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One can’t be too careful.
Marie already has Skylar's lunch prepared, along with mine. We eat together and do our usual running around. I think of it as a service to Marie, relieving her to focus on the other things she must do around the house.
Playing with Skylar is fun and relieving, like a peaceful chore. But eventually I must go. There are a lot of things I must do for Thomas, and they wouldn't plan themselves.
Just when I finally can get Skylar to leave me alone by distracting her with homework I’d cross-check tomorrow, I get a call from Rebecca.
“I have a favor to ask of you,” she starts without even as much as a hello. I’m used to it, though.
“I’m listening, ma’am.”
“I’ll be gone over the weekend…”
I can’t stop myself from uttering the low groan that interrupts her.
"I know, I know, I'm genuinely sorry, but can you please stay with Skylar for me? The house has practically everything you need. And I'll add it to your pay." She seems confident at the fact that getting to live in a luxury apartment for the weekend and a few extra hundred dollars added to my paycheck is what is going to convince me. She’s wrong, but I must comply.
“I mean, I really don’t have a choice, do I?” I sigh.
“You do. You just love Skylar too much," she chuckles sarcastically, and ends the call.
Damnit.
2
REBECCA
The entire meeting is way too drab for me to focus and keep up with the pace of contributing meaningfully.
I dropped out of it as soon as they decided my suggestions were childish and inconceivable, whatever that meant.
What hurt me the most about that was the fact that it was the odious gnome?Thomas?that initiated the theory of my unreasonableness.
How on earth is installing a refinery inconceivable?
We've consolidated as many profits as we can from the oil rigs we now have.
Wouldn't it be awesome to chart a new course and increase our profits by processing the crude oil we manufacture and reducing middleman interaction?
The company is buoyant enough to afford it. We haven't made any significant losses over the last seven years, except for the year my father died just a year ago. I believe we have the structural organization to recruit and train petroleum engineers who can work in refineries.
I zone in and out, watching them bicker over things that aren't worth it.
They go around in circles before concluding that we should build the refinery.
"Are you done, gentlemen?" I mutter bitterly, pissed off at how they pushed me aside simply because I am relatively younger and inexperienced.
"Yes," Thomas says. "We're done, and I've come to the conclusion that we should build the refinery."
Everyone else agrees.
"Don't be dick, Thomas," Alan, one of the only people that always has my back, counters. "It was Rebecca's idea from the beginning, and you're only saying it now because you've seen that there's no other way to move the company forward. Give her some credit for being smarter and more proactive in thinking than you are."
Alan is a lot older than him and commands the respect of pretty much every other person in the room, being the person with the second highest stake apart from me.
Also, no one likes Thomas enough to defend him, so they all just sit and hold their laughter as the asshole stews in embarrassment.
"Go on from here, Rebecca. You want us to do the refinery, so I’m guessing you already have some plans in place?" Alan nods over at me.
