Page 95 of Feel It in the Air

25

MARGEAUX

The teacherin the Charlie Brown cartoon specials makes more sense than my bosses do right now.

I understand all of the words they’re using—I’m no dummy after all—yet somehow, they are failing to compute.

Complaint. Favoritism. Violation of company policy.

Sucking in a breath, I force myself to focus. Percy, Auggie, and Carl from HR are sitting across the large wooden table from me, their expressions knitted into something I can’t name. Something that tells me they are just as uncomfortable as I am.

Yet, they aren’t the ones who got caught with their hands in the cookie jar. The one who has spent the last couple of months sneaking around, risking her job and professional reputation. Something I always said I’d never do.

Nope, that was me.

“I’m sure you can understand and respect that it’s a complicated situation,” Auggie says, trying to be delicate.

“That’s one word for it,” I comment, numbness taking over as I try to wrap my brain around the bomb they just dropped.

Because this is real. This isn’t simply a nightmare that I’m going to wake up from to roll over and snuggle into Gus for comfort. Nope. This is my life. My actual Friday afternoon. The future of my career.

An HR complaint.

Someone ratted us out.

The walls of the large conference room close in on me, a space that seemed so massive when filled with an entire department the other day now feeling claustrophobic. Then again, that moment was one of happiness and celebration, rather than admonishment and censure.

“We want to do what’s right for everyone involved,” Percy adds. “And in order to do that, we need to properly investigate these allegations.”

“And what exactly are the allegations?” I press, letting some indignation slip into the pins and needles prickling my skin. I look my boss straight in the eye, lawyer to lawyer, wanting an answer. A real answer. “You said there has been a complaint regarding a personal relationship between Gus and me, and therefore a potential conflict of interest. What conflict of interest? What examples of favoritism were provided?”

The corner of Percy’s mouth twitches and I can tell he’s fighting back a smile. That the lawyer in him is proud of me for demanding such proof. However, the manager in him wins out, and he remains straight-faced.

Carl clears his throat, leaning forward, preparing himself to tackle this one. “For the last two months, Gus has been the interim head of the legal department, to which you are assigned. Per Hayes policy, personal relationships between direct reports is not allowed. If we can confirm that there was indeed a relationship of this nature, that then substantiates the belief that this may have led to a conflict of interest during this time.”

The well-practiced, jargon-filled statement does nothing to ease the fury building in me. If anything it stokes the fire—fans the flames of outrage at the situation. I have so many questions, my head and my heart competing for the chance to lead this fight.

“What proof is there of a relationship?”

“Are you denying the relationship, Miss Finnegan?” Carl asks.

“I’m asking what proof you and the accuser have,” I retort.

All three men reel back, Carl the most, my question catching them off guard. The air shifts, unease sinking in further, as they look at each other. They were not expecting me to fight back. Well, too bad. That’s who I am.

Shows how well they know me.

I didn’t get to this point in my career by backing down from a fight. I won’t go down without one either.

Percy clears his throat, shifting in his seat, indecision written all over his face. I know they know. Or, I assume they know. Gus told me that he confided in Percy on Monday that he has a “personal interest” in me, but from the way it sounded it was more that he would be acting on it rather than he has acted on it.

As for Auggie, well, he is Gus’s father. The Hayes family is close. Really close. There is no way that I’ve spent as much time as I have with them—all of them—and their parents weren’t aware. Not to mention, I am—was?—expected at Sunday dinner this weekend. As his girlfriend. Can’t imagine Auggie is in the dark on that one.

Question is, do they know that I know that they know?

As for Carl, well, he’s the wild card here. He could go either way. I think back, trying to remember if Gus said anything over these last few weeks about whether or not he’d talked with HR when I first arrived, but there’s too much noise from this mess to think clearly. And I don’t think he did anything this week. Because I said we should wait until Monday.

Good going, Margeaux…