Grumpy Boss, Hamel, B. [free novels to read TXT] 📗

“There has to be a way,” I said, and stood up, pacing to the windows. I tapped the glass and thought back to the way things used to be, back before we got rich, and things got confusing. “He wasn’t a bad guy back then, you know? He meant well. I think he cared about the company.”

“But he changed,” Millie said. “Now he’s trying to ruin you.”

“I know,” I said, and still I felt an odd sense of longing—for those old days before things to complicated, before I got rich. I didn’t miss being poor of course. When folks said money couldn’t buy happiness, they probably never had unlimited money. Maybe it couldn’t cure a depressed person, but comfort and stability was no small thing in the grand scheme, and money made my life so much easier. It was the same for him, and as soon as he got a taste of what it could be like, making so much, I think he got jealous and angry and thought he deserved more.

Maybe I could’ve done something. Maybe I could’ve given him a bonus, or maybe let him have a bigger cut of the profits, or something like that. Anything to how him that he mattered. Instead, I pushed back hard, and the rift between us grew until now he hated me with a passion, and I hated him in turn, and noting would fix it, no matter what.

“There have to be other people,” Millie said. “Maybe people that don’t live in the US, that want to invest?”

“That comes with its own problems,” Jack said, frowning a touch, but looked over at me as I turned. “It’s not a bad idea though. We know some Saudis that might be willing.”

“I’m going to call Desmond,” I said, shaking my head, and holding a hand up to forestall Jack’s response. “I want to talk to him. Even if we’re not going to become best friends again, and it probably won’t fix anything, I have to try.”

Millie looked more hurt than angry. She shook her head like I was making a horrible mistake. And maybe she was right—reaching out to Desmond wasn’t going to solve anything, and it might only make it worse.

I still had to try. We were on the brink of failing, and failure was not an option, not for me. I wanted Millie to make her money, hell, I wanted all my investors to get filthy rich, and it would be nice if I earned a little bit extra myself.

I left Jack’s office with Millie on my heels. She caught up with me in the halls, but didn’t say anything, only match my stride. I knew what she was thinking already, and didn’t have to say it out loud. I shut my office door and she turned to me, arms over her chest, as I walked over to my desk and sat.

“This is a bad idea,” she said.

“Convince me,” I said, gesturing for her to sit.

She hesitated, making a face like she’d rather do anything else, but she sat down, her back straight. She looked at me like I was a judge in a court room—and I saw the lawyer inside of her, struggling to get out. From all the time we’d spent together, I knew she’d make an exceptionally good lawyer, and that she was absolutely not going to fail if she put herself out there and took a chance. All she had to do was try—and maybe I could convince her to take that final step once all this was over.

“Think about how this plays out,” she said, holding a finger up in the air. “Most likely, he’s not going to do what you want. That’s true, right?”

I nodded slightly. “I’ll conceded that. It’s unlikely he’ll listen.”

“So if he won’t listen, then calling has a non-zero chance of making things worse, won’t it? Imagine if you lose your cool and you two start arguing, and he only doubles down. That’ll make this whole thing even more impossible.”

“True,” I said, nodding along. “You’re not wrong.”

“And even if he doesn’t do that, calling him shows that he’s winning. Even getting a taste of victory might make him fight even harder. For all we know, he’s about to give up on his own, without our help. Maybe calling might galvanize him into action all over again.”

“You’re not wrong,” I said, laughing, shaking my head. She was a damn smart girl, seeing, this issue from all sides and extrapolating the likely outcomes. I couldn’t argue with her, not really, but she didn’t see the one fact hat mattered above all else.

“So why do it then?” she asked. “If the chances are pretty good that this is going to backfire, why would you take the risk?”

“Because we used to be friends, and I wish we still were.” Once the words left my mouth, I knew they were true. I was fucked up, and a little pathetic, but I missed my friend.

She deflated and lowered her hand. She blinked at me, and her lips pulled down slightly, and I felt almost sick—the pity in her eyes was disgusting, and I hated myself for being that vulnerable. I had to look away from her before I saw just how weak I’d become.

“You really miss him?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” I said, hedging a little, afraid to truly open up.

“Come on, it’s okay if you do. I just didn’t really realize… from what you told me, I thought you two were just colleagues.”

“We were good friends,” I said, still not looking at her. I squeezed my eyes shut in an attempt to get some courage, but that didn’t help. I opened them again, and looked at the blue sky above the glittering glass buildings. “We’d work all day then spend most of the night together, drinking at the bars around town. Alvin would hang out, make jokes, we’d all get drunk and discuss what to do with