Page 37 of Every Silent Lie
He skids to a stop on his black patent dress shoes that wouldn’t look out of place on the Child Catcher from Chitty Chitty Bang Bang. “You’ve seen the draft accounts?”
Realising he’s fallen behind, I stop too, assessing his disposition. I can’t fathom whether he’s annoyed or embarrassed. Perhaps annoyed with Jeff. The embarrassment must be for me. Did he tell Jeff not to share the accounts with me? “Something tells me you’re aware of the mess they’re in.”
“Let’s chat on Monday.” He makes to walk on, but halts obediently when I deliver his name on a sharp hiss, and his green velvet shoulders drop as he braves facing me. “It’s in hand.”
“Thomas, can I remind you of the position you gave me?”
He rolls his eyes. “You don’t need to remind me, Camryn.”
“I think I do, Thomas, because since you’ve hired me, you’ve persistently broken my budgets, made financial decisions behind my back, let your wife and son go off on spending tangents, and obliterated my financial forecasts, which would have had your company ready for the team to move in and get to work well before now.”
“It’s not so bad.”
“You’ve paid yourself and your board members, aka your wife and son, over ten million this year. What do you think that looks like to potential investors? And that’s before we take into consideration all of the transactions I’m finding on the business credit cards that aren’t business related.”
“Can we discuss this on Monday?”
“What am I doing here?”
“What?”
“Why am I here, Thomas? I’m the CFO of your company, a role your wife begrudgingly stepped away from, and I have absolutely no control of the company’s finances. Am I expected to paint a glorious picture of your profitability? Lead the industry to believe you’re smashing it out of the park?”
“A little support wouldn’t go a miss.”
“For what purpose?”
His head drops back, his mouth open. It’s the most insulting display of exasperation. “Is this eating into my one hour?”
“Yes.”
“Thought so. Look, I just want people to see we’re making strides. I’ve got Camryn Moore on the payroll, for Christ’s sake. Everyone knows what you do and why you do it.”
“Yes, they do, and I’ve got a clean sheet of victories. That doesn’t stop now.” I can’t threaten him that I’ll quit, and it’s not because quitting would tarnish that clean sheet. I simply can’t go back to endless, long days of nothing, when I had all the time in the world for my regrets and fuck-ups to torment me. Suffocate me. Thomas’s frivolousness has extended my initial contract term, which was a welcomed gift, but failing is not an option. Failing will mean no other company will be interested in hiring me in the future, and no work means no reprieve.
“All duly noted,” Thomas says, stepping closer and dropping his voice. “Like I said, we’ll talk on Monday.” His smile is half-baked and nervous as shit.
“Fine.”
“Okay, let’s go mingle.” He cocks his arm out for me to hook. “Let’s start with Holcot.”
I disregard his offer and throw myself into the den. “The Holcot? The Holcot from Atlantic Sea Global?”
“Who else? They’re out to tender.”
I raise my brows as we pass through various groups, my eyes forced into a wince to ease the glare of the sequin epidemic. “And you want me to rain glory all over TF Shipping.”
“They listen to CFOs, especially ones of your calibre.”
“Flattery will get you nowhere.”
“Oh, I know that, Camryn. Especially with you. I’m stating facts, is all.”
“I’d be lying if I told anyone you’re a safe bet right now.”
“I have the ships.”
“You need more than ships to take on a business like Atlantic Sea Global. A company like yours would require no other business if you got Holcot’s signature on the bottom line.”
