24. Gus
24
GUS
“Start from the beginning.”
I sit up fully, lifting my head from between my legs, hoping the nausea has subsided, and letting the weight of my torso rest against the plush chair in my father’s office. The office I’ve been planning to inherit. Blood rushes from my head, making me dizzy for a second as the rest of the room comes into view. I have no idea how long it’s been since I walked in here, feeling like the weight of the world slammed into me and the rug was pulled out from underneath me all at the same time.
Auggie, Milo, and Carl all stand to my right, my father and brother’s backs turned to the small sitting area made up of four chairs and a coffee table, occupied only by me. Like I’ve been put in timeout.
In a way, I have.
The tone of my father’s voice says it all.
“There’s been a complaint,” Carl starts.
Fuck…
“I imagine you don’t get a lot of people coming to you to tell you how much they love you,” Milo quips .
Carl shrugs, not arguing with my brother’s point. “About Gus. And Margeaux.”
The nausea returns, this time like a tidal wave, ready to take no prisoners.
“A complaint about what exactly?” Auggie asks. As if it’s somehow not completely obvious. As if I hadn’t burst in here an hour ago telling him what went down.
“That there was…is…more than a… professional …relationship between the two of them.”
Well, that’s a polite way of putting it. Certainly much nicer than Teresa actually put it when I was sitting there.
“You don’t need to confirm anything,” he continues, but I cut him off.
“We’re both consenting adults.” I push to my feet, turning to face him, ready to defend myself.
“Or do.”
He doesn’t bother to hide his exasperation, throwing his arms out wide. Clearly, he didn’t want a confirmation to a fact he already technically knew. That everyone in this room technically knew. Too bad. My thoughts are moving too fast for me to even begin to think straight, and I need to make this stop. Make it go away.
“I told you about my interest in her.”
“You did, but you didn’t declare the relationship prior to being her direct supervisor.”
“Temporarily.”
“It was still undeclared.”
“I told you about it!”
I step forward again, closing the distance between Carl and me. My father holds out his arm, keeping me in my timeout box.
“But you didn’t fill out the form.”
“You didn’t tell me there was paperwork!”
Carl rolls his eyes. “Of course there is paperwork. I asked if you were officially disclosing it, which means having it in writing—from both of you—that this is a mutual, consensual relationship.”
“Of course it’s consensual!”
“I’m happy to hear that no one was coerced,” he says, his official HR voice in place. “We do still have to talk to Ms. Finnegan to confirm, but I trust your word and that there won’t be any additional allegations or sexual assault charges to follow.”
Sexual assault charges? Christ on a bike, he has got to be kidding. The nausea tidal wave ebbs once more, the room starting to move like my mama’s salad spinner, making me dizzy. I rock on my feet and consider sitting down again.
This isn’t happening.
“You’re joking, right?” Milo asks, cutting in for the first time since Carl dropped his bomb. “This is Gus. He who wrote the directions on how to follow the rules.”
Thanks, Milo…
Only I’ve been breaking those rules for the last couple of months. And fuck, did it feel good. I have zero regrets from getting involved with Margeaux, even if it was sooner than I should have.
“I trust that we will not find anything in that area that requires actions.”
“The employee has filed an official complaint though, yes?” Auggie clarifies. “So this is not just repeating a rumor and them making an insinuation. This is actionable?”
Carl nods. “Yes. An official report and complaint has been filed. So, we do have to conduct a review to make sure that all parties were treated fairly and there isn’t a conflict of interest. There has been an accusation that there was some favoritism while Gus oversaw the legal department.”
Favoritism? Favoritism? None of this is making sense. How could I have possibly favored anyone in the legal department? I basically let them run themselves. And if I had done anything that was out of line, Mabel would have told me. There isn’t any wiggle room with that woman. She would have zero qualms about putting me in my place faster than a hot knife slices through butter. I might be second-in-command around here, but Hickory Hills is a small town and old-school Southern manners still rule. My elders would not think twice about keeping me in line.
“Are you fucking serious? What did she say?” I ask. No, demand. I need to know. Because once I know, I can put this to bed. “Tell me exactly what she said. How I favored someone. Because she’s full of shit!”
“I can’t tell you that,” Carl answers. “You’re part of the investigation, and we have to conduct this fairly.”
“So, what does all this mean? For Gus and Margeaux?” Milo asks.
Margeaux.
“I know exactly what it means,” I murmur.
Horror, dread, and defeat slam into me as her beautiful, smiling face comes into focus. My beautiful, brilliant girl and all she’s worked for and accomplished. If I’m under review, then so is she.
“We have a standard practice for all involved. We’ll conduct the review. Talk to everyone, all parties, and go from there,” Carl tells him.
The reality of this hits me. Of what it means for her. Accuse me all you want. But her? No. That’s the line. She’s worked hard for everything she’s accomplished. Her multiple degrees. Her years at Sulonen. All that she’s done to help her family’s business. Everything she’s done here at Hayes. That was all her. None of that had anything to do with her being with me.
If anything I was the one benefiting from her. Not the other way around .
However, that’s not how this is going to look. And being on the receiving end of favoritism is way worse than the giving. Especially as a woman.
Fuck.
“You need to look into?—”
“No.” Carl’s voice is forceful, harsh. He holds up his hand, pointing a single finger at me, the same way you’d scold a small child. “Gus, I’m telling you this as your friend, not the head of HR—stop. I know you’re upset. But do not go making counter accusations or claims. That is not going to help. Because I have to document those, and if it turns out you’re wrong…well, it’s best if we keep this as clean as possible. So my advice to you is to not say anything, to anyone. That includes Margeaux.”
The punch to the gut is so heavy it knocks the wind out of me. I’m not supposed to talk to Margeaux? Carl doesn’t know what he’s asking. I can’t stop speaking to the woman who turned my world upside down. The one I’m about to introduce to my mother on Sunday.
The woman I love.
“I’m not cutting off contact with Margeaux.”
“That’s my suggestion if you want what is best for her right now,” he tells me with a stone-cold expression. Damn it, he’s serious. “I’m not telling you this, but the complainant is threatening to sue if action isn’t taken.”
“Can they do that?” Milo asks.
“This is America. You can do anything.” Carl shrugs.
“Have you talked to her yet?” The words are heavy on my tongue, a weird contrast for how small my voice sounds.
“Margeaux?”
I nod. Slumping down in the chair, I run my hands down my face, trying to make this all make sense. But I can’t. Instead, all I can do is wonder what Margeaux knows. And if she does, what she is thinking and feeling. If it matches my own set of emotions.
Anger. Confusion. Sorrow.
“Not yet. I came straight here,” he answers, his voice softer, heavier now. Like it’s full of the same regret mine is. “Auggie, I will need you and Percy when we talk to her.”
Instinctively, I feel my father nod, voice filling in the background of my thoughts as he says something I can’t quite make out, my emotions taking over, drowning out everything else.
I need to talk to Margeaux. Tell her it’s going to be okay. That I’ll fix this.
Except, I can’t.
Can’t talk to her. Can’t fix this either.
Fuck.
Fuck.
“Milo, I believe you have a bar to open. We’ll reschedule our lunch. For a day when your older brother isn’t single-handedly undoing seven generations’ worth of work with his dick.”
Thanks, Dad…
The soft snick of the door closing behind my brother is loud enough to be heard from the moon, even over the exasperated sigh Auggie lets out as he sits down next to me. Looking over at him, my stomach plummets.
Because this time it’s worse than it was that day at Munch. This time I know will haunt me for the rest of my life.
Pure disappointment.
It really would be easier if it were anger.
“I told you this was going to come back to bite you.” His tone is careful, his words even, devoid of all feeling. It’s the coldest thing I’ve ever heard him say.
I nod, not knowing what to say. Mostly because there isn’t a response to that. I could try to defend myself, but that would be no use. I assured him not two weeks ago that I had this under control. That nothing like this was going to happen. I was so fucking sure it wouldn’t.
So fucking sure.
So much so it led to what I thought was a hell of a father and son moment. One that’s tasting a lot more bitter than sweet right about now.
“What am I going to do with you, August?”
It’s rhetorical, but I can’t help but answer. Even in a moment like this.
“Since I’m on administrative leave, making me mow the lawn is about the only thing you can do.”
“Don’t push it, I just might.”
I bark out a laugh, my anxiety bubbling up and out of me.
“I ran that department fairly,” I defend.
“Of that, I have no doubt. But that doesn’t really matter, does it? Because you made a choice. And now we have to live with the consequences. A-B-C, son.”
A-B-C…
I sigh, pulling my lips inward and biting down, nodding at the trite adage that Auggie repeated to us over and over as kids. Well, maybe it’s not quite as trite anymore given the circumstances.
Life is as simple as A-B-C…Actions Bring Consequences…
Problem now is, I’m not exactly sure what the consequences are. Of how this is all going to play out. All I know is that none of it is good.
Flexing my hands, I wipe my palms on my thighs, my heart still racing like it’s at the Daytona 500. For as fast as that damn organ is moving, the rest of me feels like I’m slogging through quicksand, time standing still, everything frozen as the world crumbles around me.
How is it that my entire world fell apart so quickly ?
And Margeaux still doesn’t know.
I need to talk to her. I can’t. Certainly not before Carl does. And according to him, not after either. There’s no way I’m cutting off contact. He’s insane if he thinks I’m doing that. Besides, what he won’t know won’t hurt him. We’ve gone this long carrying on behind everyone’s back…
Then again, apparently we weren’t as successful at that as I thought.
“I have to go handle this. And you have to go home. Or well, I suppose you don’t have to go home, but you at least need to leave the premises. The fact that your brother owns a bar does give you an easy escape if you want to drown your sorrows. I believe he even has a beer for such an occasion.”
I chuckle, knowing that Auggie is quite proud of himself for making a Sob Story reference. I have no doubt that he’ll be bragging about how he worked it into conversation at some point.
“You should know I am proud of you though.”
I bolt upright. Did I just hear him properly? He’s… proud …of me? No. No.
There is no way that’s what he just said.
I am officially hearing things. I was all in for his suggestions to hit up Pour Decisions and lose myself in a Sob Story, but now I’m thinking I need to hit up Doc Galindo and have my hearing checked. Because there is absolutely no way that the man who was just looking at me like he wanted to disown me not ten minutes ago is now telling me that’s he’s proud of me.
I must be missing something.
Slapping his hands on his knees, Auggie starts to laugh.
Yeah, I missed something.
“Gus, how old are you?”
Taken aback, I pause. Auggie knows exactly how old I am. He was there. For all of it. Still, I humor him. Today of all days, I owe him that.
“Forty.”
“And in those forty years, how many times have you broken the rules?”
“Rules aren’t meant to be broken,” I answer.
It’s automatic, out of me before I can even think, Auggie’s smirk and quirked-up eyebrow a kick in the teeth. Rules aren’t meant to be broken—except I’ve been doing just that.
“It’s a lesson you’ve needed for a while. Some rules are meant to be broken. Sometimes exceptions need to be made. Flexibility can be a good thing. Some things are worth the risk.”
“That’s four,” I counter, trying to keep the smart-ass out of my voice. I succeed, I think. Although the bitter might still be there.
“Fine, four lessons. As your boss, I’m disappointed, and none too happy that you’ve put us in a damn difficult situation that now I have to find a way to fix. But as your dad, I’m proud you took the risk. Because the old Gus wouldn’t have done that, and the man you’ve grown into, the one who was willing to do whatever it takes, that’s my boy.”
My heart squeezes, his words sinking deep into me, settling into my soul. Knowing that at least part of him is proud leaves me with some peace, but there’s still too much turmoil shredding away at me. Too much angst and unknown.
Auggie pushes to his feet, nodding at me. Turning to go, he remains silent, letting it all soak in. But I still have one pressing question.
“What now?”
Turning back to me, his features are stony again, back to the cold, tense set from earlier .
“Now you have to make a choice. One that defines the rest of your life. So make sure it’s worth it.”
Make sure it’s worth it…
I leap from the chair, closing the distance between us in two steps, my heart in my throat.
“Are you saying I have to choose between Margeaux and taking over Hayes?”
“Potentially.” Auggie swallows hard. “I don’t know what the outcome of all this will be. But that’s a definite possibility. But even if that’s not it, you will have to decide whether this relationship is worth risking your professional reputation over.”
Another nod and he turns to go, leaving the last part unsaid. The most important part.
Because it’s not just my professional reputation on the line. It’s Hayes’s as a whole.
And Margeaux’s.