said.
I took a bite of my taco and let my mother's words sink in. She was right. I’d allowed my emotions to guide me for a while, and now it was time to reel them back in. I’d unloaded on Kenneth. I told him how I felt. Then I hopped the first flight I could find and came home. Now that I was back on familiar ground, I needed to rein everything back in and proceed as normally as I could.
No matter what the media called me. Or him. Or us.
“How did that heating pad feel on your back?” I asked.
“Good enough to get me to rest,” my mother said.
“Is anything else hurting? Your hip? Your arm?”
“It wasn’t a bad fall.”
“You fell, Mom. That’s how you injured your back permanently at work. I’m asking only to make sure I shouldn’t be keeping my eye on something.”
“I’m a grown woman, Tiff. If there’s anything that needs to be watched, I’ll watch it.”
“Says the woman who doesn’t take her pain medication until she has to take three to get it under control,” I said.
“I don’t like taking pills unless I can’t function. You know this.”
“Which is fine. Until you accidentally overdose one day because you need the pain to go away and it won’t.”
My mother and I always disagreed on that topic. Her medication was supposed to b
e taken routinely every morning and evening. But my mother thought she didn’t need to take it until her back was unbearable. Which usually meant she either ended up on the floor or pulled over on the side of the road before I could convince her to take a couple.
It was the main reason why I didn’t move out and get a place of my own after graduating.
“Do you want another taco?” I asked.
“I can get it if I want another,” she said.
“I figured I’d offer since I was getting up.”
“Tiff! Look out!”
I whipped my head up and saw a man peering through the window. He smiled at us before his camera came up and he started snapping pictures. Click after click after click flooded the kitchen as I set my plate down and grabbed my mother’s arm. I escorted her into the living room, then proceeded to shut all the blinds in the damn house. Room after room, closing every single one of them until not an inch of light could seep into the house.
Relegated to lamps and overhead fans.
Devoid of the sun on our skin.
I heard the blast of a police siren before blue and red lights began flashing dully through the curtains. The officer was yelling and footprints were scurrying over the concrete of our driveway. My mother was shaking and I was irate. Who the fuck did these people think they were?
Then, my phone began to ring out.
“Hold on, Mom. I’ll be right back.”
I dug my phone out of my purse and looked at the screen. I wanted it to be Paige. Someone I could talk to. Maybe I could convince her to come over with an ice cream cake the three of us could simply take forks to. But it wasn’t Paige. It wasn’t anyone I wanted to talk with.
It was Kenneth.
My finger hovered over the green call button before quickly tapping down on the red one. I wasn’t in the mood to talk with him. I didn't want to hear his voice or listen to his words or grit my teeth through some vain attempt at his apology. He was used to this kind of thing. The paparazzi wanting pictures of him and people wanting comments on his latest projects. He had the money to be barricaded in his home during times of scandal because he could afford every luxury. Every amenity to make him as comfortable as possible. Pools. Hot tubs. Personal masseuses. Grocery delivery. Alcohol delivery. Movie streaming on some projector that probably covered an entire fucking wall of his home.
But my mother and I?
We were stuck.
Trapped in the darkness of my childhood home with nothing but a television, some furniture, and showers permanently stained with soap scum not even bleach could fucking scrub off.
Hell, something like this was probably a vacation for someone like Kenneth. Working from home. Taking important phone calls in nothing but his damn boxers with a glass of scotch in his hand.
But not for us.
Not for me and my mother.
For us, this was a living nightmare.
For us, this was Hell.
And the worst possible thing that could’ve ever happened to our family was being paraded around and picked apart on every news channel for the public’s entertainment.
No, I didn’t want to talk to Kenneth.
But that didn’t stop me from seeing the accuracy of my mother’s statements.
“I hate it when you’re right, Mom!” I shouted from the bedroom.
“Guess you and your father have more in common than I thought!” she yelled back. “Now come sit next to me. Dirty Dancing is on and you know I love the way Patrick Swayze moves!”
And I wasn’t going to deny my mother the simple pleasure of watching a movie with her daughter. Even if life was falling to pieces right outside our front door.
Kenneth
The last day of the business trip didn’t go as terribly as I thought it would. It was the only client that didn’t back out of meeting with me and they were more than willing to negotiate the contract. We came to terms fairly quickly and it made me nervous, so I took the time to scan the document. Making sure there was nothing in there that could catch me off-guard with everything swirling about Tiffany and I in the news.
But when I didn’t see anything out of place, I signed the contract and shook the man’s hand.
Even with the blow to my image, I still managed to secure decent long-term inventory as well as take on another paying client. And I was going to need those contracts in place for the bump ride ahead. Taking this back to the board of investors would help them to see that, even in the worst of circumstances, I could keep this fucking company on its feet. I could keep it afloat and profiting despite what the news was saying.
That shit said a lot about a businessman, and I hoped it would sway my board in my direction.
But the second my cell phone rang as I got in the car, something told me it wouldn’t be good.
“Kenneth Weber.”
“Mr. Weber, it’s Ryan Lockhart.”
Why the fuck was the company’s lawyer calling me?
“Mr. Lockhart, I don’t believe we’ve had a chance to meet yet. How can I help you?” I asked.
“I know I’m not part of your public relations department, but I do have my hands in everything that goes on in Casual Recreations. This story about you and your secretary is on it’s third news cycle, and it’s doing damage to the company’s reputation.”
“I’m aware of that. And I can assure you I have everyone in P.R. working overtime and being paid accordingly to battle this story,” I said. “I’ve made it point to stay away from news updates and the television for the last three days so I don’t breathe down my department’s back to get this fixed.”
“Then you really should turn on the news. It’s worse than that, Mr. Weber. I’ve been told to inform you that a couple of the investors on your board have proposed an injunction removing you from your seat at CEO until the fire settles.”
“What?” I asked.
“You’re new. A lot of the company still had yet to meet you. They have no idea what you’re capable of doing under pressure and they’re panicking. C.R.’s stocks are taking a hit and many of them have been knocking on my door all day to ask what they can legally do about the matter. I had to inform them of their rights as investors.”
“No, no, no. I get it. I’m not upset with you. I just-”
Fuck. This was bad.
“Are you representing the investors in something?” I asked.
“They haven't filed any paperwork yet, so I’m not technically representing them, no.”
“Then you’re my representation.”
“You want to file something against your board?” he asked.
“No. I want you to look into Instatech for me.”
“I’m going to need a reason.”
“There’s something about this story that doesn’t add up. It doesn’t sit right with me, and it’s been nagging at me for days. Now, I took a call from Roman Edwards and he sent me over a lot of information on what was happening during this thing with Herald Graves while I was there.”
“Do you want me to take a look through it?” he asked.
“I do. I had no idea what was going on with Mr. Graves while I was at Instatech, which makes Mr. Edwards in breach of the contract he signed for me.”
“There’s the legal side of it. Yes, I can look into whatever you want me to if you believe he’s in breach of that contract. But I’ll need the contract in front of me.”
“I’ll send it over to you along with the information he passed along to me. When I was flipping companies, Mr. Lockhart, I made it a point to have my hands in everything.”
“It would make sense, sure.”
“So me not knowing about something as grand as this meant someone actively tried to hide it from me. I want to know why. I was in every part of that company for months. I even sat my happy ass in Human Resources for days on end helping them with their procedures. When you’re digging, talk to Mr. Lochter. He worked in Instatech’s Human Resources department when I was there helping Mr. Edwards.”
“That was going to be my first question, if you wanted me to talk to him. But I have to approach this as a breach of contract case. Which means the questions I’ll be asking-- until otherwise shown-- will pertain to whether or not he feels Mr. Edwards voluntarily hid this from you. I can’t ask him why, because it already assumes guilt.”
“Do whatever you have to do,” I said. “That’s your job and I trust you. You’ve been with Casual Recreations a very long time and you have a spotless record within the company.”
“Thank you, sir. That means a great deal coming from you.”
“Don’t thank me too quickly. Because if anything seedy’s going on, you’ll be thrust into the middle of a media firestorm until it’s settled.”
“If there’s wrongdoing, then the firestorm is par for the course,” he said. “But, I do need you to consider stepping down for the short-term sake of the company.”
“And why is that?” I asked.
“The board needs a majority vote to file the injunction. But if they do get it and they remove you forcefully, then you’ll also need the majority vote to resume your position. If you step down voluntarily-”
“Then I can come back voluntarily.”
“Exactly. Just think about it. I can’t tell you who, but I can tell you three of the seventeen board members have already approached me.”
“I would never expect you to give me names,” I said. “Thank you for your legal counsel.”
“Always, Mr. Weber. I’ll get started on this case, and when I have something you’ll be the first phone call I make.”
“I appreciate it.”
I hung up the phone call and threw my phone across the town car. It slammed against the wall and fell to the floor, clattering until it stopped. The screen was shattered and some of the paint had come off, but I didn’t give a shit. An injunction to unseat me? Those asshole didn’t even know who the hell I was. They had no idea the progress I’d made in Switzerland despite half the damn meetings backing out! I’d still put this company in a much better position than it was in to begin with, and I had the press dissecting my entire life on the front section of every fucking news channel.
But it didn’t matter. I was due to my private jet within the hour so I could fly the fuck home and deal with this shit head-on.
