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I spent the whole afternoon trying to figure out how to tell Will that I’m no longer in his executive coaching program. That, according to Mr. Liu, I hold the illustrious honor of being just the third person to be terminated. And the only Gold Ticket winner to toss away my free ride to success. Yay, me.
I’ve been wondering how much Will will care and if he’s aware of the small-print details in the contract I signed when I joined. I didn’t offer details when I texted that I wasn’t feeling well and would see him back here after work.
He’d asked if I needed anything sent up.
A time machine, I thought. But I said I was fine, just out of sorts, and that once I saw him I’d feel better.
But I don’t feel better. I feel much, much worse after considering all the different ways this conversation could go. Five out of ten results include Will looking at me with disappointment, three have him reacting with anger, one has him pitying me and my upper-limit problem. In only a single scenario does he pull me into his arms and tell me he doesn’t care about contracts or his program’s reputation or how he went out on a limb for me and let Mr. Liu and the rest of the team believe I was meant to be a success.
And in that one happy-ending scenario, Will is drunk.
“So … Dawes tells me your father was a Cognac man. Do you have any interest in, you know, maybe sharing a drink—or twelve—with me tonight?”
Will grips my knee and guides me to face him. “What’s wrong?”
“Tear the Band-Aid off, right?”
“Easier that way,” he agrees.
“Let’s see. To start, I’m sorry that all the planning and prep your staff has done with me to be a guest on your podcast will have been for nothing.”
“What are you—”
“Will, let me finish … it’s a big Band-Aid.” I try to smile. I suspect even through the steam, Will can see it’s more of a serial killer’s grimace. “I’m not in the Power Broker Program anymore.”
“What?” Will stands, his anger palpable. “If it’s not working out with Liu, I’ll have another coach assigned.”
I shake my head. “It’s not Liu. Well, not really. It’s me. I don’t want what we’ve been working toward. I don’t want what I agreed to. I don’t want success. At least, not the way the program defines it. I am so sorry I let you down. I am so sorry that I’m a big, black stain on the Will Power brand. I’m sorry I let myself get caught up in believing I wanted … Power Broker–level success.”
There. I said it.
Will is still standing buck naked in the steam. He’d turned his back to me while I was talking, so I can only read his body language … and even then, all I really see is the way he’s breathing. Deep and slow.
He’s trying to control his anger.
I mimic his breath to control my fear.
I stand, wrap my towel around my chest, and try to sneak by him. I want to leave him to process without me in his space.
I make it to the door, but theswishcreated by the change in pressure in the sauna pulls his attention to me.
“Stop,” he commands.
I halt and let the door close again, but don’t turn around.
“You’re mad,” I say.
His hand lands on my shoulder and he twists me to face him. “I’m fucking furious.”
25. Will
POWER BROTHERS … DEACTIVATE
It’s been a week since Virginia dropped out of the coaching program. And in the last seven days, she’s been visibly more relaxed. We spent hours talking about her experience. She had nothing negative to say about Liu, but that hasn’t reduced my ire about the situation.
I check my watch. Time to go shake shit up at the executive level. Emergency board meeting with all the major shareholders, which includes my mother, my brothers, four non-family investors, and myself.
I’m going into this meeting knowing I have support from Horse, Brian, and Aiden—four votes of nine. I need Mother, or one of the OG members, to have these changes passed.
