“Dude, my balls just shivered,” JP says, gripping my shoulder.
“My penis totally just turtled.” I step to the side and push JP forward. “You first, you’re older. You’ve experienced more life than me.”
“Barely,” he says, trying to move me toward the exit first, but I plant my feet on the floor and hold steady. Since JP’s been married, I’ve spent more time at the gym while he’s spent more time in Kelsey—with all due respect—so I have a few pounds of muscle over him at the moment.
“Just get out there before he gets even madder.” I push at JP. “You know how he hates when we—in his terms—clown around.”
“Quit clowning around,” Huxley yells.
“See,” I whisper-shout.
“Don’t push me,” JP says, leaning his weight into me, his back to my chest. “You’re going to make me tumble down the stairs.”
“Oh, good idea. If you tumble down, then there’s a good chance you could get injured, and whatever he’s here for will be put on a momentary pause while we assess your injuries. That will give us some thinking time. And maybe if you’re willing to break a bone, that will grant us at least a few days.”
“Oh yeah, let me just throw myself down the stairs.”
“That’s the spirit,” I say while patting him on the back. “Close your eyes. It will be over in a second.”
“Jesus Christ,” JP mutters before he makes his way down the stairs.
I follow closely. “Oh, I see, going to fall closer to the ground. Smart.”
“I’m not going to fall, you idiot.”
When we reach the ground, Huxley opens the back car door to his Tesla S and says, “Get in.”
I can hear JP gulp as I say, “You sure you don’t want to at least fake an injury?”
“I think it’s too late, man,” he says as he climbs into the car, and I follow.
Once we’re in the back, Huxley slams the door, causing JP and me to flinch. When Huxley climbs in the front seat, he doesn’t bother to look at us. Instead, he grips the steering wheel and lets out a long, pent-up breath.
A sigh of discontent. Great.
After a few seconds, he turns to face us and says, “Has Taylor been in touch with you?”
“Taylor, as in our lawyer?” JP asks.
“Yes, our lawyer.”
We shake our heads. “No, I haven’t gotten anything,” I say.
“What’s going on?” JP asks, his voice growing serious.
“We’re being sued for misconduct in the workplace.”
“What?” I shout. “By whom?”
Huxley lifts his sunglasses, and his eyes narrow in on me. “Your former employee.”
“Uh, excuse me?” I blink a few times. “What the hell for?”
“Let’s see, hostile work environment and wrongful termination.”
“Wait.” I shake my head, trying to get a grip on what he’s saying. “Who the hell was this?”
“Gemma Shoemacher.”
“Shoemacher?” I ask, eyes wide and disbelief heavy in my tone. “As in the girl who would secretly slip into my office, rearrange my shit, hang up pictures of her relatives, decorate for holidays, and then just leave? The absolute psycho who would corner me in the break room and ask me when my next dentist appointment was so she could watch me get my teeth cleaned? The girl who made me an advent calendar for Christmas and inside each box was homemade thumbnail drawings of me? That girl?”
“Were the drawings good?” JP asks.
“How the fuck is that relevant?” I ask him, losing my temper.
JP shrugs. “Just genuinely curious.”
“I mean . . . watercolor on a small surface is quite difficult, so maybe—”
“Enough about the paintings,” Huxley says. “This is fucking serious. Not only has she sued us, but she’s also soiling our reputation on social media. She’s spreading lies about how we conduct business and how Breaker created a hostile environment for her and berated her in front of fellow employees.”
“That’s not fucking true,” I say. “I was never hostile, even when she ‘accidentally’ tripped me while I was holding my morning coffee. I’ve been nothing but kind to that woman, and the reason she was let go was that we found out she was the one going around to everyone’s office and stealing their daily to-do lists. She had a whole collection of them filed away in her desk.”
“Well, she’s spinning a story and attacking our business, and unfortunately, she’s getting attention.”
“What does that mean?” I ask.
“It means, because she’s using the right platforms, she’s getting tons of views and now, media coverage. This has happened in the past twenty-four hours.”
“How the hell does that happen?” JP asks.
Huxley shakes his head. “No fucking clue, but we’re fielding calls about it. Lottie said she heard some employees talking about it in the break room before quieting down as she entered. We’re losing credibility by the second.”
“Because someone is lying,” I say, anger heavy in my voice.
“Yes, but the public seems to be clinging to her story. Therefore, we need to take action while Taylor and his team gather evidence for a countersuit. She has no leg to stand on, no evidence, just her word and her friend who doesn’t work for us anymore. But we have security footage, we have the evidence that you’ve gathered, Breaker, over time, and we have all of her social media posts that have been screen recorded. Defamation will be what takes her down.”
“Okay, so . . . what should we do?” I ask.
“For one, you need to take a step back.”
“What?” I roar. “No fucking way. I’m not resigning because someone spreads lies about me. That makes me look guilty, and I’m not guilty. I’ve been nothing but respectful and professional to that woman.”
“I’m not talking about resigning,” Huxley says, his jaw growing tight. “We just need you to take . . . a mandatory vacation. Just so it looks like we’re doing the right thing while we investigate her allegations, which means you need to not be in the office.”
“That’s bullshit—”
“He’s right,” JP says. “If this was with any other employee, we’d ask them to go on sabbatical while we investigate the allegations. You shouldn’t be treated any different.”
“But I didn’t fucking do anything,” I say.
“We know,” Huxley says. “But just because we know you’re innocent doesn’t mean everyone will believe it. We’re in sensitive waters here, and we need to make sure we exercise due diligence in the investigation. If we do this right, conduct the investigation correctly, then hopefully it will set a precedent for any future employees who try to do the same.”
“I’m afraid to say it,” JP adds, “but he’s right, man.”
I glance back and forth between my brothers, letting their common sense sink in. “Fuck,” I mutter as I lean back against the seat and push my hand through my hair.
“It’s for the best, Breaker,” Huxley says. “And while you’re gone, we’ll be sure to split up your responsibilities between me and JP.”
“Hey now, I didn’t agree with that,” JP says but then quickly quiets when Huxley gives him a scathing look.