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I exhale in resignation, pity, and disappointment. “Look, Jones, this is a tough time for all of us at the company. Things are definitely not rosy and it’s taking its toll on everyone. I can’t say for how much longer it’ll be this way, but I can assure you, I’m doing everything I can to make sure we come out of this. In the meantime, you cannot, under any kind of pressure, endanger our lives by drinking before getting behind the wheel. I’m not going to punish you now, but I’ll give you a second chance.”
Jones finally looks at me in the mirror and nods solidly.
The man doesn’t look like he’s buying my speech about things getting better, but I’m sure he won’t be drinking cheap shots in the car again.
I can’t imagine how terrified he is. He makes a really healthy salary as a chauffeur at Building Bridges, healthier than some higher-level corporate jobs in many other companies.
“Also, I know this job is very important to you. If, in the worst-case scenario, Building Bridges cannot get back on its feet, then I’ll get you a role at BB27. You can count on that. In the meantime, try to send some positive thoughts and light to Building Bridges.”
A tiny smile spreads across his lips as he nods rapidly.
“Thank you, Boss. I’m beyond grateful. I pray every night and I won’t forget to pray for the company. Thank you for being gracious.”
I know his gratitude isn’t just for the conditional job offer but also for letting him slide with the drinking thing.
Finally, we pull up at Twenty-Seven.
Three.
Two.
One.
There it is. Within three seconds of pulling up at Bridges, Inc., the palpitation and sweaty hands syndrome begin.
I’m not even here to interact with my old man, and yet, my reaction will always stay consistent. All that steel, gold, glass, and marble will never be enough to douse the toxicity my father has poured into me in this company.
Making my way through the reception area, I head straight up to Roscoe’s office. His secretary buzzes me in immediately.
Roscoe is seated at his desk, one leg up the other side of his magnificent spinning chair as he reads something on his phone. The blinding white color of this room perfectly suits the majesty of the black-toned sparkling furniture. I like how the floor-to-ceiling windows behind him are gleaming, showing the entire district in one mind-blowing view.
“Harrison, how’s it going?” Roscoe stands and makes his way around the desk.
“It’s going.” I’ve barely checked in on him before he envelopes me in a big bear hug.
“Come on, let’s go get a drink. I need a whiskey but I was waiting for you.”
We head over to the wet bar on the other side of the table and Roscoe unleashes his bartender alter ego, mixing tiny drinks with an expertise I’m not sure where he learned.
“So, what brings you over to this place I know you hate more than hell?” Roscoe asks, focusing on me.
“I just need some good news right now. I don’t know how much longer we can continue like this. Nothing is happening. We’ve hit a stone wall everywhere and our last hope was your legal team here at Bridges. Why aren’t they pulling any weight for us yet? They haven’t even brought one reasonable update in the past week. What’s happening, Roscoe?” I’m trying not to hyperventilate as I speak. I don’t want to feel more exhausted than I already am.
Roscoe sighs and swipes a hand across his forehead. “Harrison, I’m just as boggled as you are. Are you forgetting Building Bridges is actually mine? I’m in the middle of this nonsense situation just as much as you. I want it solved and done with just as badly. If there was anything I could do to hasten the process, I would have done it forever and a day ago. It’s really just out of anybody’s control.”
He talks about a few minor updates he’s gotten from the legal team so far, and in his opinion, a huge break is on the way.
“You may not see it right now, but I trust these people. They are working on uncovering some names in the local press who might have connected with Hayes throughout the course of this case. Someone is definitely going to flip and snitch. We’re closer than we’ve ever been.”
My heart soars in joy at that tiny progress update and deflates within the next second. I know better than to excite myself with blind faith.
Nodding rapidly, I relax as Roscoe pats my back. Looking up at him, an unsettled expression spreads across his face.
“What is it?” I ask.
“What is what?” Roscoe deflects.
“You have that look on your face. The same look you had ten years ago when you crashed my first SUV and didn’t know how to tell me. Just spill. What is it?”
