3. Hux
3
HUX
“Can we keep today’s meeting short? I need to get back to Dolly’s.”
The smell of fajitas hits my nostrils before my request is even fully out of me, making my mouth water. My silent thank you to Miss Harriett, Hayes’ catering manager, is met with a mental note that I need to give her a big hug as a thank you, because I know without a doubt that meal is for me. Doesn’t matter if this was the original plan for today’s menu or not, I have no doubt that angel of a woman would have changed the plan as soon as she heard that this weekend didn’t go as planned.
We do not deserve her…
Miss Harriett has been in charge of the kitchen at Hayes Industries for as long as I can remember—maybe longer than I’ve been alive—and rivals anyone in this town for title of best cook in Hickory Hills. My best friend included. And every week, she makes sure we eat like kings—and a queen—at Munch.
“I thought you said you weren’t going to start unpacking her ’til this weekend?” Jace asks, mouth full of food.
“Not her apartment, the diner,” I answer.
The whole room stops dead, all six of my siblings looking at me like I just told them I personally raised Christ from the dead. Which might have been less of an undertaking than this morning was.
Turning back to the food, I shovel a large helping of meat and veggies onto my plate, unable to help myself. I told Dolly I wouldn’t eat since she wanted to try out some new recipe, but Miss Harriett made fajitas. There’s no turning that down. I’ll just have to fake not being full when I get to the diner.
Or maybe this meeting will go long enough that I’ll be hungry again by the time we get out. Wouldn’t be the first time that we were stuck in here for hours against our will because Gus was trying to prove a point. After all, that is half the point of Munch—short for Monday Lunch—a.k.a. the weekly lunch meeting where the heads of each department get together to update each other on what is going on, talk strategy, and brainstorm if needed. And by heads of each department, I mean my siblings and me. After all, the seven of us are the ones who run this beast of a company.
And I do mean beast. Hayes Industries has been around since the 1800s in some way, shape, or form and has been growing ever since. Our father, Auggie, is currently at the helm, but for how much longer, we’re not sure. In fact, the seven of us secretly have a retirement pool going—each one of us have placed a hundred-dollar bet on when we think he’ll retire. It’ll all come down to when we can find someone to take over for Gus as head of guns and ammo—the original business line—now that he’s executive vice president.
None of the rest of us want it. We’re busy with our own departments. My other two older brothers are well established in their roles. Milo and his best friend have been running Southern Brothers brewing for more than fifteen years, and Anton has the agriculture department—the ever important three Ps of peaches, peanuts, and pecans—down to a science. Pun intended. As for the three below me, there’s no one on this earth who knows more about personal safety than Jace, you couldn’t pry Ewan away from his bait and tackle shop, and Willa is the best face we could ask for when it comes to charitable giving.
“You let her go to work?” Anton exclaims, quickly followed by a sputtered “oww!”—no doubt because Willa kicked him under the table. As she should have.
“I didn’t let her do anything. She’s a grown-ass woman who can make decisions for herself.”
Not that I didn’t try to stop her. Again, raising Jesus from the grave would have been an easier morning than arguing—sorry, discussing —practicalities with a scorned woman.
“Is that really a good idea though?” Ewan, my youngest brother, asks. The quietest of the bunch, he doesn’t usually throw his two cents in unless it’s really important. Then again, he knows a thing or two about being left behind by someone, so he might know something the rest of us don’t.
“No, which is why I need to get back.”
“How many people were there this morning?” Willa asks.
The wince in her smile is more than enough to tell me she hates even asking, but that it’s required information. If there’s anyone in this room that gets it, it’s my baby sister. A former Miss Georgia, Willa has dealt with this town’s rumor mill more than any of us. She’s also the best at manipulating it. When Dustin Wilder left town years ago, leaving behind her best friend Kenzie, and overnight became country sensation Dustin Wild, it was Willa who kept the gossip about Kenzie at bay.
Just like it’s Willa who’s now playing puppet master behind the scenes with the story of why the wedding didn’t happen.
“Enough,” I sigh, slouching in my seat. “Including Mrs. Burch.”
“Why’d she open up anyway?” Jace presses. “You can’t tell me she wanted to go back to work that bad. If she needed a distraction, she coulda cooked up whatever in our kitchen.”
I nod. After all, that’s what I suggested. I told her that I’d run to Wright’s grocery and buy her whatever ingredients she wanted and we’d spend the day making a mess in the kitchen, trying every ridiculous recipe she could find on the Internet. That no matter what it was, Gus, Margeaux, Jace, and I would eat it.
Dolly wasn’t having it though. She insisted she needed normalcy.
My own anger at the jackass aside, there was no arguing with her. Who was I to tell her how to grieve? If turning her focus back on work was going to help her put him behind her, then that’s what we were going to do.
All while I entertained daydreams of dropping an anvil on him or blowing him up with TNT a la the Roadrunner and Wile E. Coyote. Or handing him off to Tony Soprano.
Either one.
“She insisted. And my job isn’t to fight her, it’s to support her.”
That’s always been my job, ever since we were kids. It’s Dolly’s show—I’m just here to make sure she shines.
“You should get back to her.”
I stop, food halfway to my mouth, shocked at who just said that. Looking up slowly, I blink, trying to make it compute. Sure enough, Gus stares back at me, serious as an undertaker.
Gus. Mr. Executive Vice President, I don’t joke about work, this place is more important than anything, just told me to leave. To skip a meeting.
Is this the twilight zone?
“Hux, you should get back to her,” he repeats.
“Who are you and what did you do with Gus?” I quip, unable to help myself. I know exactly what changed— who changed him. Still not going to stop me from busting his balls.
“Sometimes some things are more important. Only major thing on today’s agenda is Reel Madness, and that doesn’t have any direct relation to lumber and paper. Although, you’ll have to contribute, but we can catch you up on what.”
Doesn’t have any direct relation to lumber and paper…
Sputtering out a laugh, I shove the rest of my fajita in my mouth. Now I know he’s extra full of shit. Because I actually read the email he sent last week reminding me that I needed to give an update on the Hayes Forestry Sustainability project today. The very email that told me that he didn’t care that it was wedding weekend, I needed to be ready.
“Really?” I question, narrowing my eyes at him, ready to call him out. Because I can. “That’s it. Only Reel Madness. That’s the only thing on today’s agenda?”
Gus shifts uncomfortably, not liking that I questioned him. Love the guy, but I also love a chance to push his buttons.
In all fairness, it’s not that Reel Madness, the charity fishing tournament that Ewan is hosting in a couple weeks to help raise money for Hayes Cares, the charitable arm of the company that Willa oversees, isn’t important. It is. And in any other circumstance I would leap at the chance to get out of having to give an update on forest sustainability. Also another important subject, but a rather dry one, especially for those who don’t care about the finer details of replanting trees.
“It’s the only major item,” he repeats.
“What about the minor items?” I press.
Gus huffs, his nostrils flaring, and I can see the goodwill he extended earlier starting to evaporate. I smirk, enjoying this way more than I should be, especially since I walked in here asking to keep this short, but the sound of my little sister’s stifled giggle goads me on just enough not to give up yet.
“Huxley.” Our father’s thick Georgia accent is a bucket of cold water on my fun though, my body deflating as Gus perks back up. Saved by the old man. “Wasn’t expectin’ to see you today, son.”
“I was under the impression I was to present an update on the sustainability project today, or there would be consequences ,” I say, emphasizing the last part, quoting the email and using Gus’s own words against him.
My oldest sibling doesn’t bother hiding the single finger salute he sends my way, Auggie chuckling as he fills his plate with food.
“I do believe that baseless threat was made prior to the events of this past weekend,” Auggie drawls, throwing a look over his shoulder at the table. All of us have the good enough sense to keep our mouths shut, letting him continue. “So, stop taunting your brother, finish your food, and get back to what’s important.”
Yes, sir…
I nod, not bothering to respond more than that. Because I have been put in my place. Also, he’s not wrong. I do need to get back to Dolly. She’s the priority. Not taunting Gus, as much fun as that can be. I can work on whatever I need to from there.
A couple more quick bites of fajitas, and I’m on my feet, ready to run out the door. I stop, turning back to the group, my heart as full as my stomach that this was the family I was born into.
“You’ll have your update by the end of the day,” I say, looking straight at Gus.
“I know. And if it’s later this week, that’s fine too.”
“And Wills,” I add. “Carve out time for me at some point. We need to chat about Project: Second Star. I think I finally have a design.”
“Project: Second Star?” Anton questions.
“None of your business,” Willa shuts him down before he can continue.
“Maybe I just want to know what happened to the first star…”
I roll my eyes, turning to go, leaving that one to her. The first star isn’t important. Technically, the second star isn’t either; it’s what comes after that.