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His uncle’s face softened; for just a moment Alex saw a striking resemblance. Not only to Grandpa My. But something he saw in his own face, every day when he glanced in the mirror.
Uncle Marty was looking for a sign.
How many summer evenings had Hal Myers probably spent out on the back lawn, teaching first his son, then his grandsons, the art of throwing a ball? Passing along, from generation to generation, the silent, subtle back-and-forth between pitcher and catcher to communicate what was about to go down.
His uncle’s brow raised, perhaps not fully understanding, but at least open to the play. Trusting Alex for once.
“And…done.” Hedstrom made one last keystroke with a flourish. “Been looking to trim the fat for a while now.” He printed the status list from the HR software, strode to the printer and handed it to Alex.
“Congratulations, Hedstrom – you just laid off over forty percent of your staff, immediately triggering a partial termination of Britesmith’s 401(k) retirement plan.”
Hedstrom frowned, looking confused. Then – a glimmer of panic set in.
Score one for Team Hayseed.
“That’s right,Ron.You just fully vested all these employees. They are entitled to any employer contribution being made up to this point. Youhavebeen making youremployercontributions into a trust, right? Assuming it’s just your employees you steal from?”
“How dare you accuse me – I’m the goddamn CEO, you SOB!”
“Yeah, well, here are some more acronyms for you. ERISA, The Employee Retirement Security Act of 1974 which you breached when you misused your employee’s retirement funds.” Hedstrom had no poker face, but his ugly mug went as white as a playing card. “EBSA, DOL, IRS, and the Myers BOD,” Alex ticked off, starting to enjoy himself. “All would be very interested in hearing all this. Shall I go on?”
“I’ve heard enough.” Marty stepped up to bat now. “Ron, step down. Immediately. And I’m sure the Board of Directors will agree when they convene at nine o’clock Central Time on my behest. We’ll issue a press release, you keep your reputation, but you can slink down into the hole you came from. Far away from anything attached to the Myers name. Security will escort you out.” He reached for the CEO’s desk phone.
Hedstrom gave them both a long, hateful stare. Then turned to his keyboard once again.Don’t mess with Iowa, Alex thought triumphantly.Score two.
The printer across the room whirred again. “Bring it to me, I’ll sign it,” Hedstrom grunted. No sooner had Alex turned his back did Hedstrom attack the keyboard with renewed fervor. Paused, swore, and manically typed some more. “That bitch!”
“Oh yeah, and if you were thinking of making any last-minute transfers yourself…you’re about eleven hours too late.” Nora had reset not only new banking passwords last night, but a two-signer verification for anyone trying to move money internally or externally. “Since you’re in the habit of forgetting passwords…don’t bother trying to remember your old one. It no longer works.”
“IT will help speed all that along,” Marty added. “I called them, too.” Obviously not his first rodeo when it came to terminations, but Alex was impressed by his uncle’s about-face.Bases officially loaded.
But there was still more damage control to do.
“Grand slam on the grand scam, kid.” Uncle Marty praised. “Now go run us home, rookie.”
* * *
“Parker!”
Nora’s assistant was running interference from behind the main turnstiles separating the prohibited from the permitted. The security guards – guys she had known for years, whom she greeted with a hello and a smile every day – looked both apologetic and fed up as Britesmithers tried, and failed, to swipe in.
“This. Is. Bananas!” Parker hollered to her, dodging the sea of other building occupants as they streamed in to start their work day.
This is the moment of truth, she thought, pulling her own ID from her purse.
“Hang on, people.” Charlie, the head of security, just hung up his phone. “All of you all, you’ve been called to the conference room on the Mezzanine level. Not you, Ruben.” He held up a copy of the same printed list Beck had shown her yesterday. Sure enough, her name on the top was crossed off.
“Nora, is it true?” Tia strode right up to her. The wide Covergirl smile she usually flashed so easily for Nora was pulled tight in a grim, lipsticked line. “Losing a bonus I can handle. But this? Joshua and I are trying to get a mortgage! Can’t do that on one income.”
“Wait, what?” Nora needed a beat; this was not what she and Beck had discussed.
After all they had shared, and all she had confided in him…had he just gone ahead and done the thing he had come to town to do in the first place?
His so-called “change of plans” …was really no change at all. With one exception: if her name was crossed off the list, she had somehow managed to sacrifice all of her staff in the process of saving herself.
“Tia, I swear I’m going to figure this out.” It wasn’t just one upset and disappointed face she was assuring. As each of her staff filed by, on their way up to the mezzanine, she heard herself promising each and every one. Whether they heard her – or believed her – was another story.
“Yeah, right. Merry Christmas to us,” Fran from Marketing kvetched. “Don’t bother, Nora.” Two of the staffers from yesterday’s rock opera, girls who pulled double-duty on the show’s dark days as social media coordinators, gave Nora their best resting bitch faces as they marched behind her.
