Heat floods her cheeks and she looks down. “No. I was…pretty desperate.”
Arlene exhales through her nose. “See? I told you. They must receive their own copy, or it isn’t fair.” She says this to Harlan in a scolding voice, but now she turns to Chelsea, her voice softer. “Well, here is a copy for you now. You can read it yourself, but please allow me to condense the part that’s important today. Is it correct that Harlan here made a pass at you last night?”
Chelsea looks at the table, glances at the paper, fiddles with the cool silver pen. She does not want to lose this job, but she also doesn’t want to lie or lose any protections the papers in front of her might offer.
“Kind of.”
Arlene nods. “That’s what he told me.”
“It wasn’t…aggressive, or predatory, or…” Chelsea struggles for the word. “Indecent? It just seemed like an honest mistake. We were talking about an emotional subject.”
Across the table, Harlan holds himself so carefully, his lips pinned shut. It’s a revelation to Chelsea, as she would expect a man in his place to talk over her, to offer excuses, to say she was asking for it, to write it off as a joke. That’s what David and his friends would do, and they’re the only men Chelsea has been around in almost twenty years.
“That doesn’t make it okay,” Arlene says gently. “So I need to ask you. Do you wish to continue employment with the VFR? I can tell you now that we would very much like you to stay with us, and that you will not be put in this position again.”
Chelsea looks up then, in surprise. Harlan looks sorry, like a little boy who accidentally hit a baseball through a window. Arlene looks like the teacher who caught him doing it but knows he didn’t mean any harm. And that would normally leave Chelsea feeling like the window, but this time…she feels more like the person who owns the window.
“I’d like to stay on,” she says softly. “If it won’t be weird. Am I in trouble?”
Arlene turns to her swiftly, puts a hand on her wrist. “Honey, no. Of course not. You did absolutely nothing wrong. You did a fine job in your first match, and your quick thinking and courage in helping that poor woman who was storming saved lives on the floor and brought us a great deal of positive publicity. Make no mistake: We want you here.”
Even though it takes every ounce of self-control she has, Chelsea forces herself to look at Harlan, right in the eyes. “You’re not mad?”
Harlan huffs a chuckle. “Ms. Martin, you’re the one who should be mad. What I did was very much against workplace ethics.”
“I’m confused. I thought we operated outside the law?”
“There’s us dealing with the government and their post-Covid rules, and then there’s us acting as an employer of a growing number of people, who may or may not be listed as contractors instead of with their real titles. Point being, you’ll get a 1099 and pay your taxes, even if some of the numbers are fudged.” Harlan’s big finger points at the papers in front of Chelsea. “This protects the VFR, but it also protects you. After seeing what Rayna went through working her way up to the ring, I swore I’d never let a woman be preyed upon in any business I was tied up in. Even if I was the one causing the problem. So we’re going to make this right.”
Arlene puts up a hand. “Let me handle this part, please, before Mr. Big Heart owes you an RV of your own. How would you like to move forward?”
Chelsea sucks in a breath. “What do you mean?”
“What are your demands?” Harlan asks.
Arlene warningly aims a finger at his face and he moves back from it as if she has superpowers.
“The paperwork you’ve signed promises a safe working environment. If this were a different kind of business, you could go talk to HR, file a complaint, possibly take us to court.”
Because a man who could have nearly any woman he wanted tried to kiss me? Chelsea thinks but definitely does not say.
“But since we’re here and I’m basically the HR department, we’d like to know how we can make your working environment more agreeable.” Arlene’s eyebrows rise, and a small smile plays around her mouth. “Within reason.”
“I need a phone and phone service,” Chelsea says first, because that’s the thing she thinks about constantly. “Today. It doesn’t have to be fancy, but I need phone, texting, email. And I’d love to be able to watch a show at night on a tablet or something.”
“Okay,” Arlene says, nodding. “A work-issued phone seems very reasonable for an upcoming star of the VFR. Anything else?”
Chelsea’s mind is going a mile a minute, weighing the various benefits and drawbacks of asking too much, asking too little, and considering how awkward it would be, seeing Harlan every day. Judging by this RV and his previous career and the capital it must take to get the VFR up and running, he’s a very wealthy man—or maybe he has great investors. Still, she likes this job, and she doesn’t want any bad blood.
Really, there’s only one thing she really, truly needs more than anything else.
“I want the vaccine. Soon. And to be able to support my girls. If we do well enough one day, I’d like to bring them along with us, if this is a long-term thing, but the main reason I said yes to this job was because I can’t be around my daughters until I’m safe.”
“We’re working on it—” Arlene starts.
“I don’t have the cash yet,” Harlan admits, deadly serious, which is a relief as she was worried he’d laugh at her. “I have investors I have to pay back. The last year has drained me, and I can’t sell my dumb Miami mansion in this market, and…well, I flat out don’t have the money. But I have feelers out, and I assure you that the very first thing on my list when the VFR hits even bigger is not a new truck or a private jet for myself. It’s to vaccinate every one of our fighters as thanks for taking this chance on me and my dream, just like I promised from the beginning.”
“Then I want better security. And a raise,” Chelsea says, amazed at her own audacity and at the firm command of her voice. Over the past few years, it began to feel as if all her sentences ended on question marks, because it’s easier to take back a question than a statement with a man like David.
Harlan holds in a laugh. “I’ve got two security guys for the talent starting this week with more to come. But honey, you don’t even have a salary yet.”
Chelsea shrugs, playing it cool. “So give me a salary, and then raise it. And then take me back to Target so I can buy some more clothes. And, you know, access to more than one washer and dryer per twelve people would be nice.”
Harlan can’t help himself; he throws back his head and laughs. “Hot damn, Florida Woman. That’s some moxie right there! Arlene, does that sound reasonable to you?”