2. Matt
2
MATT
I leaned back in my chair and tossed my phone to my desk.
Seeing good news was a heck of a way to end the workday. Actually, today wasn’t a workday, or it shouldn’t have been. Not many were in the office this Sunday afternoon, but I’d needed to tend to a few things. I always needed to deal with work, but wrapping up my work with the good news I just read really felt good. It felt promising.
Those posts about our rival being dropped from a highly sought-after client could be like a boon for us.
“I’m just saying, it would really be good if Gammon chose us now that they fired DuPont,” John said. My friend wasn’t thoroughly up-to-date with client acquisitions. Why would he be, as the head of HR? However, he was one of my oldest and closest friends, and even he was aware of the long-standing rivalry between Richards and DuPont.
“But it’s no guarantee.” I pointed at my phone, where I had been scrolling through the facts that Gammon Industries, a mega corporation, had let go of DuPont LLC. “They dropped them from one PR campaign, citing dissatisfaction, but they are still hiring them for a couple of other accounts.”
John shrugged. “Smaller ones, though.” He couldn’t hold back on a grin. “This is a huge opportunity, to have them shopping around and considering us at all.”
I nodded, stacking my hands behind my head. The diagonal angle in my chair put a kink in my lower back, and I hated the reminder that I, once again, was sitting at the office too much. I put in a lot of hours. As one of the highest department managers, I had to be a workaholic. That was all my grandmother had raised me to be, anyway. Still, a better balance between my physical health and productivity had to be possible.
If I could get Gammon as a client, that’d be the pinnacle of my productivity…
“Yeah, but have you looked at what they’re shopping around for? What they want a new branding for?” A slight cringe crossed my face. I couldn’t help it. I liked to think I could sell anything to anyone. No matter how good my persuasive skills were, there was no denying I had zero experience or knowledge about baby products.
“I will admit that specific line of products is not your, uh, forte,” John admitted. “But that doesn’t matter. You’re a natural at marketing anything .” His smile widened as he stuck a finger up to emphasize another point. “And this new hire starting tomorrow will help tremendously.”
“To sell baby bottles and diapers and shit?” I huffed. “Why? Does she have a ton of kids to be able to speak from experience?”
He shook his head, but he didn’t lose his enthusiasm. “No. I think she’s probably too young to have a ton of kids. But she’s bright, Matt. I’m telling you. I’ve never felt so confident about offering a job to someone like I was with this woman.”
“If she’s so young, how can she know anything?”
“Trust me,” he said, nodding once as he stood from the chair across from me. “She’ll do well.”
I hope.
He wasn’t wrong. Picking up a client like Gammon would really be something else. As a hefty bonus, we’d be putting Aaron DuPont and his company to shame. I’d never cared for the weasel. We’d been instant enemies ever since attending Havard together. Now, it was like swimming with sharks in the corporate world.
I’d have to wait for another opportunity to talk with my friend about getting Gammon as a client. Or anything else. Behind him, I caught sight of my grandmother approaching my all-glass office door. While it provided zero privacy, having all glass walls and doors—at least on this executive floor where my place was—it felt freeing. Transparency was key in the business world, and I knew without a doubt that I had nothing to hide in here.
Including my presence for my grandmother to prey on.
“Am I interrupting?” she asked as she rapped her knuckles twice, quietly, on the open door.
John turned around, smiling at her. Most were afraid of the top boss here at Richards Consultation. He’d been around long enough to know her in and out of the office, recognizing her not only as our boss, but also as the relative of his best friend.
“Wendy,” he greeted. “Am I in the way?”
She shook her head, and not a single gray hair swayed with the motion. As always, she was put together, not a single detail out of place. “No. Never, John.” She faced me, almost smiling. Showing emotions seemed to be a personal flaw to her, and as such, she never dared to expose that much about herself.
Prim. Proper. Head held high, hands clasped in front of her, and back ramrod straight. My grandmother was a stern businesswoman with high expectations, and I could see why many would be intimidated.
But not me. I was probably the only person in this entire building who would ever take the risk of asking her for something. And it was time for me to try that feat again. Daily, I asked about the implication that she’d retire soon, that I’d be promoted to CEO in her place.
“I wished to speak with Matthew for a moment,” she said plainly.
“Oh, no worries.” John backed up, holding his hands in the air like a surrender. “I was just stopping by to gossip?—”
“ Gossip ?” she drawled, smirking.
“About Gammon dropping DuPont.”
“Ah.” She took another step toward my desk. “That’s not gossip . That’s nothing more than sharing news. Facts.”
John nodded as he reached the door. He pulled it with him to close it after his exit, but not before parting with more words. “And good news, potentially, for us!”
Once we were alone, but easily seen through all the walls and doors, my grandmother took the seat he’d vacated. “Do you agree?” she asked coolly, simply, as though we were discussing the weather or something else mundane and bland.
“Do I agree with what?”
“That Gammon shopping around is potentially good news for us.”
I smiled, dropping my feet from the elevated massager shelf beneath my desk. I swore to God, those rolling balls and kneading bars that spun worked miracles on my feet.
For fuck’s sake. I’m only thirty-eight. Not sixty-eight. With all these aches and pains, I was either working out too hard in infrequent bursts to set myself up for strains or I was cooped in the office for too long.
“Yes, I do agree with that. John and I were just talking about how exciting it is that they’re displeased with DuPont.”
She allowed a slight hint of emotion now. A minor huff and faint roll of her eyes showed me what her opinions were of our oldest rival. They mirrored mine. Any chance to stick it to the DuPont firm was a thrilling opportunity.
“I’m not surprised,” she replied calmly. “They slacked and didn’t provide good outcomes for the last big campaign they hired them for.”
I nodded, but I rubbed my chin, pensive about her comment. “But they are still retaining them for some work.”
“Of course. They will keep their options open, perhaps waiting to see if they’ll wizen up.”
“Or not.”
“Or not,” she agreed. “Are you going to prepare a team to pursue them?”
“I’m already on it. John thinks a new hire will help immensely.”
She nodded. “Sure, it will. It’s a shame Janice left recently.”
“In other news,” I said, figuring that she had to be done with her version of “gossip” with me, “how about letting me have the CEO title?”
Every day, I hinted at it. Each time I saw her toward the end of the day before she left, I’d slip in a mention. Since her comment at her seventieth birthday party in the spring, I’d been eager to hear her plans about the job she held.
So far, she hadn’t budged at all. Never mind the fact that I’d worked for the company, the one my late grandfather started, then both my parents worked at until they passed away in a plane crash, for twenty years. The day I turned eighteen, I was working here. Two decades were plenty of time to invest before the final promotion to the top.
Isn’t it?
She lifted her chin, regal and quiet as she stared at me. “Do you think you are ready for it?”
“I’ve been ready.”
“Fine.”
My jaw dropped. I planted my hands on the edge of my desk as I tried to let her simple and direct confirmation sink into my brain. Did she seriously just say yes ?
“You get Gammon as our newest client, and you’ll have the job.”
Dammit.
I knew there’d be a catch. She didn’t make anything simple or easy.
“If you can land Gammon as a solid client, I think you’d prove your worth.”
In the back of my mind, I wanted to scream. Wasn’t I already worthy enough? Hadn’t I poured my blood, sweat, and tears into this company for twenty years already? I didn’t want her to give me the job. Nepotism wasn’t ideal, and I did want to earn the role of CEO based on merit, nothing else.
But Gammon? For a baby product campaign?
I stifled a groan.
“Is that a deal, Matthew?” She stood, arching a brow at me.
“Is that what you came here to tell me?” I asked, wondering if there was a loophole or twist about her proposal.
She nodded, succinct and precise with even that gesture. Wendy Richards was not a frivolous woman—at all. She was also not a liar or a cheat, so I was certain this had to be a legitimate suggestion for how to be promoted.
“Then it’s a deal.”
“Good.” Without another word, seemingly satisfied with our discussion, she turned and left.
Not a full minute passed before John burst back into my office. He shut the door, excited as he looked at me over his shoulder. “Did she seriously just offer you the CEO spot if you got Gammon?”
I squinted at him. “How the hell do you know that?”
“I’ve been practicing reading lips. Remember, a deaf woman moved in next to me?”
“Right.”
“Did she?”
“She did.” As soon as the words left my mouth, I stood, too surprised and excited to sit still. “CEO, man.”
“Just like you’ve wanted for so long.”
“As long as I get Gammon to go with us…” I raked my hand through my hair and then gripped it. “Fuck. I’ve got to land a client who wants an ad campaign for baby products ?” The thought of researching and analyzing that crap made me nervous. I was a bachelor. I had no nieces or nephews. Not even a neighbor with a kid. I was my grandmother’s only surviving relative, an only child of an only child. I was it. If she wanted to pass the family legacy on and keep the company in the family, I had to be the CEO.
“You can do it,” John encouraged. “Your team can do it.”
I winced, trying to envision the success. I couldn’t see it, though, because my mind was already cluttered with so many other things to do first.
“Come on. Let’s go get a drink. You need to blow off some steam. I mean, look at us, in the office on a freaking Sunday.”
I frowned. “Blow off some steam?”
“Yeah,” he said, stubborn as he grabbed my arm and led me toward the door. I’d been ready to head out, but I wasn’t sure about going anywhere other than my apartment.
“The last thing you need to do is go home and dwell on this challenge. Let’s get a drink and talk about how to make it work.”
“Let me get this straight.” I glanced at him as I shut my office door behind us. “You’re constantly chiding me for working too much, and now you’re persuading me to go out to… talk about work?”
“Well, it’s not like you’d have anything else on your mind.” He rolled his eyes. “Use me as a sounding board in the meantime. Whatever helps. Because the notion of your going home and pacing all night while you think a mile a minute can’t be healthy. You’ll be like a dog after a bone to get Gammon as a client.”
That’s right. I would be. I’d been growing impatient for a change in my life, for something new like the CEO position. And if getting a specific client was the ticket to welcome that change into my life, then so be it.
I was determined to succeed. And not a single distraction would make me stray from my goals.
“I’ll commit to one hour,” I conceded while wondering why we couldn’t just have a drink at my place and hang out there in the privacy of my home.
He nodded. “Sure, bro. We won’t be out for long.”
Whatever you say.