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“Could you round him up for me, please?”
“Sure, Mr. B.”
I squinted at her. “Josh.”
“I’m old fashioned, Mr. B.”
I wasn’t going to win this one, so I nodded before retreating to my office. “Thanks, Dee.”
Nicky. I’d have to decide if I liked that nickname for Nicole or not.
An almost teenage-looking guy arrived scarcely a minute later. “You wanted to see me?”
“Gary?”
“Yes, sir.”
I tried to keep my disappointment from showing. He’d likely only started shaving last year and was clearly not seasoned enough to step into the CFO role. Meeting him mid-room, we shook. “Josh will do.” Correcting them all on what to call me was going to be routine here, it seemed. “Nice to meet you, Gary. I need to know what our cash position is.”
He grimaced. “Before or after payroll?”
“After.”
“Twenty-three thousand in the bank.”
“And what else do we have?”
He shook his head. “That’s it.”
“Credit line?”
“It maxed out last week.”
I collapsed into my seat. “This place can’t run with that little.” A company this size running on fumes would collapse in a second if any of the suppliers found out the till was that empty.
His chest puffed up as if I’d awarded him a medal. “That’s what I’ve been saying.”
“To who? Saying to who?”
“My boss. Mrs. Quantell. But she—”
I stopped him. “She’s gone.”
His brows rose in disbelief. “Gone?”
She apparently hadn’t bothered to tell any of her staff—not a classy move.
“You fired her?”
“She quit.”
“What do we do now?”
This kid was certainly not cut out to run the finance operation.
I opened my bag and pulled out my checkbook. “I’ll get somebody to fill in. Until then, bring me anything important that you can’t handle. In the meantime…” I wrote a check to Tuscan Foods. “I want you to deposit this at the bank right now.” I signed the check, tore it out, and handed it over.
“Two million?” he asked with wide eyes.
