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“Anytime, Beckham. Keep me informed on that issue. Like I said, I’m sure it’s just a little mistake on Brontë’s part.”
He gives me a wink that for some reason leaves me a little unsettled and has me questioning for one tiny second if he, in fact, does know what the issue is and like Brontë alluded to, might expect me to just sweep it under the rug as his friend.
I’m about to give Jack, the CEO of Pierce, a call when I see a text from Venus.
Venus: I have my next ultrasound on Wednesday next week. 10am at East Side Women’s Health. You should be there.
I pinch the bridge of my nose, another tension headache threatening to take over. I lean back in my chair, keeping my eyes closed as I practice a few yoga breaths. I’m just starting to get into it when I hear a knock on my office door and Brontë steps inside.
“Hey, sorry to interrupt, but did you happen to speak with my father about the inconsistencies in the Pierce financial records?”
“I did,” I say, sitting up and straightening my tie.
“And?”
“And it’s nothing.” I see her countenance fall. “Before you start, I am going to call Jack and Bryan at Pierce and get their take on it. For all we know, it’s just a misunderstanding.”
“But it’s not a misunderstanding. It’s fraud. I’ve outlined that very clearly to you.”
“Brontë.” I try to calm my very frazzled nerves. “I said I’m going to call them.”
“These employees have worked hard and dedicated their lives to this company, and they’re being fucked over. This needs to be taken seriously.”
She’s clearly angry, frustrated too, and I let her just rant, hoping if she gets it out of her system, she’ll let me actually handle it like I said I would.
“Everyone thinks it’s just a simple mistake or misunderstanding on my part because I’m young and inexperienced but that’s bullshit. I have done the research and fact-checking. I’ve done the due diligence, and I can feel it in my gut that these reports aren’t right.” She shakes the papers in her right hand as she speaks.
“I said I’ll handle it, Brontë.” I keep my voice calm as she talks over me.
My temper is building, I can feel it. It’s not that I don’t believe her; in fact, I’m starting to really believe she’s the one who’s right in all this. I’m sure someone is lying but with the bomb dropped on me last night with Venus and the fact that either my best friend Jonas or the leadership at a company I’m possibly about to buy is lying to me has me about to fucking explode.
“Of course my dad is going to deny anything if he’s involved, or maybe, like I said before, he’s not the man you thi?—”
“Enough!” I shout, shooting up out of my chair and slamming both of my hands down on my desktop. “I said I’d fucking handle it, Brontë, so let me fucking handle it!” I spit the words out like they’re venom, my face probably red with anger by the look of shock on her face.
“Now, please,” I say calmly as I sit back down, the palms of my hands stinging. “Leave so that I can call Jack and Bryan.”
Without another word she spins on her heel and marches out of my office, slamming my door on the way out.
I know I need to calm down first, but I dial Jack’s number anyway and he answers on the second ring.
“Mr. Archer, to what do I owe the pleasure?” His joyful tone somehow puts me in an even shittier mood.
How dare this motherfucker try to pull one over on me, then act like everything is okay.
“Afraid it won’t be pleasurable, Jack.”
“Oh?”
“We’ve been going through your financials extensively and no matter which way we look at it, no matter the explanations we get from your accounting department, we cannot make these withdrawals from your employee investment accounts make sense.”
“Okaaay, interesting. This is the first I’m hearing of it. Walk me through it. What’s the issue?”
I explain in detail what Brontë has now explained to me several times.
“Oh, hmm, I’m sure it’s just a mis?—”
“Not a misunderstanding, Jack,” I cut him off, my tone clipped. “Don’t do me the disservice of insulting my intelligence or Brontë’s. Get with your accounting department and get your damn records sorted or this deal is off.”
