The Amendment (The Contract 2)

He shrugged. “I’ve worked on larger.”

I snapped. “Then go back to Calgary and work there.”

He narrowed his eyes. “You think you’re so great?”

That made me snicker. “I’m better than you, kid.”

“You think so.”

I indicated the awards on my shelves. “A lot of people think so. Including Graham. Show some respect.”

“You show me some.”

I was on my feet, yelling again. “I will when you do something to deserve it!”

“He was out of line telling me what to do.”

I threw my hands in the air. “You were out of line!” I shouted. “This is his product—his baby—and you tell him we know it better? You’re a moron!”

“Well, you’re an asshole!”

My door opened, and Graham strode in, upset.

“I can hear the two of you all the way to the elevator. What the hell is going on?”

“Why don’t you tell him, Brad?” I sat down, done with him. “Explain this to Uncle Gray.”

Brad lifted one shoulder in a dismissive gesture. “A client didn’t like what I had to say.”

I couldn’t stop the growl. “Because you talked down to him. You belittled a client!”

Brad opened his mouth to speak, but Graham raised his hand. “I already had a call from Marcus Whitby. A very unhappy one. He told me to straighten out my staff and to call him when it happened and he might take the call. Or he might not.” Graham rubbed his eyes, and I noticed how tired he looked. “I should have known you had your hand in this, Brad.”

Brad shuffled his feet. “His idea was totally without merit.”

“That’s why he wanted to hire us,” Graham stated patiently. “To take his terrible ideas and turn them into gold.” He perched on the edge of my desk and rolled his shoulders. I studied him, suddenly seeing the tension he was hiding. It was in the set of his shoulders and the lines around his eyes that I hadn’t noticed until this moment. “Many of our clients come in here and want to share their thoughts. The campaigns we work on are for their companies—often, their lifelines. Their blood, sweat, and tears. We have to listen to them in order to understand what they want. Do we ever use their ideas? Rarely. However, they like knowing we heard them. It’s part of the job and, sadly, one you seem to keep forgetting.”

Graham stood. “Go to your office and cool off, Brad. I need you to really think if you want this.”

“I do, Graham. I want to learn and to be here.”

Graham held up his hand. “I need some time with Richard. I’ll be along to see you later. Give us the room, please.”

If Graham Gavin requested the room, nobody argued. Not even Brad. He left, closing the door behind him with a quiet click. Graham sat down heavily and shut his eyes. I waited, letting him gather his thoughts.

“Was this a mistake?” he asked.

I drew in a deep breath. I knew if I said yes, Brad was gone—family or not. Except somehow, I couldn’t find it in me to do that to him.

“He is a pain in the ass.”

“More than I expected.” He cracked open one eye. “Even more trouble than you were.”

I chuckled. “He is full of himself.” I pushed a file toward him. “Still, when he grasps the idea and buckles down, he is good.”

Graham opened the file and studied it. “This is good. How much did you have to do with it?”

“I suggested some, ah, trims. He came up with the slogan and the main concept. He goes over the top, but once he hits the sweet spot, honestly, Graham, he is good.”

Graham glanced up, and I winked. “Not as good as me, but he’ll do.”

Graham rolled his eyes and tossed the file on my desk. “What should I do?”

“Chain him,” I suggested.

“In the basement?” he asked dryly, lifting one eyebrow.

I laughed. “No, in the office. He needs to start at the bottom. He should work with Adam and Jenna. Learn what everyone does and their style. He needs to do some grunt work before we let him loose on clients again.”

Graham stroked his chin. “Good idea. I thought he was ready. I’m thinking the company he was with let him run amok.”

“I agree.” I sucked in a deep breath and said what was on my mind. “I think his talent is in design. The drawings and ideas he renders are unbelievable. He expresses them much better with his hands than speaking them. Maybe his place is behind the scenes and not in front of clients.”

“He’ll hate that.”

I shrugged. “Maybe not. He could oversee the entire department. Be involved in the campaigns but not the pitches.”

He nodded in silence, seemingly lost in thought. “I’ll talk to him.”

“Are you all right, Graham? You look exhausted.”

He sighed. “I am.”

“Are you unwell?”

“No, but I think I need a break. A little downtime. I had planned on a few weeks off, but with everything going on with Brad, it seems the wrong time to take time away.”