I stopped but didn’t turn. She came to me. “I’m sorry. That was unfair. You were there for me. You helped me a great deal. What do you need from me?”
I thought I’d been clear about that but apparently not. I shook my head. “Nothing.” I tried to smile so she didn’t think I was being a martyr again. “You’re right. I’ve got this.”
Then I left her office, hurrying to my desk and hoping she didn’t follow me. Fortunately, I heard her phone ring and her picking it up. Saved by the bell.
I got to my desk and searched for work I was still assigned to do. I was pulling up the mayor’s calendar when his door opened. He looked toward my desk, and when he saw me, he came striding toward me.
Mayor Maurice “Mo” Valentine was a diplomatic, even-keeled man, but the anger in his eyes suggested he wasn’t feeling very calm at the moment. The fact that his anger was directed toward me meant only one thing; Brooke had tattled.
“What is your problem with Ms. Campbell?” he demanded, leaning over my desk.
“My problem is that she’s doing my job. I don’t appreciate having my duties reassigned without consulting me.”
“I don’t need your permission to assign jobs. I’m the fucking mayor.”
I flinched at the venom in his tone.
“I know your friend will likely be mayor after me, but right now, I have the authority to delegate tasks as I see fit. I also have the right to be pissed that one of my staff is creating a hostile workplace for other staff.”
I could feel tears coming but I bit them back. “Of course you can reassign work. But I’d appreciate knowing when you do it; otherwise, you’re paying two people to do the same work. The taxpayers probably wouldn’t like that.”
His nostrils flared in anger, and I was sure he was going to fire me right then and there.
Since I’d gone this far, I thought I’d finish my thought. “All I’m asking for is the respect to be told when you give a job I have dutifully and skillfully done for you over the last several years.” It hurt me that I had to ask him to recognize the work I’d done or to at least have the respect to give me a heads up. “If you want to give your girlfriend my job, just do it, because this…how you’re secretly handing it over to her, is insulting.” I wondered how long it would be before I found a new job. Surely there was something out there besides working for Stark. Then again, maybe no one would want me. I doubted the mayor was going to give me a rave recommendation.
He straightened and for a moment seemed to think about what I’d said. “I apologize for not being more transparent in the reassigning of tasks. That isn’t a reflection on the quality of your work. But your attitude needs a great deal of work, Ms. Lados. If you have a problem, come to me.”
I bit my tongue to say I had tried to talk to him and Sinclair, both of whom discounted or dismissed my efforts.
“Next time I hear about your mistreatment of anyone here, I’ll take corrective action.”
“Yes, sir.”
He stared at me one last moment and then stormed back to his office.
I blew out a breath and sagged into my chair. The mayor hated me. Sinclair was mad at me. Ryder didn’t care about me. God, even I wasn’t sure I liked me. My life right now was one big pity party. The problem was, I seemed to have dug myself into a hole that I couldn’t get out of on my own, and I didn’t have anyone to help me out.
23
Ryder
I had a reputation of being a person who took the easy road. It was a valid descriptor of me. Not that I was lazy or avoided hard work. I didn’t mind work if it was something I enjoyed. I liked music and running the restaurant. And then there was Trina, who wasn’t an easy woman to get along with, but I definitely liked the challenge of her. But overall, if I wasn’t into something, I tended to avoid it, like house maintenance.
As I got to work on fixing up the house, my interest in creating a nice home grew. I wanted a safe place for my child and a comfortable home for Trina, if she’d ever give me another chance. One thing that became clear as Wyatt helped me with the porch was that I needed to hire help to make sure the structure was sound. That required money. So did securing a more stable financial future, once M
r. Coffey confirmed that Stark had made inquiries about buying Salvation Station.
When I went through my financial statements, I discovered that I was fine for a bachelor, but if I wanted a family, I needed to do more. I considered my options, such as asking my parents for help in investing in the restaurant, but they were nearing retirement.
My only option was to swallow my pride and accept Stark’s offer to play for him. I even twisted my reason up into a pretzel arguing that I’d be taking his money to thwart his effort to buy the Salvation Station. I also figured since most townsfolk didn’t like him, no one I knew or cared about would be there anyway, so no one would know.
Before I agreed to the gig, I started putting my ducks in order. I upped the price to thirty grand, asking for half up front, which he agreed to. I wasn’t sure how Stark stayed rich, as he accepted my demand without any negotiating. Then I went to a lawyer and asked her to draw up a contract regarding the Salvation Station. As soon as I had my money, I was going to make that place mine.
A few days later I showed up at Stark’s compound to play for a bunch of high society people. I liked music, but this gig would be my hardest, I was sure of it. I couldn’t get over the guilt that I was betraying not just Salvation but my own good sense as well.
The house used to belong to Carson Marchand, who’d built one of the first breweries in the state. That had since been relocated, but the large home remained. In fact, it had been vacant until Stark blew into town trying to take it over.
The home sat on some prime Nebraska farmland next to the river, but apparently Stark didn’t see any need to till the soil. Instead, a large tent was erected, with fancy lights hanging around it and caterers in white suits buzzed around.