Page 1 of Rich and Bossy

CHAPTER 1

Paxton

Nothing like a warehousemeeting at the ass crack of dawn.

At least it’s a beautiful day with the windows down.

Early October, so not too painfully cold yet. The air is crisp, clean, fresh. It hints at the winter coming soon though, like a small, painful reminder. Winter is inescapable in Minnesota, that’s for damn sure. My joints are already starting to remind me it’s coming.

Fuck, I miss football.

I pull my Charger into an inconspicuous spot that’s open on the back side of the parking lot, and my assistant Bree gets out with me. She’s oblivious, on her phone the entire time, no doubt scheduling things and tracking my appearances. When we exit the car, I look up. The warehouse is massive. If you stand on one side, you can’t even see the end of it. It never gets old looking at it. The giant logo onourbuilding.

You guys really built this shit.

It’s still surreal.

The corporate logo is a twenty-foot blue wave curving over the name Rapid. It’s like a beacon when it’s lit at night, visible formiles around, hammering home our brand in the minds of our consumers.

These feelings are the only thing exciting me at the moment. At least it pulls my attention from the boring meeting about to take place.

Still, my employees work hard and it’s good for me to get out and talk to them, see how they’re doing. I still know a few of them from the beginning.

We didn’t realize it at the time, but I think the company grewtoofast. The people who measure my net worth would likely disagree, as would the shareholders.

There are fulfillment centers like this one in every major North American market, but this was the first.

I pass a few drivers looking over clipboards before climbing into their trucks. They don’t notice me. If they do, they damn sure don’t recognize me. That’s good, I suppose. I was worried pulling in here in the Charger would draw a bunch of attention. It’s not exactly quiet and easy to miss.

At one time in Minnesota I couldn’t go anywhere in town without signing autographs. Those days have since passed.

I try to stay out of the media, no matter how hard they try to force me into it. Truth be told, I can’t fucking stand them. It’s all fake, performance art.

Finally, it happens. One of them spots me and his eyes widen a little. He walks around the corner, no doubt about to signal in with the walkie talkie clipped on his belt. As I pass more people, there are definitely side eyes, and people are standing more at attention.

That’s why I don’t like people recognizing me. They act like I’m some kind of dictator who’s going to come micromanage every aspect of what they’re doing.

I shoot a glance at my assistant, who rarely leaves my side when I’m out of the office. She’s on her phone, as usual.

“Well, they know I’m here.”

“Yes, sir.”

I’m not sure she even knows what I just said. “Yes, sir,” is her default response to everything. I’m sure she’s scrambling, trying to keep my schedule in order. I never meant for it to be like this for her, either. But she’s loyal to a fault and has been with us since the beginning.

She must feel my eyes on her, because her head snaps up. “They said to take the elevator up to the top floor, and they’ll be waiting there in the main conference room opposite the auditorium.”

Yeah, a fucking auditorium. We had to have a room that big for warehouse meetings for the general employees. Fortunately, this meeting is just upper management, and then I’ll go around and talk to employees afterward.

These meetings happen every year before the holiday season. I call it “shit hits the fan” season, because that’s exactly what happens, but it always carries us to an incredible fourth quarter. It’s coming at us fast, like a freight train.

“Sounds good.” I truly mean that too. Thank God they didn’t have someone waiting to show us up there and kiss my ass the whole way.

I know how that sounds, but it just happens. I get it, but I prefer people to be real, honest. I want to deal with that person, their actual concerns. I cannot stand people just telling me what they think I want to hear.

It’s a CEO curse. At least for me, anyway.

The warehouse is cavernous when we enter. You really have to experience it for yourself to take it all in. Towering shelves stacked as high as OSHA will let us stack them.

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