Page 85 of I Saw You First

It’s not a fling, I think, but I’m not going to tell him that.

“This coming from a man who married not only your operations manager but later, a human resources specialist after you divorced the mother of your children.” I somehow remain calm. “You’re such a hypocrite, Dad.”

“You admit it, then? That you’re having a relationship with your direct report?” The way he keeps saying that—direct report—chills me.

“What are you trying to say?”

“I’m saying you either end it with this girl or, if you decide to pursue a relationship with her, you can start interviewing candidates for a new media team captain.”

“So, what, you’ll have her moved to another store? Or fired?”

He doesn’t respond at first, and his silence speaks volumes. “I know you don’t hold much regard for my opinion, but I’ve worked hard to make this company a success. I want to see you succeed as well. You don’t need this distraction. Ideally, for your sake, you’ll end whatever is going on with this girl and refocus. She’s smart, and she was a good hire. But I’m not opposed to ending her career with Hometown Electronics to save yours. You’re so close to your goal. And remember, a relationship with a direct report goes against company policy, and it’s not a good look for the flagship store.”

“Stop calling her a girl,” I grind out, and then the boulder of ice-cold anger that’s been growing in my mind bursts into a million sharp shards behind my eyes and I lose my control. “Why is this so important to you? Why do you care?”

“Lower your voice,” he hisses. “I care because you are ten years into a career that matters, Wil, to me, to you, to this family. You need to end whatever’s going on with her by the end of this week, or she’ll be out of a job, and you can kiss your GM job goodbye.”

I’m up and standing before I know it, my chair tipping over behind me. I won’t listen to this. I move close, right up to his face. I’m taller and stronger and, right now, angrier. I want to shout at him, ask him how he got to be such an asshole. He can’t have always been like this. No way would Mom have fallen in love with such a pompous, power-hungry, heartless bastard.

But then, I deflate. All the anger, all the indignation, seeps out of me, a slow leak. I can’t walk away from this, the position I’ve worked so hard to earn, but more importantly, I can’t put Abbey’s in jeopardy. She already lost one job, and I can’t be responsible for her losing another.

“You win, Mr. Wilshire,” I say quietly. “You win.”

When Abbey comes back to work, I’ll find a way to end our beginning.

Somehow, things get worse after Dad leaves and Jeremy pages me to the Dugout.

“Abbey still out sick?” he asks.

“Yeah.” My answer is short and to the point. I’m out of patience today.

“Hmm. Have you, ah, seen her since the gala?”

“I stopped by her apartment to check on her yesterday.”

“Uh-huh.”

I don’t have time for this. “Jeremy, what’s going on?”

He sighs and slides a document across the desk. I don’t have to do more than glance at it to recognize what it is. Team Member Corrective Action.

“Are you kidding me?”

He shakes his head. “Go on, read it.”

Jefferson A. Wilshire IV (Wil), merchandise manager, engaged in inappropriate behavior with a direct report, who for privacy reasons will remain unnamed, at a sanctioned Hometown Electronics event on December 31, 1996.

I look up with wide eyes. “I’m not signing this.”

“You haven’t even read the whole thing!”

“Did she file a complaint?”

“Who, Abbey?”

I’ve had enough of Jeremy’s clueless act. “Obviously Abbey.”

“No, she didn’t file a complaint.”