She hadn't asked him for his opinion, in fact. What she'd asked him for was some feedback on why the crews she'd specifically asked him to keep an eye on were a solid day behind.
And then it had all been a bunch of questions about the Callahan ranch.
"Well, thank you very much, Brad. Did you want to tell me what the hell is going on with crews three and four?"
"Some kinda problem. They say they can't dig."
"If that's the case, then why wasn't I notified?"
"What do I look like to you, some kinda idiot? We were taking care of it, so you didn't need to be called. Damn, girl."
Her shoulders were tight, and it took everything she could muster not to launch right across the desk and rip his throat right out.
"I'm in charge here, Mr. Lang. Don't forget that. You've got not one, but two crews being insubordinate, and you don't bother to contact me once?"
"You were busy," he says. He shrugs.
The son of a bitch keeps arguing like this and she's going to kill him.
"Too busy for a text? So you thought that meant you were in charge? You think you own this factory, you—"
"What the fuck is with you today? Hormones or something?"
She wants to slap him. She wants nothing more in this life than to slap the hell out of him. She bites down on the inside of her cheeks instead, tightens her toes inside her shoes.
"I'm going to talk to the crew chiefs of three and four. You're done for the day. See you tomorrow."
He shrugs again. "Whatever, boss. Y'want to overreact, I won't stop you."
"You're lucky I don't fire your ass, you insubordinate little piece of—"
He's already turned, already shrugging on his coat. He's got no interest in listening to her.
Something inside her says she ought to fire him. Nobody in the world would tell her that she'd been unreasonable to do it. That was some of the most insubordinate garbage she's ever heard come out of anyone's mouth.
Right to her face, no less. Right to her God damned face. And yet, a little voice reminded her. He was in good with the guys. She fired him, it would seem like a reflection on the guys that liked him.
She swallowed her anger. She'd have to ignore it as best she could, because there were bigger, more important concerns than whatever the fuck Brad Lang thought he could do. Bigger than his being a piece of shit.
Right now, she had to get out there on the grounds and find out why, specifically, they say they can't dig. Then she's got to figure out what to do about it, and she's got to do it in a hurry.
The factory's supposed to be up in two months, and running in four. Every day counts. Every day. And every time that Brad Lang lets a crew get behind, it's a big god damn mess to clean it up that only gets bigger as the timeline goes on.
Little inefficiencies like that cause big ripples. It might not seem like much now. It might seem like he can handle it.
He's not going to be the one standing there on the stage when someone asks her why they desecrated some burial grounds, and she has to look like a god damned fool because she doesn't have an answer for them.
He's not going to be the one who has to stand in front of the members of the board and explain why she thought it would be a good idea to create a public relations nightmare that could kill the company outright if they weren't careful.
So whatever the problem was, if she didn't have her hands on it, then she didn't want it solved. Because six months from now, a year from now, two years from now, the solution isn't going to fall down on Brad Lang's head.
It's going to fall down on hers. So she'd be
tter be god damn prepared to answer that question when it comes up, and the only way she can do that is if they keep her in the fucking loop.
She takes a deep breath. She shouldn't let herself get riled up like this.
But it's too late now. She straightens her back, pulls back her shoulders. It's past time for her to take back control of this god damn build site.