“Hi, I’m Nerida,” she said to Zarley, and to Reid, “If you really want to do this, come with me now and remember what I said about a reference.”
He caught Zarley watching him. “Save dessert for me.” He got up and followed Nerida.
Halfway to the stage Owen nabbed his arm. “What are you doing?”
“I’m not going to embarrass you. I’m having a say about the company I founded on the occasion of its tenth anniversary.”
“Not a good idea.”
“You’re causing a scene.”
Owen threw his arm over Reid’s shoulder. “Nothing to look at here, just two old friends shooting the breeze.” He faked a laugh. He was a terrible faker. “Don’t do it, man.”
Reid brushed Owen’s arm away. Kuch tried to catch his eye, Sarina stood in the middle of the room and walked toward him. He went to the stage and stood behind the podium and no one could stop him.
He looked out at five hundred or more faces turned expectantly at him.
“Hi, I hope you’re all enjoying yourselves. In case we haven’t met, I’m Reid McGrath. I used to run this show.” He had to stop to let a quick round of applause die down. There wasn’t anyone in the room who didn’t know he was no longer a Plus employee. The official lie was that he was exploring new opportunities; the sacked for being impossible to work for interpretation was far more intriguing.
“Thank you. I founded Plus in the wilds of my dorm room, ten years ago, where I met Owen, Sarina, and Dev. It seems like yesterday we thought a pizza with extra garlic bread delivered was the best thing ever. Later I convinced Kuch to lend a scrappy start-up his good name which makes me the first little shit—”
“Not so little,” someone heckled.
He paused for the laughter, “To pull the wool over the great Kuch’s eyes. He’s been slipping for years, I tell you, years.”
A second burst of laughter allowed him to take a breath. So far he hadn’t offended anyone and Kuch was so well respected it would only enhance his image to have it showcased tonight. He told another joke about their early days and current Plus employees roared their approval with considerable catcalling.
Feeling confident, he searched for Zarley’s face in the crowd and found it. She knew she had his eyes. She blew him a kiss. Then he lit the fuse. He told everyone how important continued innovation was, how the market was intensely competitive, how project Ziggurat was designed to address the rapid changes in technology and would protect Plus’ revenues and make sure it continued to be a great place to work.
And then he said the one thing he’d come to say that would make an impact. “Success is as much about ideas as it is about execution. What gives me nightmares is that you might fail to implement Z
iggurat as well as you’re going to need to.”
There was a subtle shift in the attention of the room, a rustle of clothing as people moved about. He laughed into the microphone. “I’m probably being a little shit again and worrying needlessly you’ve all got it under control. I look forward to watching Owen and the team prove my fears are groundless.” There was some nervous laughter, then he thanked people for their time and attention and wished them a goodnight to another round of clapping.
But it wasn’t as simple as that. He passed Owen on the stairs to the podium. Owen looked at him like someone had died. He’d expected a headlock or foul language at least.
He’d turned an unnecessary spotlight on Owen’s leadership and Plus’ strategy, ensured the share price wobbled, and made sure every investor in the room was questioning why he wasn’t still in control.
He was fighting for what he knew was right the best way he knew how. He was getting his job back.
But he didn’t expect what Dev did.
Dev was waiting for him at the side of the stage. “Do you understand what you’ve done?” Reid wanted to listen to Owen. Knew he’d alter whatever he was going to say to respond to the challenge Reid’d laid down.
Dev stepped in front of him. “You don’t need to listen to Owen. It doesn’t matter what he says. He can’t win after what you did. You’re the moral authority in this room. Everyone will take what you say as the truth. You just killed our chances of getting Ziggy up and running without the most intense scrutiny. But that’s not what matters. It’s what you did to yourself.”
He looked over Dev’s head at the stage. “I’m getting back in, Dev. We’ll run it all together again.”
“No, that’s not how it’s going to go. You just proved me wrong.”
Owen was doing a roll call of thanks. “About what?”
“I argued with Owen, with Kuch, with anyone who’d listen that it was wrong to push you out, that you could change, you could learn to respect other people and listen to them, make more collaborative decisions. Use your genius for good.”
He forgot Owen and focused on Dev. “You didn’t tell me that.”
“What was the point. I lost, no one believed me. And now you did this. You proved you can’t change, that you’re a bully, a superior, disrespectful dickhead. I’ve been your friend since college. I’ve cooked you thousands of meals. I’ve stood beside you and behind you and I’ve loved it all.” Dev broke eye contact and looked at his tennis shoes. “I loved you, shit that you are. My life was better because you were in it.”