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“Yes, I can.” While he is answering robotically, I can see how bad his hands are shaking. How they are starting to sweat. He busies himself was sending that email, attaching the various files. Within seconds, pings from each of the different phones in various places on the partners or on the table, go off.
I watch them all take a moment to read what he sent them. “This is all very well and good. Thorough enough,” announces Ashton, “But not good enough to substantiate the severity of these claims. Do you have anything else you can show us, Tommy? Audio or video? Anything like that?”
Tommy clears his throat. “I have audio and video,” he says. I watch him as he keys into another series of programs and begins to play set audio files. They cover a variety of things: of Vanacore essentially bribing and/or threatening to increase or decrease Tommy’s pay based on how well he performs and how willing he is to do certain “jobs” — very clearly of a sexual nature; still other soundbites capture requests for sexual acts and all related noises.
The partners, Charlotte, and Reese listen to all of this, visibly disturbed by it. But they are determined to take notes, to listen to it in full, getting a clear picture of just the kind of woman Vanacore really is behind closed doors — the closed doors of their company specifically. Something that’s already having a bit of an image crisis and doesn’t need this apocalypse.
At the end of all that, Ashton expresses his thanks.
Jake, looking white with anger and disgust, something I’ve never seen before on a face that’s usually full of happiness and warmth, says, “Thank you, Tommy. Send us copies of that as well, if you would. For our records.”
“Sure.” Tommy messes with his phone, loading soundbites onto emails and sending them. Again, the office erupts in a cacophony of notification bells and chimes, as each item comes into the inbox of the assembled group.
“I would normally ask you to defend yourself,” Kane says to Vanacore, “I would normally ask you what you have to add to any of this, or if you are going to offer any kind of alternative explanation to why they would be saying this about you, but I’m not going to in this case. The evidence speaks for itself. And for you.”
Vanacore bolts up out of her chair, practically foaming at the mouth. She levels an angry finger at Tommy, then at me. “They’re in on this together! They’re dating! A fact I’m quite sure you didn’t know, and that they didn’t bother to tell you! Exactly so they could get me on all of this stuff! Try to destroy my reputation! A reputation I’ve been building carefully for the last thirty years!” She leans in Tommy’s direction, and I see him go a little pale, but he quickly covers that up with a stern, straightforward stare. “He has a video! Of him enjoying what he was doing to me! That little brat is kinky! He wanted to post it on the Internet and all of that!”
Ashton jumps in, also taking a stand. While his voice is calm, his eyes are not. He looks like a lion in a suit — one you won’t want to mess with, even if you are the devil himself. “I don’t care. It’s already been made quite clear to us, by what we were able to unearth from your office, from other people we talked to who were involved with you in Missouri, that you have been at this for as many years as you’ve been in this business.”
Tommy nods triumphantly.
Ashton continues, “In addition to all of that, it was already made clear to us that Tommy was doing this for the good of us. For our company. For our reputations, so I’d say he very much got the upper hand on you.”
“Which means,” adds Jake, standing as well. “That you have no ground to stand on. Not with McKenzie Tech, Vanacore.”
Vanacore gets even more rabid. She actually grinds her teeth to the point of all of us being able to hear it. “That’s of no consequence! I already have plans to level a countersuit against those two! Against you all, and in fact!” She slams her hands down on the table. “For damages and suffering!” She smiles a little crazily here as if she’s about to feed on someone’s flesh or blood. “And with your rival law firm!” She finishes pointing at Jake.
“Whatever, man,” says Ashton, in a rare moment of informality. “Whatever countersuit you think you’re going to bring, bring it. You’re fired, anyway.”
I fight as hard as I can to not start celebrating right then and there. This probably goes for most everyone else at the table, too. But they all, including me, managed to keep their masks on.
