Calm Before the Storm

Boyd

Joel eyes me as I approach his desk, then lifts his arm to check his watch. I’m ten minutes later than I agreed to. My stop in Sophie’s office was unplanned, but now my actual plan has changed.

“Good afternoon, Joel. Sorry I’m late. I had to take a detour.” Not a lie.

“Mr. McNamara will be a moment. He had to take a phone call. I’ll let you know when he’s ready for you.”

After thanking him, I turn toward the waiting area. I pull out my phone to check my emails, clicking on a few spam messages to delete, then scrolling social media, looking at lawyer memes and photos Phoebe has posted of Grace.

“He’ll see you now.”

Henry McNamara made me wait for twelve minutes, and I can’t help but wonder if that was intentional. A man like him probably doesn’t take well to waiting. It wouldn’t surprise me if he was trying to regain the upper hand. But I don’t care how much power and money he has, he’s not playing me.

I walk into his office and stop short inside the door. “Mr. McNamara, thank you for seeing me.”

He doesn’t look up from his spot under the massive McNamara Enterprises sign. After one real conversation with the man, even the size of his office signage comes across as an intentional choice to boost his own inflated ego. Like he needs a reminder whose name is on the lease for the three floors of this building his company occupies.

“You’ve thrown off my schedule for the day, Mr. Edwards, so I hope you have good news for me.”

Depends on your definition of good news… but I keep that comment to myself. “I’ve reconsidered your offer,” I reply, moving farther into the unwelcoming space. I imagine entering this office feels a lot like my father described walking in for a prostate exam. A moderately vulnerable feeling and wishing you were anywhere else.

He glances at me from behind a pair of angry, narrowed eyes. “My offer no longer stands.”

That doesn’t shock me like I’m assuming he hoped it would, but it doesn’t make sense why he’d agree to meet with me again.

“Can I ask why you allowed me to come all the way down here just to tell me that? You could have declined my request for a meeting.”

Henry stands, leaning over his desk, much like how his daughter did moments earlier. It would probably infuriate Henry to know that Sophie is ten times more intimidating. With him, I don’t even flinch.

“Because I wanted to waste your time like you wasted mine. And I wanted to see the look on your face when you realized your grades can only get you so far in this world, boy. You needed to learn a lesson, and I’m happy to be the one to teach you.”

Once upon a time, I had a flicker of respect for the CEO of McNamara Enterprises because I know he started this company from scratch and turned it into an empire. But he will not rule over me.

“I hate to disappoint you, Henry.”

His piercing gaze radiates even more hatred when I use his first name in the same way he called me “boy”.

“I actually came here to tell you off. For no other reason than because you’re a misogynistic prick who sees his daughter as a prop to win over perverts and impotent morons foolish enough to keep themselves under your thumb.”

His jaw clenches as tight as his fists, and part of me hopes he’ll punch me so I can really dismantle him, but that would be too easy. He knows it. No one gets to the position he’s in by doing their dirty work themselves.

He grates out through gritted teeth, “Boy, I can crush every opportunity for you in this town before you even pass the bar. Don’t come in here and tell me how to run my business. And certainly do not tell me how to parent my daughter.”

I almost laugh at his use of the word “parent”. “You may think you have the power to destroy me, Henry, but along with building your business, you’ve built a reputation. Not a single person I’d be interested in working for would take your ego-induced tantrum seriously.” With zero desire to drag this conversation out, I turn to leave and repeat, “I’ll see myself out.”

“You have no idea what kind of enemy you’ve made. In twenty-four hours, you won’t be able to find a job on Desolation Island.”

I turn my head over my shoulder to look at the reddening face of the worst malignant narcissist I’ve ever had the displeasure of meeting. “I’d be more concerned about the glaciers surrounding that island you call a heart, Henry.” With great satisfaction, I exit his office to the sound of him slamming something on his desk.

Again, I’m met by Joel’s startled expression, so I stop to apologize. I feel bad for the man, but it’s not like I can ride through the office like Paul Revere, warning of the impending danger. I can’t make people quit just to sabotage Henry. As much as I value right and wrong, I understand that it’s not a cut and dry situation for everyone who relies on this job to survive.

I can’t push Sophie to, either. I respect what she’s doing to protect the other women who work here, but if they collectively stood up to Henry, they could make more waves than any one person would on their own. But this isn’t my job. It’s not my decision. The futures of Sophie, the other employees, and McNamara Enterprises are out of my hands.

So I do the only thing I can do and descend in the elevator, exit the building, and head to the one job that rarely gets more complicated than balancing three cups with two hands.

Four days have passed since my confrontation with Henry. The one thing he was right about is that grades can only get me so far, but I’ve got plenty to keep me busy between now and my call to the bar in June. Once that is over, I’ll take job searching seriously. Right now, I have to focus on my training and doing the job that actually pays my bills.

Fulfilling orders is automatic. I’m so familiar with our menu, as soon as an order comes up, I know exactly which caffeine source to grab, which cup, and which equipment I’ll need. My mind flies through each request on auto-pilot, never giving anyone a second glance after passing them their drinks.

Until one flashes on the screen: 10oz flat white – Sophie.

I can’t help but look up after seeing her name. It is a common name and a popular order. But that’s definitely Sophie McNamara giving me a shy smile from the other side of the pastry display.

The weather has turned, so it’s a bit cooler and windy today. She’s wearing a trench coat that’s the same colour as the drink I’m making her. Beyond that, I can only see her windswept hair falling in loose waves around her face.

Not for the first time, I realize I thought a lot about her over the past few days. Wondered if she had decided to cut ties with her father and strike out on her own, or if she was still suffering under his command. As angry as I was with her for lying to me before, now that I’ve been in Henry’s company for more than ten seconds, I get it. A lowly barista would never hold up to his impossible standards and, for some reason, Sophie values his opinion even when he doesn’t value her existence.

Instead of passing her the piping hot cup, making a joke at her expense about its temperature, and continuing on with my day, I signal to Tessa that I’m going to take a break. Her questioning smirk tells me she’s got the wrong impression and I probably have Monica to thank for that.

I walk around the counter, stopping three feet in front of Sophie. “Hey. Do you have a minute to sit?”

She pulls her phone from her coat pocket and checks the screen before replying, “Sure. I have about ten.”

We both appear unsure when deciding on a table. She moves for the one she sat at with her brother, and I head toward the one I sat at with Celeste. We settle on one halfway between.

“How’s my buddy Wilson?” I ask as Sophie sets her drink down and unbuttons her coat, revealing a burgundy two-piece skirt suit.

Her lips tilt into a grin as she sits. “He’s good. My neighbour spoils him rotten when I’m not home.”

“Celeste? Yeah, she seems to really love him.”

Sophie leans back on her stool, spinning her cup on the table. “Right. You’ve met.”

I grimace, noting her annoyed tone. It doesn’t sound like she’s angry, but she isn’t pleased about Celeste coming to speak with me.

“She really loves you, too. Just so you know. That’s the only reason she came to me.” I hope the sincerity I’m trying to portray with my eyes is getting the message across. “Besides, if someone had to go toe to toe with Henry McNamara, I’m glad I can say it was me.”

Sophie’s already uncomfortable demeanour turns sombre. The corners of her lips droop, her shoulders slump, and her eyes refocus on her coffee cup. “He didn’t tell me what you said, but I figured it wasn’t good. You shouldn’t have done that.”

For the first time since my verbal sparring with Henry, I consider the ramifications of my words reaching beyond me. I wonder if he took it out on Sophie, since my first meeting with him was the catalyst for his initial comments Celeste told me about.

That thought, in turn, makes me question Sophie’s presence here. “Are you here for retribution? Or to make me apologize? Because I wo—”

“No.” Her eyes flick up to me as she exhales a long breath. “I don’t know why I’m here, actually.”