“You are not training him; you are belittling him,” I fire back.
“I’m teaching him to have some respect,” he replies calmly. “Something that he quite obviously hasn’t learned at home.”
“Why on earth would he respect a jerk like you?” I whisper angrily.
“Because I’m his boss, Claire, and I am not putting up with his excuses,” he replies.
“By calling him stupid,” I snap.
“I did not call him stupid. I told him to stop acting stupid. There’s a big difference. He’s intelligent, Claire, a lot more than you give him credit for. He doesn’t have anger issues; he has a fucking attitude issue, and I’m getting rid of it.”
“By making a fool of him?” I gasp.
“By making him learn from his mistakes. If he is not punished as he does them, he will keep doing it. You don’t learn a lesson unless it makes you uncomfortable.”
“You yelled at him for forgetting a pen, for Christ’s sake,” I stammer.
His face contorts in anger. “How many CEOs do you know that don’t take a pen to a meeting, Claire?” he sneers. “Rule number one.” He holds his finger up to accentuate his point. “Be prepared. Do not turn up to a meeting unprepared.”
The door opens, and Fletcher comes into view. He closes it behind him.
Tristan glares at him. “You run to Mommy when you get into trouble?” he asks.
Fletcher stares at him.
“You going to run to Mommy when someone steals your business or your girlfriend?” he asks. “Is that what a man does? Run to Mommy?”
“How dare you?” I whisper angrily. “Get your things, Fletcher; we’re leaving. You don’t have to put up with this.”
“Get back to your desk, Fletcher, and finish that report,” Tristan snaps.
Fletcher looks between us, unsure what to do.
“Fletcher Anderson,” Tristan asserts. His voice rises along with his anger. “That report is to be on my desk before you leave today. I don’t care if we don’t get out of here until midnight.”
“He’s coming with me,” I snap. “Stick your report up your ass.”
“Mom,” Fletcher interrupts. “Don’t.”
“Fletcher, let’s go,” I urge.
“Do you want to know why I’m riding this kid so hard, Claire?” Tristan asks.
I stare at him.
“Because Fletcher Anderson has more potential than I’ve seen in a very long time. He’s su
per intelligent.”
Fletcher’s chest rises as he fights a crooked smile.
“But he’s also a little shit, and he’s lazy and lacks discipline,” he adds.
I continue to stare at Tristan.
“I can give him the tools that he needs, but they don’t come easy. There are no shortcuts to this, Claire. I’m the only person who can give him the tool kit. So don’t you barge in here and ruin everything for him. You are killing this kid with kindness, Claire. He’s not a child. He’s a man. He needs to grow the fuck up and take responsibility for his own shortcomings.”
Fletcher drops his head.