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“For now, I’ll let you be optimistic for the both of us,” I answered. “But don’t forget to include yourself in my journey to make amends. I owe you an apology as well.”
“Pffft.” He waved that off and helped me pack the other belongings on my desk—and in my drawers. A sad little plant my assistant had given to me. A couple Christmas cards, a watch I’d been meaning to fix since the wristband had snapped in two, a random cuff link, some notepads… “Can I steal the stapler?”
I chuckled. “Go for it. You’re lawyered up, so I’m not worried.”
He snickered and placed the stapler in the box.
After taking down a few frames from the wall, three diplomas and a couple certificates, I heard a knock on the already-open door.
I looked over and—fuck me. Word traveled too fast.
Let me guess, one assistant had told another’s assistant.
It was the big man himself. Sterling Turner.
“Just as I figured—you’re about to make a mistake, my dear chap,” he said. His voice gossiped of years of one too many bottles of scotch. The rest of him screamed of multiple divorces, doctors telling him to watch his blood pressure, a custody battle or two, boredom, and loyalty reserved for the company. He’d started the firm a year after he’d left the UK, “with my bare hands and two thousand pounds I’d borrowed from my father,” as he loved to regale at holiday parties.
“I can assure you I’m not, sir,” I replied. “I spent last night in the ER, certain I was having a heart attack. It’s time for me to bow out. Besides, Kevin is as ready as he’ll ever be.”
Turner let out a gruff chuckle and leaned against the doorway. “Hardly reassuring, now, is it? I’m sure we can work something out, Lucian. They prescribed you medication, didn’t they? Hell, I’ve been on beta-blockers and blood thinners for years.”
Thanks, but I don’t want to be you.
“I’m flattered that you want me around to keep the clients happy, but frankly, my priorities look different,” I told him. I went over to my bookcase, where I had a dozen or so books. Half of them were about spinal cord injuries. I couldn’t keep them around the house where KC might see them, so I’d have to find a good hiding spot.
“Are you sure about that?” Turner asked. “Fred, JJ, and I have been talking, you know…” That would be his closest friend and nephew, both of whom had made partner. “Turner, Gamble, and Leroux—would look good on the building, wouldn’t it?”
Noa scoffed under his breath.
I had half a mind to do the same.
Frankly, it pissed me off. Because over a year ago, I’d told him I wanted to slow down and find a replacement for many of my clients. He’d fed me bullshit to stall any kind of change. Sure, I’d had a new adviser shadowing me—sometimes two—tagging along on meetings and whatnot, but there’d always been “just one more thing.” And I’d obeyed like a damn dog, foolishly thinking I’d get my treat soon.
“I’ll pass, Mr. Turner,” I replied. “I’m handing in my notice today, and you can consider this last year of stringing me along my excuse to call in sick for the next two weeks.” I paused and dropped the last book into the box. “But I’ll look forward to cashing out my stock options. And on another note, how’s your son doing? Did the rehab program work out for him?”
I figured it was a good time to remind him that I knew he’d put his son’s drug rehab on the company card.
I knew a lot of things, actually.
I saved receipts.
One glance at Noa told me it was time to wrap things up. He was fidgeting restlessly and biting his nails, which meant he was mere seconds away from “making his presence known.” I might send him back to the garage while I took a quick trip down to HR.
Turner was hopefully done playing games. I met his thinly veiled smile with a blank expression.
I’d met many colleagues who’d all but feared this man. I’d respected him greatly, but as my father used to say, “Once you’ve witnessed a man’s weaknesses, you know how strong he isn’t.” And Sterling Turner had always enjoyed skirting the rules, sometimes breaking them too, especially when it came to tax laws and bookkeeping.
He couldn’t fuck me over on anything about my final exit from this place.
“I’m disappointed it’s come to this, Lucian,” he said.
“Oh, dude.” Noa picked that moment to speak up, and I sent him a pointed look, but his stare was fixed on Turner. “Just let him go. He doesn’t wanna be here.”
Phew. That could’ve been much worse.
Turner gave my boy a brief frown, and it turned into disdain before he looked back to me. “I’ve heard water-cooler gossip about KC’s boy who can’t shut up.”
Excuse me?
