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“I have a confession.”
His head shoots up, and he stares at me, his bloodshot eyes pinning me. They grew dark while waiting for my admission.
“Fuck, please don’t tell me you did something.”
“I spoke to my attorney. I gave him a copy of Paul’s contract, and he went through it with his colleague. There is a loophole in Paul’s contract, and it’s wide open.”
“What is it?”
“You have a clause about gross insubordination to any executive or board member. If he commits one, he can be fired, and his intellectual property becomes ours. He won’t get a penny. But there is a caveat. Xander Wilder, my attorney, told me that he would probably sue. However, he won’t win.”
“But he hasn’t been insubordinate. Not to me or any other executive.”
I smile widely and take a long pull from my beer before I answer, “He so fucking has. He’s been a thorn in my side since I arrived, and Monday was just an example of his attitude towards me. Am I not an executive of the company? I’m an owner for fuck’s sake.”
Zane’s eyes grew wide. “And you have proof?”
“Only partial proof. Olivia and Henry heard part of the conversation. They were asked to leave, and it got worse from there.”
Zane shrugged. “He can say you baited him.”
“I did no such thing. I merely reprimanded him for his treatment of his coworkers. As an owner, I can do that. Xander suspects that you put the clause in there so that Paul wouldn’t overstep his bounds.”
“I don’t remember doing so, but my best guess is that Emily made the suggestion.”
“It’s your loophole,” I emphasize. “I also want to let you know that I’ve been creating contacts with some other programmers at Futile and Comix.”
Zane looks confused. “We can’t afford to hire any more programmers.”
“I’m willing to supplement their salary for one year. However, if you get rid of Paul, you can afford them. I saw the salary sheets, and he’s overpaid, which is probably why he thinks his worth is more than it is. The kid needs a wakeup call. One of the guys I interviewed from Futile said he knows Paul, and even he thinks he’s an asshole.”
“I need to mull this over before I agree to it.”
“At least let me bring in two new programmers. I have two more interviews set up with another guy from Futile and one from Comix next week. I’ll go over the interviews with you, and we can decide who will be the best fit. Think about it. They’re talented and smart. Paul is toxic, and he’ll poison the morale of the company. I know you don’t want that.”
When the waiter brings our food out, I lean back in my chair, finishing my beer and asking for another. Zane dives into his steak without answering me, so I leave the topic alone, and we eat in silence. At the end of our meal, he speaks up.
“We can try it your way. Get two new programmers into the company, put them under Olivia or Henry, and keep them away from Paul.”
“Xander told me to document every incident with Paul. If we go to court, we’ll have evidence. At least I have Olivia and Henry to back me up partially.”
By the time we leave the steakhouse, it was after 4:00 PM. Since I was in midtown, especially now that I felt better about everything, I wanted to see Olivia. I call the office and ask if she wants to meet after work. She tells me she needs to stay late again, and my blood begins to boil, but I keep my cool. I knew it was because of Paul.
Instead, I tell her I’ll wait for her while I finish a few things around Eltech. Before heading in, I stop to purchase a bouquet of tea roses in the same shade of pink that Olivia wore a few days ago. I didn’t know if she would like them, but Cassie loved tea roses.
I waited in the lobby until 5:15 PM when most of the workers in the building filtered down to go home. The office was almost deserted when I venture upstairs. The cleaning crew has begun to empty the garbage cans by the time I head down the hall and catch a glimpse of Olivia sitting at her desk, typing on her laptop. Her eyes are fixed on the screen, and she wasn’t paying attention to the door as I push it open and thrust the flowers through, then tap on the glass. She looks up, startled, before a broad smile blooms on her beautiful face.
“Are those for me?” she asks breathily.
“They pale in comparison to you.”
She nervously giggles, stands up to take them from me and plants a soft kiss on my stubbled cheek.
“You need a shave.”
“You don’t like stubble?”
“It makes you look dangerous. You just need a toothpick hanging out of your mouth, a pair of mirrored aviator sunglasses, and a fedora to complete the ensemble,” Olivia said with a sly smile.
