10. You Are Complicit
10
YOU ARE COMPLICIT
BASIL
I watched the video twice. Then a third time, because apparently, I had a masochistic streak I didn’t know about.
The first time, I felt defensive. A knee-jerk reaction.
The second time, I felt bad.
By the third, I was ready to hurl.
Summer’s friends weren’t trashing me or tearing me apart. I’d dismissed them as less than, but they weren’t smug about our breakup. They were disappointed in me and for Summer.
This conversation was completely different from the one I’d had with my friends where they’d basically called Summer a gold digger and decided I was better off without her. One so-called friend had even hit on me right after—and let’s not forget had done what she could to break Summer and me up.
My fingers flexed around my phone as I stared at the last frame where Ocean shook his head as if he felt bad for me. I let out a slow, shaky breath and tossed my phone onto the nightstand.
I spent years thinking my friends were great, believing their bullshit was just part of the culture we lived in—relentless ambition, hard edges, a dog-eat-dog world where no one had time for sensitivity. I told myself Summer just didn’t get it, that she was too judgmental.
I didn’t see then what I saw now with clear eyes after my woman left me.
Now I knew how Felix spoke to her, how Drew treated her, and how my so-called friends laughed behind her back, belittling the woman I claimed to love while I stood there, oblivious, soaking in their approval like it meant something. I’d let it happen. And worse, I’d been a part of it.
Summer must have loved me a whole hell of a lot to put up with this abuse for two years. Two whole years while I was happy as a clam, thinking about marriage and kids—while she was probably waiting for me to finally pull my head out of my ass.
I put my elbows on my knees and pressed the heels of my hands against my eyes.
I slept like shit—but then I’d been sleeping like shit since my woman left my bed and me. I missed Summer. I missed the way she snuggled up to me. I missed the way she woke me up some mornings, her mouth sucking me off, the way I woke her up some mornings, sliding into her warmth. I missed having breakfast with her. I missed taking a shower with her. I missed lazy Sunday mornings when she opened the store at eleven.
Since I wasn’t getting much sleep anyway, I began to formulate a future strategy for Stratos—not just product development but cultural progression. If people in the company thought there was nepotism, the best of the best wouldn’t work at Stratos, and I wouldn’t be able to retain my existing top performers.
By the time I walked into work, I was wide awake, wired (after four cups of coffee), and ready with a plan.
My assistant barely had time to greet me before I requested her to get our company counsel into my office. Fifteen minutes later, Thomas Greer sat across from me, laptop and coffee cup in hand.
“So, where’s the fire since your assistant made me move a deposition,” he asked curiously.
“I need help with employment law.”
“Don’t we all.”
I chuckled. “What if I, hypothetically, need to exit two senior executives.”
He arched an eyebrow. “ Hypothetically , who and why?”
I exhaled, gripping the arms of my chair for a moment and released. I turned my laptop toward him. “I want you to watch some videos. I’ll leave you to freshen my coffee. You want some?”
“Sure.”
I took my time, chatted with my assistant about moving some meetings around, and by the time I came back in, Greer was sitting with his fingers steepled and eyes furrowed.
I set his coffee in front of him and took my seat.
“That was a shitshow,” he stated.
“Yes.”
His mouth pressed into a thin line. Then he let out a slow breath and picked up the fresh coffee I got for him. He drank some and then set the cup on my desk.
“It’s bad. Unprofessional, inappropriate, and frankly, embarrassing for the company. If this had reached the wider Stratos audience or the public at large, we’d be in damage-control mode.”
My jaw ticked. “Jessie made sure anything unprofessional was removed before the photos and videos were shared.”
“You should give her a raise,” he suggested. “I’m most disappointed in Felix. I know the man, think he’s a friend, and he got that drunk at a company meeting? It’s unacceptable. He’s the CHRO. Allowing this kind of behavior to persist—participating in it—is offensive. He’s supposed to enforce standards, not degrade people. And the way Drew”—he frowned, giving a slight shake of his head—“spoke about Summer, about your relationship—it’s wildly inappropriate, especially given that we’re promoting her. I’ll tell you this now, this undermines her credibility and yours if you go through with the promotion.”
Nothing he said surprised me. I’d thought all this through.
“What are my options?” I asked.
Greer gave me a measured look. “Legally, they need to get a warning, for starters. If they misbehave again, you document everything, and then we can fire them with minimal risk. On the other hand, these are senior executives, so we expect a higher standard of behavior.”
“How much damage have I done blurring the lines between friendship and professionalism?”
He shrugged. “That’s a tricky spot, isn’t it? But people become friends with their colleagues; it happens everywhere. But, yeah, that’ll cost you in dollars.” He held my gaze. “If you want a clean break, you’ll have to buy them out.”
I clenched my teeth, like hell, I wanted to give them money. “And if I don’t?”
“They stay. They continue to behave like assholes and poison the company. And that?” He gestured to the laptop. “Makes you complicit in their past and future bad acts.”
Terms like crossroads and wake-up calls are clichés for a reason. Everyone experiences them. So, here I was at a crossroads, my wake-up call still spinning my head.
Greer’s voice softened. “Look, Basil. You built this company. It’s a damn good one, or I wouldn’t work here. But it’s time for you to decide what kind of leader you want to be.”
I already knew, but I asked him the same question because I valued his opinion: “What are my choices?”
“You be the CEO of the company and lead us all. Or you stay friends with people like Felix and Drew, who, in my opinion, if they don’t apologize and promise to change behavior after they see the video are not worthy.”
I nodded. “I appreciate your candor, Greer.” I pushed the laptop aside and met his gaze. “So, here is my plan, let me know what I can or can’t do legally. And let’s draft exit packages.”
“I’ll make sure it’s airtight. So, what’s your plan?”
I told him, and he helped me navigate it legally so I didn’t fuck up any more than I already had.