Chapter Thirty-One
Thirty-One
“How much trouble are you in?” Ben asks me when I get back to my desk.
“A lot.”
“Where’s Connor?”
“Talking to Brad.”
He cringes. “Ouch.”
It strikes me that Ben is looking incredibly relaxed as he leans back in his desk chair. His hand is resting on the armrest, his elbow poking away from his side.
“You don’t seem that stressed about it.”
He shrugs. “I’m not.”
“You’re not worried I like, ruined the company or something?”
He laughs. “No. I mean, it’s a mess and Brad’s going to make our lives a nightmare. But you want my honest opinion?”
“Badly.”
“I kind of like the drama.”
This pulls a reluctant laugh from me. There’s something very incongruous about stoic, watchful Ben saying the word drama.
Ever the double act, Martin and John glide around the corner, both carrying plates piled high with food.
“Oh shit,” Martin says when he sees me. “It’s the traitor!”
“Wow, so we’re all just…certain it was me?”
“It was obviously you,” John says.
“Hey, have you been undercover for Product this whole time?” Martin asks me.
“What could I have possibly been undercover for?”
“I don’t know, but I’m sleeping with one eye open from now on.”
I roll my eyes. “Very funny.”
“Not as funny as that squad lead calling out Brad in the middle of the all-hands,” Martin says, tucking into a huge bite of sandwich.
“I’m never going to live this down, am I?”
“Oh, never,” he says through a mouthful of food. “You will live on in infamy.”
“Great,” I mutter.
Ben gives me a sympathetic smile. “What did Connor say about it?”
“Not a lot,” I admit. “Brad wanted to see him. He’s really angry at me, obviously.”
“Don’t worry,” he tells me. “He’ll sort it out.”
“Yeah,” I say weakly, not remotely believing it.
The longer Connor is away from his desk, the more anxious I feel.
My panic is contagious. All three of the guys look increasingly uneasy as the minutes pass, and I try not to read too much into the fact I can hear their keyboards clicking away around me, the very obvious theme song of a group chat that is absolutely on fire right now.
I try and message Carrie, but there’s no reply. Trust her to be busy working at the exact moment I need her.
She finally pops up, two hours later.
CARRIE: Hey. Can you come up to my office?
—
I tap on the office door with a knuckle, then gently open it. If my first clue that something is very wrong was the strained smile she gives me, my second is that Connor is sitting in the chair opposite her desk.
He was hidden from view when I first opened the door, but now that I see him, I know this is ominous.
The chair beside him is empty. I take a seat. The three of us form a perfect triangle of doom.
“Thank you for coming, Annie,” Carrie says, straightening her shoulders and folding her hands in front of her.
“What’s going on?” I ask, looking from her to Connor, who is carefully avoiding eye contact. He is stone-faced, a hand gripping each of his knees. Unbelievable. Is he so pissed off that he’s reported me to HR?
Carrie takes a deep breath. “After a serious breach of confidential information on Monday, you’re found to be in violation of company practices.
After consultation with your line manager”—she waves a hand toward Connor—“the company has made the difficult decision to terminate your employment contract, effective immediately.”
Carrie’s words hit me like an anvil. I stare at her in shock.
“Access to your emails and any shared company drives has been revoked as of five minutes ago. We ask that you arrange to return any company property you may currently hold off-site within thirty days.
“You can of course return to your desk to gather your personal belongings, but due to the nature of the policy violation, a member of HR will escort you there and then off the premises.”
This is like a nightmare playing out in slow motion: the most humiliating moment of my life unfolding in front of two of the people I’d least like to see it.
Connor is staring at the floor like he’s trying to drill a hole in it with his eyes.
I chance a look at Carrie, who gives me such a pained expression I almost can’t bear it.
“OK,” I say, standing. My legs feel like putty. My voice sounds like shards of glass. “You don’t need to escort me. I just need to get my coat.”
“It’s company policy,” she says, rising from her desk and gesturing toward the door.
I look back over my shoulder one last time. If I didn’t know better, I’d think Connor was a waxwork. He is completely and utterly motionless. Good. I have nothing to say to him anyway.
Carrie and I walk down the hall in silence. She reaches for my arm.
“Don’t,” I say sharply. “What the fuck was that?”
“I’m really sorry, Annie. I hated having to do that.”
“Some warning would have been nice, Carrie.”
“I couldn’t.”
“Oh fuck off,” I snap.
When we get to my floor she hangs back by the elevators. “I’ll wait for you here.”
—
Ben notices me first, his eyes flicking up briefly when I’m in his peripheral vision and then doing a double take when he sees the shell-shocked look on my face. He gets up from his desk immediately. I must look an absolute fright.
“What’s going on?”
“I got fired.”
His eyes bug out. “You’re not serious.”
“I’m literally being escorted out.”
“We need to find Connor. Does he know?”
“He’s the one who fired me.”
“What?” Ben says, completely incredulous. “I don’t understand.”
Both John and Martin pull off their headphones, asking what’s going on, and I repeat the news that I’ve been fired. They’re instantly in a state of complete confusion.
“I can’t believe this,” John says. “This has to be a mistake.”
“It’s not,” I say. “I violated company policy.”
“This is bullshit!” John says.
“They can’t do this,” Martin argues, ready to take up my defense. “We’ll go on strike!”
I smile, but shake my head. “I’m sorry, guys. I hope I don’t get you all into any more trouble.”
“Aw man, this sucks,” John says.
I fight the urge to cry.
“I’ll miss you boys,” I tell them. “I liked being on your team. I feel like you’ll probably all hate me now, but, you know, if anyone’s ever in the Village or anything…”
I trail off, unsure of what I’m trying to say, and knowing deep down no one will want to stay in touch with me anyway.
Ben steps forward and wraps me in a hug, and a second later Martin and John pile in, until I’m completely crushed between them.
“Don’t be a stranger,” Ben says when he steps back.
I nod, draping my coat over my arm.
“Bye, Annie,” John says, one of his corkscrew curls flopping into his eye. Beside him, Martin gives a pathetic little wave.
“Bye,” I whisper.
—
Carrie meets me at the elevators but decides physically walking me out of the building is probably overkill. It’s very clear I want to leave. She tells me she’ll stop by the apartment after work. I waspishly tell her not to bother.
I know it’s not fair. I know she’s just the messenger.
But I’m still pissed off. There were a hundred different ways she could have done her job that didn’t include hauling me into her office and reading out the company textbook.
The thought of what the two of them must have been talking about before I got there makes me want to bleach my eyeballs.
It’s those dead hours between lunch and home time, so the lobby is quiet, but still, I keep my head down, hoping to avoid bumping into anyone and having to explain that I am currently in the process of leaving the building for the last time.
I’m right near the doors when I hear Connor shout from somewhere behind me.
I stop and turn.
“Where are you going?”
“In case you missed the memo,” I say bitterly, “I don’t work here anymore.”
“So you’re just leaving? Don’t you think we should talk about this?”
I give a pitiful laugh. “Sure, Connor. What do you want to talk about?”
“Frankly? I want to ask you what the hell you were thinking.”
“What was I thinking?” I gasp.
“Yes! You had to have known Brad was going to make an example out of you. What good could have possibly come from telling him you were the source of the leak?”
“I was trying to help you!”
He looks at me like I’ve just said the stupidest thing he’s ever heard in his life. “And I’m supposed to thank you for that?”
“Yes, you idiot! If I hadn’t said anything he would have blamed you.”
“So what, Annie? Even if he did, he never would have been able to prove that we put that information out on purpose.”
“I can’t believe this. You’re standing here acting like you’re the one who should be mad. I’m the one who just got fired!”
“And that’s your own fault!” He seethes.
“Oh, thanks—really nice, Connor.”
“After your heroics with Brad there was only one way that could end. I told you that info was confidential. I told you not to say anything. But of course,” he says, smacking his palm against his forehead. “How could I forget? Annie knows everything.”
“You know what,” I snap. “Fine. Maybe that was the wrong call. But I did it for the right reasons. When did you become such a fucking Taskio robot, Connor? Brad sucks. This is wrong. You know it’s wrong!
And you won’t do anything about it. You’re taking the easy way out. Just like you did with DinoCode.”
My words land between us with a dull thud. There’s a difference in the way we’ve been arguing. Everything he said was true. Everything I said was mean. The hurt and disappointment is etched all over his face.
He swallows, looks away. Swallows again. “So that’s what you really think of me. I’d been wondering.”
“Connor, I—”
He shakes his head. “Forget it.”
I watch him turn and walk away.