AllFreeNovel
Share Us
1
Aidan
The clench of my jaw behind my forced smile is nothing new. Nor is the bite of my nails in my palms. I know what he will say next, word for word.
“Well, Aidan, we may disagree on this, but at the end of the day, I own the majority of this company, so…” Finbar Keenan shrugs his shoulders while twisting the letter opener in his hands. He leans his heavy torso further back in his oversized office chair and tries to hide the glee in his eyes while delivering the final punch. “My decision rules.”
My decision rules, even though that decision is wrong for the company, setting us further back from the competition. A photo shoot on Ha’penny Bridge. Christ, could you find a more predictable setting? Using one of Dublin’s iconic landmarks for promo images will only attract elderly tourists, not the masses. But Finbar insisted on the location, claiming our jewellery company stands for Irish tradition, even though it’s only been up and running for twelve years.
“Fine,” is all I manage to squeeze through my stiff lips.
I fight the urge to scream as the third manin the room snickers. Finbar has no reservations about insulting me in front of his twenty-three-year-old son. Whenever I’ve asked to keep such company discussions private, he refuses and says that his son is an extension of himself. Then he’d add that I wouldn’t know what he’s talking about since I don’t have any children of my own.
That comment and the smirk on his lips never fail to sting.
I suppress the urge to slam the door on the two men as I leave the office. I used to consider Finbar a friend. He was older, thirty-four to my twenty-four, and he already had a small family, back when we joined forces. We both had a design background, but I had finished my degree while Finbar had changed direction to business and, most importantly, had cash to contribute to the start-up capital. Therefore, at the time, I had no issues giving him fifty-five percent ownership. Or giving the company his name:Keenan Jewellers.It was a dream come true, having a shopfront on the ground floor on one of the side lanes from Grafton Street, offices on the first and second floor, and a small workshop up on the third floor. And it was ours!
But now, just over a decade later, Finbar acts as if I’m one of his employees, not a part owner. He may have been the one with the business brain when we set out on this adventure, but I’ve learned a lot over the years – learned from mistakes that he still holds over me – and we’d be nothing without my designs. Twelve years of my hard labour, yet he always takes the credit for our small successes.
If he could widen his vision, we’d have big successes.
“Ha’penny Bridge, fuck me,” I mutter to myself.
“Aidan!”
I momentarily close my eyes before I slowly turn. The sicklytone always sends an icky chill down my spine.
“Junior,” I reply, and the corner of my mouth tugs at the sight of his annoyed frown.
“It’s Fin,” he hisses, like he always does, but there’s not a cat’s chance in hell that I’ll call Finbar Keenan Junior anything but ‘Junior’.
Yes, Finbar Senior is so up his own arse that he called his firstborn after himself.
“What do you want?”
Fin stretches his back and tries to broaden his narrow shoulders. He has followed me out of the office after his father humiliated me in front of him. Again.
“I’ll do the Ha’penny photo shoot.”
“The fuck you will.”
He lifts his chin and pouts his lips. There’s something feminine about him, probably a result of having been – and still being – coddled by his mother. I know he’s not gay. I’ve caught him looking down women’s cleavages enough times to rule that out.
“It’s part of my development,” the punk insists, running his hand through his thick black hair.
I barely resist the urge to bitch-slap him.
“Your development is indesigningjewellery,” I lecture. Finbar Senior may never have completed his design degree, yet he insisted his son follow his so-called footsteps. Regretfully, Junior hasn’t much more talent than his father. “This company paid for your very expensive apprenticeship with Tom Stirling, and until youmasterthe area of design, you’ll be miles away frommyphoto shoots.”
Fin’s pale cheeks take on a pink tint. I hardly design jewellery anymore – I’ve lost the passion – so I’ve made marketing mynew area. I’ll be damned if Junior is anywhere near my photo shoot, even if it is onfeckingHa’penny Bridge.
He starts whining. “But I—”
“Last time I checked, I was an owner of this company. You’re not. My say is final.” I turn and leave him behind as I stomp down the corridor.
Yeah, I use the same argument as his father. Bullying Finbar’s beloved spoiled son the same way Finbar bullies me is one of the only perks of this job.
Or, hello, maybe not?
