Chapter 7 #2
I can prevaricate, too. Pretending I don't know James has already made an initial offer is part of this strange dance we're doing, me with two left feet, though I’m finding my rhythm.
There is a tiny pause, just long enough to make fear fill my pores.
"You won't even mention it directly to your husband?" he says, and the temperature of his voice drops a few degrees.
James is abusing his power. That's obvious. He's taking advantage of me as an employee to get an unfair advantage in a business negotiation.
And yet, as much as it pains me to admit it, I'm here at Anterdec in part because my sister married his son. If I point out that James is putting me in an impossible position, he could easily note that I got my foot in the door through connections, and he's just doing the same.
Except it's not the same. And he knows it.
James isn't asking this of me because he's clueless. He's manipulating me because he can.
Or at least, he can try.
"I... think it's best if I don't," I answer, hearing my own uncertainty and hating it. "I have to be able to walk into this building on my own merit, not as someone who brings family deals in through a back door. What does general counsel say?"
James lets out a dismissive grunt. The CMO steps in.
"From a risk standpoint, I agree. Any contractual discussions involving family should go through agents. It protects the company and protects Amy."
And Gregory: "Amy is right that we don't want any perception here that her job is tied to her access to Hamish. Going through his agent protects everyone."
On the phone, James exhales.
"Well," he says. "I certainly don't want to make you uncomfortable."
More lies.
"I appreciate that," I say, continuing the charade.
"The crisis plan stands, then." His tone eases. "We will talk again soon. Give my best to Shannon and Hamish."
"Will do," I manage. Funny how he mentions Shannon but not her husband, his own son.
The line clicks off. The light goes dark.
For a few seconds, no one says a word. All the co-regulating I worked hard to establish is gone. Poof.
We've been James McCormicked.
The CMO lets out a low whistle.
"I have never seen anyone say no to him, other than one of his sons."
"You did what we tell clients to do and they never actually do it." General counsel gives me a half smile.
"I felt like I was tripping over every other word," I admit.
"Fooled me. Good work," the CMO says, then pauses. "I think."
They leave. I stay seated in the glass box, Boston sprawled below me in steel and brick, my heart doing its best hummingbird impression. I did the right thing, so why does my skin feel uncomfortable, like someone flayed me and stuck it back on crooked?
I need fresh air.
Outside, winter slaps my cheeks, sharp and clean and exactly what I need.
The Custom House clock tower keeps time as it has for over a century, reminding me that time passes whether you're panicked or calm.
White lights wrap bare branches. A brass band near Faneuil Hall attempts a carol and the tuba loses the key halfway through.
I am Amy Jacoby McCormick, I just said no to James McCormick, and we both lied through our teeth at the company he built from scratch with nothing but hard work, shrewdness, leverage, and narcissism.
I feel icky.
I take out my phone and ground myself the best way I can right now, opening Shannon's text and typing: Your father-in-law is a manipulative asshole
She immediately replies: And water is wet.
Then: What did he do to you?
In front of the CMO and COO pressured me to convince Hamish to take the resort contract. Said I had special leverage as Hamish's bedmate.
Shannon: Gross. BEDMATE?
I instantly feel better.
I know. Gross. Why is he like this?
Because it works, she texts back.
My fingers are starting to get numb from the cold, but I type: I told him no.
My phone rings.
"You WHAT?" Her voice sounds giddy. "You told James no in front of the CMO and COO?"
"Yes," I say in a small voice that I really wish could be bigger.
"Declan is going to eat this up. You told James no. You. You?"
"Why do you sound so surprised?"
"Tell me everything, from the beginning," she insists, breathless, and I recount the meeting.
Once I'm done, she laughs.
"So he's trying to use you to force Hamish to sign a contract that he doesn't want to sign. That's low even for James. In the past, he'd have just moved on, found someone even bigger and better. I'll bet people aren't taking his calls anymore."
"Hey. You make it sound like Hamish is a consolation prize."
"No! This isn't a reflection on Hamish. It's a sign of James's waning power."
"He didn't sound desperate."
"He'd never show it," she scoffs. "But wow. Amy. I am so proud of you."
And just like that, I'm warm again. A cozy, loving feeling travels from my chest to my fingers and toes.
"Thank you." I start tearing up. "I—I just don't want to be Hamish's appendage!" I burst out, the tears fast and fierce and bitter in my nose and throat. "I can't be just the 'and wife' when people talk about me!"
"Oh, honey. You're not."
"But I am, Shannon! Every day at work, there's going to be more of this. It's bad enough that James was the first to make the leap from social comments to work leverage, but it's just going to get worse! Hamish's shadow is long and tall and wide."
I sniff, surprised by my own intensity.
"I get it," she says softly. "Oh, sweetie, I really get it."
"You and Declan run a company together. You're VP. You've achieved so much."
"Amy, when I met Dec, I was working as a mystery shopper for Fokused Shop-Rite. Our apartment kitchen was filled with food samples from the assignments. You and I shared a car that started with a screwdriver."
I laugh while wiping my eyes. My fingers are icicles now.
"I didn't become a vice president of a large corporation because people ignored the fact that I was Declan McCormick's wife," she says. "Once I married him, being invisible to the outside world—or worse, a tool people think they can use to get to him—became part of the relationship terms."
"Oof."
"Too blunt?"
"No. Just... it's weird to hear someone else say out loud what I've been thinking and feeling."
"You can always come to me, Amy."
"I know. In a way, James did me a favor." I laugh, then sniffle.
"Dear God, please don't give that man credit for anything. His ego is big enough already. It could block the sun and cause a new Ice Age."
"No, I mean it made me reach out to you. Thank you."
"YAY! You told James no. You did everything right."
"He tried to trick me, Shannon. He acted like he hadn't already pitched the deal to Hamish."
"Oh, sure. That's James. The rules don't apply to him, and details are whatever you invent to make sure a situation goes your way."
"I feel like a snow globe that's still being shaken."
"You sure that isn't morning sickness finally kicking in?"
"Would you stop? Argh! It's not my fault I'm not sick!"
"No, it's not, but I can be envious, and you can't stop me."
We laugh harder than we should. It feels good.
I walk toward State Street, heels tapping on the uneven sidewalk. My phone buzzes with a text.
How's my favorite pregnant wife?
"Shannon? I have to go. It's Hamish."
"Go talk to your bedmate," she says slyly. "Love you."
"Love you, too."
Back to Hamish: Favorite? You have more than one pregnant wife right now?
Hamish: You're number 12. I'm building a team. In 20 years, we'll dominate the Premier League
Me: That's bigamy. Bigamy times 11. Dodecagamy
Hamish: You're assuming there's only 12 total ;)
I laugh, then reply with: Your uncle just tried to make our pillow talk an official Anterdec communication channel
Hamish: ???
Me: He floated you as the new face of the Belize resort if SpeedLove goes down. Asked me to gently mention it at home. On speaker. Referred to me as your bedmate in front of the CMO and COO
Hamish: That fucking bampot
The relationship between James and Hamish is complicated. Hamish feels indebted to his uncle for helping him financially in his early football years. But also, James is inherently unhappy. And that means Hamish considers it his responsibility to fix that.
For him to refer to his uncle as a bampot is a big deal. I've only ever seen gentle exasperation or eye rolls. Not this.
I reply: I said no
Hamish: My favorite pregnant wife told my arsehole manipulative uncle no? We need to keep you pregnant. It gives you superpowers
A laugh escapes me. I felt like a mess. Lots of "um's"
Hamish: But you did it anyway. Did you tell him to go to Jody?
Me: He acted like he hadn't already. It was so weird. I went along with it but he made it feel slimy. I said it's cleaner if everything goes through your agent. COO backed me.
Hamish: Then you were perfect.
Hamish: He's been trying to use my face for a shareholder perk since I was sixteen. He uses me at parties to draw attention or make himself seem IDK younger?
Hamish: You are not a back door into my contracts. I am not a bullet point on your LinkedIn
My eyes burn as I reply, He acted like I was being difficult
Hamish: Difficult is what they call you when you refuse to make their life easier at your expense
Hamish: We are a team. You, me, baby, and the 17 other pregnant wives
Me: 17 now? You get around
Hamish: :)
I reply, Can one of them be in charge of making pasta? You boil it for too long
Hamish: Of all the things you'd want a sister wife to handle, that's the one you pick?
Tears fill my eyes again, and I make a snap decision. Home. I want to go home to him. I can finish work from there, as long as he remembers to wear pants if he walks in the background behind me on video calls.
I text, Where are you?
He answers, Home. Finished my workout. Went to PT. About to shower.
See you soon, I reply, then tuck my phone away and walk quickly.