Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 94546 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 378(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94546 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 378(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
Jess appears as disappointed as I feel when I finally read Jack’s letter. It is a brush-off 101.
Octavia, I have some business to take care of this evening.
I will see you tomorrow.
Jack C
“What is it with the men in our lives?” Jess asks after joining me at the bench and reading Jack’s message over my shoulder. “They can’t see a good thing even when you wave it in front of their faces.”
Since I agree with her, I remain quiet while shadowing her into the locker room to get changed.
The next morning, I wake up with a crook in my neck and an empty apartment.
Caleb left a note on the refrigerator to announce his absence. His message is more detailed than the Dear John letter I got from Jack yesterday afternoon.
Jack had some special guests arrive last night. He needs me to show them around today. Won’t be back until late, but here’s my share of the pizza.
A twenty-dollar bill is tacked under his note.
After snatching his share of our pizza off the refrigerator, I trudge to the bathroom, confident the promise of greasy food and a long shower will be the only things keeping me motivated since Jack ditched me for someone else.
“I’m not comfortable with the assumptions you’re making, Grant. If Jack…” I inwardly curse myself. “If Mr. Carson wants to let Slade go, it will be for a legitimate reason. It also isn’t my prerogative to overturn his decisions.”
“But you can. The hiring and firing of staff is solely your responsibility.”
“That isn’t true. Ja… Mr. Carson is the CEO of this company. He does not need to follow the chain of command when it comes to his staff. He can fire anyone he wants. Me included.”
Grant tosses an employee file onto my desk. “Yeah, all to suit his own objectives.” He shoves his fingers through his spiked hair, making it stand on end even more. “He bought SS to suppress us. To drown out our right of free speech.” I attempt to interrupt him, but his next set of words lodge mine in my throat. “If you don’t believe me, read Slade’s file. He was preparing a feature on Jack when we were bought out. He doesn’t know who, but Slade is reasonably sure someone tipped Jack off about the story.”
When I peer at the file, my curiosity getting the best of me, I spot nothing but pages and pages of redacted files. “There’s nothing in this but a handful of names.”
“Exactly,” Grant exclaims with his hands thrown in the air. “Since Jack now owns this company, employee confidentiality and the NDA formed under that means not a snippet of Slade’s feature can be publicly aired.” He settles his temper a smidge before trying another angle. “In all honesty, I don’t care what skeletons Jack has in his closet, but Slade is a good journalist. He is the only decent one we have, but instead of utilizing his skills, Jack let him go.” His tone is neither deceitful nor anger-filled when he mutters, “If you want to save this sinking ship, you need him to overturn his decision.”
Although I want to remain stubborn for the good of Seattle Socialites, I can’t. “I’ll talk to Jack.”
Relief fills Grant’s face. “Thank you, Tivy. I truly appreciate it.”
While returning his smile, I show him out of my office. Nerves are telling me to wait a beat before confronting Jack, but with my conversation with Grant in the forefront of my mind, I head for his still-closed office door instead. It’s been shut all day but more because no one has been game to veer near it. Jack’s fuck-off vibes are strong enough to be felt through soundproof glass.
After rapping my knuckles on the highly varnished wooden door, I peer through the glass separating Jack from his workers. I don’t know if it is relief that passes through his eyes when he spots me or concern, but whatever it is, he signals for me to enter his office after exhaling a big breath.
“Hey.” I hate the lowness of my voice. Absolutely loathe it. “I need to speak to you about Slade.”
“His removal from Seattle Socialites is not up for discussion.”
His abruptness startles me but not enough to stop me from seeking clarification. “Why?”
Jack stops scribbling his name on the bottom of some forms before peering up at me. Regret is featured in his eyes, but it isn’t his strongest emotion. Protection is, which is odd. “Because I said so, and my position awards me the courtesy of not needing to disclose a reason.”
“Is it because of the article he was writing about you?”
Fury isn’t an emotion I’ve ever seen Jack wear before now. “You read that?”
“No.” I toss Slade’s folder onto Jack’s desk with the intensity Grant did to mine. “But if you’re truly worried about what he knows getting out, why let him go? Why not use the company’s NDA as a way to suppress what he knows? When he leaves Seattle Socialites, you can’t stop him from writing that article for another company.”