This, from a guy who’s wearing a faded Green Day T-shirt and hasn’t had a haircut in three months.
“I forgot to schedule the laundry service.”
That’s not strictly true, but no way am I telling him the real story. I’d never hear the end of it.
I grab a bottle of water from the minibar and take my usual seat near the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the sprawling Triada campus.
Beck slides a takeout container toward me, brows furrowed. “Doesn’t Lucy manage your laundry service?”
“She did.” My eye twitches as I remove the lid from my dinner. “Right up until she quit.”
Beck freezes, fork halfway to his mouth. “Lucy quit? I didn’t think she had it in her.”
“That makes two of us.”
The scent of garlic and roasted chicken fills the air, but the aroma of comfort food does little to improve my mood.
“Let me get this straight,” Nick says, taking his usual seat at the head of the table and helping himself to the last takeout container. “Your assistant quit, and you haven’t hired a replacement?”
The irony of the question isn’t lost on me. Nick burns through assistants like fossil fuel, none of them lasting more than a few weeks. Don’t get me wrong, I love my brother, but I sure as hell wouldn’t want to work for him.
“I tried someone from the temp pool. It wasn’t a good fit.” I shudder, remembering the sludge-like coffee and the way she’d popped her head into my office every five minutes with questions. So many questions. “It was more trouble than it was worth.”
The instant the words are out of my mouth, I realize my mistake.
“You’re in charge of human resources.” Nick snorts, his face a mask of disbelief. “It didn’t occur to you to have Lucy train her replacement before she left?”
Not even once.
But I know better than to say that aloud.
Details have never been my strong suit. I’m a people person, which is why, in addition to sharing CEO duties, I serve as Triada’s Chief Operations Officer, responsible for sales, marketing, and human resources, while Beck—the quintessential computer geek—serves as Chief Technology Officer, and Nick, with his cool demeanor and perfectionist’s attention to detail, shoulders the role of Chief Financial Officer.
“I thought she was bluffing.” After all, how many times had she joked about quitting? About moving on and leaving me to fend for myself. It was just her way of getting my attention when my mind wandered. The threats were always delivered with a smile and a teasing lilt. “I didn’t think she’d really go through with it.”
Not until she’d started packing up her stuff last Friday.
And when she’d handed over her badge at the end of the day? That was when the panic had set in.
“Joke’s on you,” Beck says, shaking with laughter.
“No shit.”
I push the takeout container aside and lean back in my chair.
How could I have possibly missed the signs?
Lucy loved her job. She told me as much. And, while it might make me an asshole for saying it, I thought she enjoyed working with me. She was always bright and cheerful, happy to take on new tasks and last-minute assignments without complaint.
Most important of all, she was smart. Motivated. Always finding new efficiencies and ways to make my life run like a well-oiled machine.
Hell, she thrived on it.
“You need to get this figured out,” Nick says, spearing a piece of chicken with his fork. “We’ve got too much going on for you to be parading around in yesterday’s clothes, missing appointments, and showing up late for meetings.”
He’s right. I know he’s right. Nick’s got his hands full dealing with the board. Beck’s up to his ass in R&D, testing a next-level payment system based on facial recognition. And I just wasted two months on an advertising campaign that went up in flames over some paparazzi photos and a bottle of Cristal.
As if reading my mind, Nick asks, “Any movement on the endorsement deal?”
