Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
Social conduct for hate-free inter-colleague teamwork
For short: SCHIT
When a common enemy presents itself, the contracting parties are friends for a foreseeable period. Sometimes, however, this only lasts for one sentence.
That went well! I’m really proud of you, Gareth.”
Gareth avoided Penny’s gaze as he stirred a splash of milk and a spoonful of sugar into his coffee.
Basing their judgment on his demeanor, people assumed he drank his coffee black.
In reality, he only drank coffee to wake up.
The stuff didn’t taste good. Unfortunately, since he was a night owl, not a morning person, he didn’t have much choice.
“You talked for hours on Saturday. Like old friends.”
That almost made him laugh. They hadn't been talking, but negotiating. However, he wasn’t about to enlighten his sister to the difference. He loved Penny, but he definitely didn’t want to talk about Hazel on a Monday morning. He liked to start his week on a positive note. So he just said, “Hm.”
Unfortunately, his sister followed him with her mug of herbal tea. “So, have you two made peace?”
“Yes.” At least on paper, they had. Even though they still had to finalize and sign the contract, in his opinion, it had been one of the best weddings he’d ever attended.
Normally, he would have wanted to leave after two hours at the most, but killing time with paragraphs and Hazel’s deliberately ridiculous demands had had its advantages.
Penny squeezed his arm, held it tight, and grinned at him. “Yes, that’s what she meant. She called earlier and thanked me for practically forcing you to talk. She said it was nice recalling old times and being on a personal level with you again.”
He struggled to suppress a snort. Hazel could lie convincingly. Their negotiation had been about as personal as an automated email that reached the wrong sender. They had remained every inch the lawyers Harvard had made them.
“What exactly were all your conversations about?”
Gareth raised his eyebrows. “What do you mean?”
“What old times did you talk about? The part where you were together? The part where you broke up?”
Neither. Quite the opposite. They’d even written a clause explicitly forbidding discussion of the past because nothing good had ever come of it.
Penny was merely fishing for information about their relationship.
She’d been doing that for a year, and frankly, he’d had enough.
He wouldn’t tell her that they were contractually obligated to be nice to each other – he had the feeling Penny wouldn’t approve – and anything else… ?
“Penny,” he replied impatiently, slowly leaning his shoulder against the corridor wall that connected their offices. “If you want to know what happened back when Hazel and I broke up, then ask. I have a meeting with Dad right now, so I don’t need any more bullshit.”
She grimaced. “I didn’t want you to feel obliged to answer. I know it’s a sensitive topic.”
“It isn’t,” he said, confused. He didn’t have any sensitive topics. How ridiculous.
Stunned, she opened her mouth. “No? Okay, then explain it to me. Why do you hate each other so much? Did you have such a bad breakup that after seven years, you still can’t look each other in the eye?”
“No,” he said simply. “Our breakup was completely uneventful. Hazel said, I can’t do this anymore. I have to concentrate on my studies. I replied, Okay.”
She looked at him, her mouth gaping. “And they think you’re not emotional.”
He shrugged and took a sip of coffee. With sugar, it was almost bearable.
“It was okay. So I said okay. We didn’t argue.
We were very polite to each other afterward.
” They hadn't remained friends – he wasn’t a masochist – but friendly acquaintances.
He’d never held it against Hazel for thinking he’d distracted her too much from her studies.
He should have expected it; he was still surprised that he’d been surprised.
He’d been devastated, truth be told, and in all fairness, she could have waited a few weeks until after finals to break up with him so he wouldn’t have had to take them without sleep or food, but it had never made him angry.
His future had always been secure, hers never had.
He’d understood that she had different priorities.
She’d had to work a lot harder to get to where she was than he had.
And shit, he’d worked himself into the ground.
Penny blinked, perplexed. “Wait. She broke up with you?”
“Yes.”
“Then why is she so angry?”
He rubbed his chin. “It has nothing to do with the breakup, but more to do with the following years.”
Penny’s eyes widened. “What happened in the following years?”
“I didn’t say I was going to talk about that,” he murmured with a smile, and turned and walked into his office — which was already occupied.
“You’re late,” his father greeted him, leaning back further in his chair.
Gareth involuntarily checked his watch. He was now behind by four minutes because of Penny.
“Then you’ll have to talk faster,” he suggested, walking around his desk and setting the coffee next to a thick red folder that certainly hadn’t been there ten minutes ago.
He ignored Penny, who shot him a dirty look through the door, and nodded at the stack of paper instead.
“What’s this?”
“A few notes from me,” his father answered lightly.
A bitter taste flooded Gareth’s mouth and his stomach hardened.
It seemed some things never changed. This wasn’t the first time he had received a few notes.
It must have started in kindergarten, when he had colored outside the lines in a coloring book, and his father hadn’t wanted to see it as artistic expression, while his mother had praised him to the skies.
“Notes on what?”
“You could just read them.”
“No, thanks,” he replied coolly, sinking into his chair. “I haven’t fed my trash can yet today, and it looks really hungry.”
His father sighed heavily. “You’re going to make this difficult, aren’t you?”
“I’ve learned from the best, Dad.”
Snorting, his father placed his folded hands on the table. “Gareth. I’ve looked at the amounts you’re considering for acquiring new players, and I don’t think that’s wise in terms of our finances…”
“How the hell did you get access to our finances?” Gareth asked in disbelief. He had strictly forbidden any employee from passing confidential information to Darron Clark, precisely to avoid situations like this.
“It’s not important.” He waved his hand dismissively. “You’re making several mistakes.”
“I’ve only made one and that was agreeing to this appointment,” Gareth informed him. “You can go now, Dad.”
“Not until you explain to me why you’re throwing money away.”
Gareth looked his father in the eyes, ignoring the stinging, paralyzing feeling in his chest that he had long since given up on solving.
It was always the same. He was so tired of the game.
His mother told him what a great job he was doing, while his father explained to him why he was making one mistake after another. His parents had always divided their responsibilities evenly.
His father criticized him and praised Penny.
Her mother praised him and criticized Penny.
His dad told him that just because he was going to inherit a lot of money didn’t make him better than anyone else.
His mother explained to him that he had to meet society’s expectations to show that he deserved the money.
As teenagers, this combination had been near-fatal for them.
So, Penny and he had rebelled. He did so by proving to his parents that he could indeed be better than everyone else, not by meeting expectations but by surpassing them.
Penny did so by living a life outside the norm so that she could no longer be compared.
“Gareth, I don’t think you realize how much money we’re talking about! Because you don’t listen to anyone. Because you’ve lost sight of what’s normal and what isn’t. Because you think you can get away with anything just because your name is Clark, and you have a lot of influence and power!”
Yeah, Penny might have chosen the better path. She didn’t have to deal with this bullshit.
But Gareth was who he was — and certainly not the man his father saw.
He had no power or influence because of his name.
He earned all the money in his account, not his father, because he worked harder than everyone else.
He didn't even think it was because he was smarter — although he was arrogant enough to claim he didn’t lack intelligence.
He was successful because he was always willing to sweat for what he wanted to achieve.
But no one believed him, including his father.
Gareth was tired of fighting for what others were simply given, having to prove to his father that he was better than everyone else – not because of the money, but because he had earned it.
Having to prove to his sister that he was happy and content.
Having to prove to his mother that he wasn’t married yet not because his standards were too high.
Having to prove to his friends that he wasn’t a womanizer just because he could be.
Having to prove to the world that he wasn’t arrogant because he was attractive, but because he couldn’t do his job if he lost his self-confidence.
Having to explain to his assistant that he didn’t like his damn coffee black simply because black matched his soul.
His father thought his life had been too easy, his goals too easily achieved, that too much money and power had been handed to him for him to be a halfway decent person.
But nothing in his life had been easy, and it seemed that he was the only one who noticed.
So he gave up. He let people believe what they wanted. They weren’t worth the fight.
“Dad,” he said calmly, “I think it’s better if you leave now,” before he said things he regretted, he didn't add. Granted, he wouldn't regret it for a few days, but the moment would come.
His father ignored him, as usual. “You are going to pay too much for Fox and Devreaux!”
Of course, it was about them. “I’m still negotiating with Fox and Devreaux.”
“Yes, for three months now!”
“Dad, it’s not your team anymore. You left it to us. Now it’s my decision.”
“I gave up the team, not the right to tell you when you’re wrong. You only want Devreaux to prove you can do it.”
“No. I want him because he’s damn good.”
“His stats aren’t any better than Temple's, or West's, or Fox's.”
“If you want to talk stats, talk to Penny. I’ve been watching Devreaux for three goddamn years. The coach is using him wrong, and he could be a hundred times better.”
“I see. So you have a coach’s expertise now too?” his father said condescendingly. “Gareth, you’re too arrogant. Your ego gets in the way. You can’t stand losing, which is why you’ll be taken advantage of.”
Wow. Even his father thought he was an asshole.
Awesome. Maybe he wasn’t wrong about that, but he was wrong on the other point. Gareth had spent hours arguing with Parker Gray, their head coach, who agreed with him about Devreaux.
But he remained silent. He didn’t owe his father anything, especially not more damn proof of his competence.
“Come on, Gareth. You don’t even want Devreaux anymore, you just want to beat Hazel Barrow. I know your dynamic.”
Anger filled his chest. It was anger he’d learned to hide. But not when it came to her. Never when it came to her.
“You don’t know anything about Hazel and me,” he replied coldly.
“I know she’s a fantastic lawyer, the one you advised me not to hire back then because you two had some kind of feud.”
Gareth gritted his teeth. No, that wasn’t the reason.
“Son. I’ve had problems with agents before, and they’re easily solved by sending them a nice, expensive bottle of alcohol or some other gift. Chocolates, for example. So they feel appreciated.”
Gareth stared at his father, perplexed — then he started laughing. The situation wasn’t funny, but his father’s suggestion was. “Chocolates,” he whispered, his laughter growing louder. He couldn’t help it; the idea was just too ludicrous.
“What’s so funny?”
“The fact that if Gareth sent me chocolate and alcohol to win my favor, I’d throw a nice bonfire and question his sanity,” a voice rang out.
Gareth’s gaze flew to the door — and caught Hazel’s sweet smile.
Shit. How much had she heard?