Page 21 of Token

“You’re being sued? You are?” If he didn’t look so serious, the idea would have been comical. “On the basis of what?”

“Gender and race,” he replied tersely.

Kennedy stared at him, agape. “Are you being serious right now?”

“No, which is why I caught the first flight out of Paris so I could come back here and have company lawyers advise me that twelve of my current and six of my former employees arenotsuing me—I mean, the company. So yes, Kennedy, I’m dead serious.”

“Hey, ease up on the snark. You’ll forgive me for being caught off guard when you show up out of nowhere and spring something like that on me. I’m still trying to wrap my brain around it.”

Nate sighed wearily. “Look, I’m sorry. I must get this way when I’m dealing with class-action lawsuits.”

“I don’t understand. Your company is touted as one of the most diverse tech companies in the country. Last year’s diversity scorecard had it at a solid B+, the best in the industry.” The top three in the country.

“The lawsuit alleges women and African Americans are being passed over for advancement within the company. Here, read this.” Leaning forward, he tossed over the newspaper clutched in his hand.

Startled, Kennedy glanced at him warily before smoothing open the curled edges of the paper—she was strictly a digital girl, so it had been a while—and started reading everything highlighted in yellow.

The invisible glass ceiling is as present as ever in the most diverse tech company in the country.

...After digging a little deeper into the numbers, we found that despite Constellation’s boast of a diverse workforce of 19%, once you get into midlevel and upper management, the percentage drops significantly. White males comprise 89% of all upper-management jobs, South Asians 6%, Southeast Asians 3%, women (white) 2%.

Kennedy’s gaze darted from the article to Nate. “Not one Black person in upper management?” she asked, puzzled. “I thought your CFO was Black.”

“He was, but Jacob left last year. Took a job in San Francisco, where his wife was doing her medical residency.”

“He wasn’t the company’s only Black executive, was he? I remember Aurora telling me a Black woman is in charge of Sales.” An MIT grad, if she remembered correctly.

“Carol left six months before Jacob.”

“Okay, so the only two Black executives quit within six months of each other? Great timing,” she stated dryly. “Did you know your numbers with Blacks and women were this abysmal?” She gestured at the article.

Reclined in the chair, Nate groaned low in his throat and rubbed a palm over his face. “No. Yes. I mean, I was aware of the overall numbers, which I thought were pretty damn good.”

“Yeah, well, sometimes numbers don’t always tell the whole story.”

Raising his head slightly, he eyed her. “What does that mean?”

“It means that atleasteighteen of your employees believe there’s a race-and gender-based glass ceiling at the company impeding possible advancement.”

He held her gaze for a couple moments before tipping his head back and growling, “Fuck!I thought we were on top of this. Ahead of our timeandthe bloody competition. I thought, except for the normal butting of heads and battle of wills, my employees didn’t have much to complain about.”

“Hey, don’t start beating yourself up about this. No company’s perfect.”

“Most companies also don’t have a class-action discrimination lawsuit hanging over their head,” he shot back wryly.

“Your company employs over fifteen thousand people. You have more diversity than your competition. You’ll get through this. You just need to take things one day at a time.”

“Meanwhile, they’re writing shit likethe tone is set at the top, and everyone knows what that’s code for. That everyone is taking their cues from me. That I’m the one encouraging this shit.”

“You’ve been in France for practically the last three years. Someone else has been in charge,” Kennedy offered in his defense.

“Nobody is going to give a shit about that. It’s my company. I’m the owner and CEO. The buck stops with me.”

He was right. The newspapers and reporters wouldn’t give a whit if he’d been a Tibetan monk in Timbuktu the last five years. He’d still been the person in charge, the one whose net worth climbed every time the Dow saw a gain.

Leaning forward, he propped his forearms on his spread thighs and looked her directly in the eye. “I need your help.” It was more a demand than an entreaty. Typical Nate.

“I’m sure Aurora will—”

---