Page 92 of Rich and Bossy

John stares at me like he agrees with everything I say as I get the rundown from the legal team. He knows as well as I do what’s truly at stake here. But I still wonder what he really thinks about all this. I know he says he has my back, but does he really?

Of course he does.

Don’t be ridiculous.

He’s been through it all with you and never wavered at the end of the day.

“It’s not looking good. We’re on our heels.” Our lead counsel looks like he’d rather tear out his own tongue than deliver the bad news.

“We can’t control what they’re doing. How do we counter something like this?”

Erica, our PR manager, rubs her temples while grimacing. “We need to get out a message that this isn’t the way. We’re losing in the court of public opinion fast if we don’t get a face out there countering their narrative.”

“I’m sure they’re going to state a list of demands. If they’re smart, they’ll keep it simple. Something easy for the public and the workers to understand, and that those simple points are what the union will focus on getting for them.”

“What are our options?”

“Well, we can get out ahead and negotiate on their demands to try to squash the union in its tracks.”

For a moment, all I can do is stare at each of them in turn. “So, roll over?”

“Negotiate. Try to minimize losses. They’d probably buckle without gettingeverythingthey ask for.”

“What are they asking for?”

“They haven’t said yet.”

“So, we just wait and let them run the damn show?” I don’t glare, but I try to make sure they know how serious I’m taking this.

John jumps in, taking me a little by surprise. “You mean to tell me with all the brainpower in this room, this is the only shit you guys can come up with? What the hell are we paying you for?” His face is red and he’s practically shaking.

Jesus, I’ve never seen him like this. Even I get a little wide-eyed and stare at him likewhat the hell are you doing?

Everyone looks taken aback.

“With all due respect, none of us are miracle workers.” Sean looks around the room, where his colleagues nod and generally look miserable. One of them hasn’t stopped typing frantically since I arrived. I assume she’s working on a statement for the press. The lady is practically sweating bullets.

How the hell did you let things get this out of control?

Now is not the time for me to listen to that voice in my head, no matter how truthful it is. Later, I can sit down and ice my ego and admit I’m taking a damn beating.

“We’re not asking for miracles.” I manage to modulate my voice, at least, so it eases up on them a little.

“The hell we’re not. I want some fucking miracles and I want them in the next hour.”

For fuck’s sake. All I can do is stare at him, then quickly move my focus back to the room.

Before I can say anything else, he’s at it again.

“She’s not working on her own. I want intelligence. I want to know everything they’re doing next before they do it. I don’t give a shit how it gets done. You act like your job is on the line, because it is. Enough of this bullshit.”

Sean gulps. “We have people looking into it. I’ll have an intelligence briefing with you soon.” Sean looks like he’s glad he can at least give me decent news.

Maybe it’s a good thing John is driving them like this. I don’t know. I didn’t expect him to do this.

John now has his phone out, watching something. “You shitting me? She has a camera crew following her to the warehouse.”

No need for him to name the person he’s talking about. He glances my way before going back to watching everything unfold.

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