Page 1 of He Falls First

Chapter 1

Hendrix

I’m as far as you can get from being an expert on human social behavior, but I’ve picked up a few key insights. Here’s one thing I do know: Big company offices love an excuse for a good party. And when I say “good,” I mean terrible. I mean, they have a bizarre affection for events featuring insufferable small talk, sticky candies, the whole nine yards.

At one of my former companies, the HR department had the wild idea of throwing a surprise party for my birthday. “Surprise” being the operative word, as that’s the only reason they managed to plan such a ludicrous event without my preemptive veto.

The less said about the party itself, the better. Suffice it to say, when I heard who was responsible, I held a meeting the following day with the HR department. I casually inquired how one might go about replacing an entire department. Hypothetically speaking, of course.

They got the message. They never threw a party for me again.

At this point in my career, with over two decades in tech and business under my belt, I’m glad my reputation precedes me. I no longer have to worry about walking into my first day at a new company to see that some overeager staff member has planned a nightmare of a party to welcome me.

It would be the quickest route to my bad side.

Today, the cold hum of ambition cuts through the crisp morning air as I stride into the sleek lobby of the Nexus Tech Solutions headquarters, my Italian leather shoes clicking authoritatively on the polished marble floors. This place is mine now. Or it will be, in six weeks.

On the thirtieth floor, I push through the door to my new corner office. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlook the Sacramento skyline, the morning light glinting off glass high-rises. Not bad, though I’ve seen better. I can almost see my reflection in those windows, reminding me that I should probably invest in some wrinkle cream for those early morning wake-up calls.

“There he is!” A voice booms behind me.

Matt saunters in. We clasp hands and do that half-hug thing men do, though it’s far from my favorite bonding activity.

“Hey, man! You’re finally here! How are you liking the office so far?”

“Glad to be here. I’m taking it all in.” I offer him a small smile, trying not to let on how nervous I feel about pulling off this crazy plan of mine. My nerves tend to come out in the form of lashing out at people, and Matt doesn’t deserve that. I’m self-aware enough to realize this, but that doesn’t mean I know how to do something about it.

Truth be told, I’m not even sure if I want to fix my temper. In the business circles I run in, a reputation for ruthlessness gets you respect. It also makes people give you a wide berth, so that even in the off-work hours, they try to stay at least ten feet away at all times. Not gonna lie, it’s like having a personal force field without all the superhero responsibilities. Though it does make group hugs a bit tricky.

That’s worked just fine for me, too.

Until now.

Hand in his pocket, Matt leans on the balls of his feet to gesture toward the rest of the office space. “Did you happen to see the size of that welcome party we had waiting for you today?” He lets out a long whistle, like the number of people he’s referring to is huge.

I pause, remembering the echo of my own footsteps that had sounded clearly through the building as I’d walked through the office this morning. There was hardly anyone at all here besides myself—anytime I did catch a glimpse of someone, they’d scurried away.

A glance at Matt’s face confirms what I’ve just started to suspect. He has a wide, facetious grin. He’s joking.

I don’t always pick up on humor in the form of satire or sarcasm, sometimes feeling like an alien on my own planet as I try to decipher what people mean when they don’t mean what they say. But when I get to know someone, I can eventually memorize their cues.

“Nobody’s here, you mean.”

Matt nods. “Word got out that today would be your first day, and let’s just say we’ve got lots of people working from home today. Others are taking meetings outside the office, and we’ve had quite a few call in sick. There must be something going around—an ‘avoid the new boss’ virus.”

I frown. “I should’ve mandated that they come in today.”

“What you should’ve done is send a greeting email. Promise to cater lunch, bring them new schwag bags, something.” Matt chuckles. “Anything to soften them up when all they’ve heard about you are the horror stories.”

The so-called “horror stories” are mostly exaggerated. Sure, I can be tough in meetings, but I never flung a subordinate’s laptop out the window and threatened to toss him out next, okay? I don’t even know how that rumor got started.

“They’re not the ones I’m worried about my reputation with,” I remind him.

“But they’re part of the big picture,” he says. “I don’t know how you expect to pull off the wholesome family guy image when everyone sees you as the mean guy.”

I bite the soft inside of my cheek in frustration. He’s probably right. I’ll have to add “be nice to my staff” to my growing list of tasks to complete my plan.

“I have it under control,” I assure him, even though I absolutely do not.

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