Boss of Me

“We do have to do it, and you’ll be glad once it’s done and the value of your shares goes through the roof.”

He exhales like I’m a petulant teen, not the CEO of this company. I wish he’d stick to playing golf and watching 24-hour news.

“Bill said Martin was on one of those gossip shows today. They’ve got pictures of him partying with Sissy Faith. On a Tuesday. Is he having issues again?”

“Sissy… the country singer?” I’d like to change my wish. Nothing is worse than my dad knowing more than I do about anything. “Tabloid gossip. Marley’s working PR angles, picking up endorsements, you know.”

He’s quiet, and I hope I’m in the right ballpark with that lie.

“I’d hold off on partnering too quickly with young talent. You never know when they’ll do something like twerk on national TV.”

I don’t even want to know where my aged father learned the word twerk. “Yeah, it was an idea, but I think you’re right.” Telling my father he’s right is the best way to get him to roll over and go back to sleep.

“I trust you’re keeping an eye on him, getting him help if he needs it.”

“Of course.” Another lie. Is Marley slipping? I need to find him.

“You boys did a good service to our country. Still, I can’t have him mucking up our reputation—”

“He’s not handling frontline business. I have him on social media and marketing.”

“Social media.” He grumbles, and I know I’m in for more bloviation. “Nothing beats good old-fashioned, face-to-face interaction.”

“Right.” I’m distracted by this new wrinkle in my day, and an awkward lull falls between us.

He clears his throat, lightening his tone. “It’s after nine. You shouldn’t work late every night, you’ll burn out.”

Like he didn’t work late every night of my life. Where does he think I learned it? At least I don’t have a wife and kid waiting for me at home. The thought pricks at my mind. I look at the envelope in the trash and think about ginger and coconut…

I don’t want that. My life is great as it is—except this Marley thing.

I’m ready to disconnect and track him down. “I was just finishing up when you called.”

“Are you smoking in my office again? Nasty habit.”

“Like anything could cut

through thirty years of scotch and cigars.”

“Cigars bring out the character in the wood. Cigarettes are just dirty.”

“Was that all you needed?” I’m at the end of my patience now.

“If you’re dead set on this expansion, lock down Hastings and Key. They’re good people. Good Americans.”

“Right.”

“And get a handle on Martin. You don’t need another situation with him.”

Those words coming from my father’s mouth make me furious.

“Night, Dad.” I disconnect quickly, before the conversation goes completely south.

Even when I agree with him, the way he states his views makes me question myself. I don’t have time for that tonight.

Holding the phone, I’m about to call Marley when a noise in the corridor makes me freeze in place. A bumping sound is followed by the sound of paper falling, more bumping, then a crash like a pen holder falling over on a desk.

I stride over and jerk open my door. “Who’s there?”