Reluctantly, the guys moseyed in, their gazes flicking to me in question. I had no idea what the shrew was about to say, so I rolled my eyes in answer. Marcus entered last, remaining by the door, leaning against it to hold it open, his arms crossed over his chest. I wanted to laugh—defiant little fucker.
“I asked all of you for four hours on Sunday evening,” she began. “None of you showed up or even bothered to call.”
“It was our night off,” Bowman protested.
“It was my night off, too, yet I was here,” Clara muttered.
“Yeah, but you have no life so . . .” Marcus interjected, earning an exasperated sigh from Clara.
“Let’s be clear,” she ignored him, taking the high road, and continued, “I am a college educated woman. I can find another job if I want to.”
“So why don’t you?” Marcus pushed.
“Because I love working with tiny little assholes,” she snapped. I guess she detoured off the high road.
Marcus glared back.
Clara tilted her head as she looked at each and every one of us. “Because this,” she motioned her hand around the room, “was left to me. Half of it, anyway. Now I’m here trying to make it bigger and better, trying to grow this business and y’all seem to think you can ignore me. Well here’s the deal . . . no jumps until we get this office done. If you won’t take me seriously, maybe you’ll take your loss of income seriously.”
“On that note, I’m heading out,” Sap announced. “Good luck, Clara,” he mumbled. I couldn’t tell if he was annoyed with her or me as he marched out the door.
I turned my attention back to Clara. “You can’t do that,” I argued.
“Yes, I can.”
“We’ll schedule around you.”
“She changed the password to the schedule log in the system. I already tried,” Marcus informed me.
Clara looked at me, her hands on her hips, one brow lifted in a perfect arch. She was pretty damn proud of herself.
I stared blankly at her. “Are you serious?”
“You left me no choice.” She shrugged.
“I didn’t realize stopping our income was a choice.”
“We’re partners,” she scolded. “You should be backing me up. I would do it for you.”
“Partners discuss things and make plans together. That’s not what happened here,” I argued.
“You won’t listen to anything I say.” She threw her hands out in frustration. “Every time I come to you with an idea or plan, you shut down and ignore me.” The room was quiet, everyone hanging on every word we spoke.
I could’ve fought her on it. Somehow. But at that point I just wanted to shut her up. If painting the walls did that, I figured let’s get it over with. “All right, guys, we’re painting today.”
They rolled their eyes and groaned, but began looking around trying to figure out where to begin.
“Happy now?” I taunted, giving her an obnoxious bow like a servant would to their queen. “We’re all here, doing as you bid, your majesty.” But it came out rougher than I intended.
Clara’s eyes glossed over a little and she almost seemed to frown. I was being a dick. We all were. At that time, I thought she was just hell-bent on bulldozing us, forcing us to bend to her whims at any cost. Now, I know she wanted to be a part of the business. She wanted to make her mark and feel useful. She was trying to find her place.
We all took our tasks and got to work, ignoring her. Even when we broke for lunch, we left and didn’t invite her. She stayed at the office and kept working. By evening, we’d finished the painting and even though everyone complained and made it clear they hated her for making them be here, she thanked us all, one by one.
We bullshitted in the parking lot for a few minutes while she remained inside and when everyone left, I went back in, realizing I had left my keys on the desk. She was in the office on the phone when I found her. Unaware that I had returned.
Her back was to me as she sat in the office chair, one elbow propped on the desk, her head resting in her hand. “Yes, I’ve looked the papers over and I’m still deciding,” she spoke in a monotone voice into the receiver. Her tone didn’t match her stature; to hear her, you’d have thought she was discussing something irrelevant—something that warranted no emotion. But the way she held her head, her eyes clenched closed, said something entirely different. She was hurting. Badly.
“I’m aware you’re ready to get this done.”
She listened for a moment to whomever she was speaking with before her head shot up and she snapped. “Well you can tell Daisy I have been your wife for the last five years and I’m sorry that our divorce is getting in the way of your romance.”
I was stunned, and my brows rose as a reaction. Shrew was married? She’s getting a divorce? I had been racking my brain wondering what in the hell inspired her to move here and jump into this business she knew nothing about. I guess I’d found my answer.
“Well I’ll sign them when I’m ready,” she stated in a calmer voice. “Give Daisy my best.” Slamming the phone down, she hung her head, her hands clenching the armrests of the chair as she tried to calm herself.