18. Jude
Sunday, October 29th
One thing Wilder overlooked when they hired their workforce was noncompete, nonpoaching clauses in their employment contracts. So now that they’ve laid off half their workforce, we are free to find employment wherever we can, including at their competition.
That’s what happens when you make snap decisions. The impact could be huge and detrimental. I’ve been getting in touch with a handful of web designers and developers who were laid off. Their clients too.
The chaos in the office on Friday as client after client broke their contracts with Wilder was a sight to behold. Considering the fucking mess they made, I took some twisted pleasure in watching leadership trip over themselves to try and bargain with displeased clients. It was poetry in motion.
Oh, that’s another thing.
Clients who signed contracts in the past two months weren’t required to sign any kind of nondisclosure agreements either. This shit writes itself. There have been articles in the local paper and in some statewide publications about this. Everyone has been talking to the press and Wilder is going under, fast.
And with that, I’ve been pooling my resources, and I’ve been doing so tirelessly. The look on Lucienne’s face as she closed that damn door invades my mind, triggering panic attack after panic attack. I’m physically, mentally, and psychologically exhausted. I’m working through it, focusing on my grandiose, absolutely insane plan to hang on to a shred of hope.
If someone were to walk into my apartment right now, they would think I had a mental breakdown, and they may not be incorrect. I have resumes, cover letters, employment contracts, client contracts, and financial statements strewn all over my office. The floors, my desk, the couch: Every surface is covered.
Organization went out the fucking window because I have to move on this as fast as possible. On Friday, I submitted all necessary paperwork to set things in motion. I also stopped by Lucienne’s and dropped off her favorite coffee and a bag of Swedish Fish.
I’ve owed her a coffee since I met her in that elevator and I always intended on doing so sooner, but things got away from me.
I walked the few blocks to her place because I didn’t want to risk her seeing my car parked on the street. After I knocked, I don’t think I’ve ever run so fast. I’m still not sure how my legs carried me so far in such a short amount of time. With how angry and hurt she was, I thought it was best to leave her be.
The day after the shit hit the fan wasn’t the time to try and kiss and make up. I need something bigger, something she can’t ignore. I’m not a complete idiot; I know this could backfire. I need to try, though. So I’m going to try my damnedest.
Then she texted me after midnight.
She wants to talk. This could make or break me. It goes without saying, but I agreed. If it were up to me, I’d drive over to her apartment right now, lock the door behind me, and make love to her until we collapse from exhaustion.
I can’t think about that if I want this to work.
The lack of noncompete clauses and nondisclosure agreements are the only reasons this could work out. Employees who were laid off can go and work for a competitor without fear of repercussions from Wilder. Check.
Employees can also talk about the intricacies of how Wilder operates, how the layoffs came to be, what the severance packages include, etc. Check.
Clients can talk about any breaches in their contracts due to Wilder’s personnel decisions and can seek services from a competitor without being held accountable for breaching any part of their contract in any form. Check.
Check, times three.
Emails are being sent back and forth; my phone is constantly going off, whether it’s a call or text. Thus far I have three web designers, one web developer, and two former Wilder clients who are interested in what I’m cooking up.
I haven’t written a business plan since I was an undergraduate student, so I’m a little rusty. Did I need to find a template to work from? I did. The fucking irony was not lost on me.
I’m flying by the seat of my pants, if I’m being blunt. I don’t really know what I’m doing. I just know what I want as a result. Starting an LLC is surprisingly simple; at least the initial paperwork is. I’ve applied under my name for now, but my intention, my fucking hope, is that Lucienne will sign on as well.
I want to be her damn cheerleader and help behind the scenes. It’s my gift to her, an established company where she can bring every creative vision she’s ever had to life. Where she can do her work the way she wants to and to work with the people who believe in her and her work as much as I do.
Fuck, I’ll do anything for her. I always will.
I have my resignation letter already drafted. Actually, it was the first thing I did when I got home after that horrible night. That job and that place gave me her, but they tried to take her away. It’s just a job. I can find another. Or maybe I can make another.
My only issue—okay not only issue, but one of the more pressing issues—is money. My savings isn’t nonexistent, but it’s nothing to brag about either. If I’m about to resign from my job, I need to consider how I’m going to continue paying my bills. Applying for the LLC license was no big deal, but start-up costs and being able to pay employees is expensive.
Some of my discussions with former clients involve asking them to become investors. Only one is interested and the other is very much so on the fence.
Money doesn’t grow on trees, as they say, which is a real bitch.
My phone is dancing across the top of my desk. I might need to turn the vibrator off because that alone will drive me batshit. I grab it and see a text from an unknown number.
???: Hi Jude. It’s Colette Ashburn.
Fuck, I think? I don’t know what this means.
Jude:Hi Colette. How are you?
How are you. That’s what I went with. What else am I supposed to say?
Colette:This is totally random, but I want to talk to you if you’re up for it. It’s about Lucienne. Are you free?
Jude:Is she okay???
Colette:If you’re asking if she’s safe, yes, she’s fine. So, are you up for talking?
Jude:Yes.
If it’s about Lucienne, I will drop anything and everything.
Colette:Meet down by the lakefront in 20 minutes?
Jude:See you then.
Islip out of my apartment twenty minutes later and walk down to the lakefront. Boats are docked nearby, covered for the impending winter. Even though it’s a cold afternoon, the skies are clear and there are people going for walks and riding their bikes.
I feel my fight or flight response kick as I get closer to the boardwalk. Lucienne hasn’t texted me since we agreed to meet tomorrow. Not a peep. And now I’m meeting up with her best friend for God knows why.
My stomach is in knots because I don’t know what’s about to happen. Is Colette going to tell me to leave her alone? Am I now the asshole that she needs to protect her best friend from? I’ve never been that guy before and I fucking hate the thought.
This feels like a bad idea, but I’m already committed. Before I left, I checked myself in the mirror, which is something I never care to do. The circles under my eyes are dark and sunken in and my beard has become full and unruly. Unruly like Lucienne’s dark curls. I shake the image of her from my head, tucking my hands into my pockets.
Colette is sitting on a bench a few feet away and waves me down as I step onto the boardwalk. I wave back, a forced smile stretched across my face. I feel like a moron.
“Hey, Jude.”
“Hi. Hey, how’s it going?”
I sit beside her, pulling my jacket snug against my chest. She gives me a fleeting smile and rubs her hands together. I’d love it if she would break the silence first because I don’t know what to say without hurling a ton of questions about Lucienne at her.
Colette clears her throat and turns to me with her elbow on the back of the bench, catching her head in her hand. “Not to be too forward, but what the hell are you two doing?” she asks.
I get the feeling Colette is a very direct communicator. It probably suited her well in her job until a few days ago. “Who? Me and these circles under my eyes?” I need a second to even process that question, so cracking a joke seemed like an okay idea.
“Ha. Ha. No, you and Lucienne,” she says.
“We’re—uh—we’re meeting up tomorrow, at the coffee shop near—”
She shoves my shoulder, which surprises me, and I almost lose my balance on the bench. “Yeah, I know about tomorrow. Why are you penciling each other in as if you’re just colleagues on a work project?”
I think I hate that question because that’s exactly what we’re doing. Scheduling a meeting to talk about a business deal or something. We’re keeping each other at arm’s length. I thought I was doing it to be respectful of her space, let her process things on her own time.
“I—she told me to leave, so I thought I’d let her decide when she wanted to speak to me again. I didn’t want to pressure her,” I explain.
“And you didn’t think that she may want you to fight for her? To go after her?” she asks, narrowing her eyes curiously.
“If I know anything about Lucienne, it’s that pushing her too much means she’ll pull away. I was—I was scared I’d push her away.” I shrug.
Colette sighs and throws her head back. “That’s because no one has ever pushed her to be the best version of herself. Not like you. People she’s been with have always pushed her to be something she isn’t, so she keeps people at bay. But not you, Jude.” The way she looks at me is painfully earnest.
Well, damn.
“I’m willing to bet every time you pushed her just a bit, she opened up to you. She let you in, right?”
Colette might be the only person on the face of this planet who knows Lucienne this well. I’ve been so blinded by my own self-loathing and catastrophizing that I forgot what she had done for me. She let me see her, all those stripped-back layers. In the face of her own fear, she chose openness.
I click my tongue and hang my head, my arms crossed as the realization takes hold. “Yeah. Yeah, you’re right.”
She laughs and I give her a strange look. “Love is fucking crazy, isn’t it?”
Then I’m laughing, uncontrollably. Shit, I even shed a tear. Colette laughs with me and when we finally collect ourselves, I sigh heavily. “I’ve never felt more out of my goddamned mind.”
“Amen to that.”
Another silence stretches between us, but this time, I let it linger. It’s starting to get dark and the sun is setting over the lake as the ferry crests the horizon on its return from New York. Maybe Lucienne and I can take a trip to New York together. So long as my future includes her, I’ll be alright.
“It was you who dropped off that coffee and candy, right?” she asks, interrupting my thoughts.
“Yeah, that was me. I never replaced that coffee I caused her to spill way back when.” I smile sheepishly.
“Very romantic,” she laughs.
Then it dawns on me that Colette is probably unemployed still. She’s the only other person I know who would do anything for Lucienne, which she has made very obvious.
“Hey, I have a proposition for you. I haven’t just been a sorry sack of shit the past few days. I’ve been working on something. I—I think, well I hope, it’ll be enough to show Lucienne how sorry I am.”
“Okay?”
I turn to her, rubbing the back of my neck. “I’ve been talking to anyone who was laid off from Wilder, anyone from your department—”
“The department that once was, you mean.”
I laugh. “Yes, the artist formerly known as Web Design and Development. All weekend, I’ve been working with them and some former clients to start up an LLC. I want to—I want to give it to Lucienne. She’s an incredible talent and she could do the work the way she wants to if she were the boss, yeah? So, what—”
I stop because Colette is eyeing me incredulously.
“Am I crazy or—what’s that look for?” I ask.
“You started an LLC for Lucienne to launch her own web design company? That’s your plan?” she asks with a sense of wonder.
I thought I was on a roll and now I feel as if I’m about to fall off the tightrope. “Y-yeah. I wanted to ask if you’d help me and join as some kind of account manager.”
She squeals, which I’m coming to learn she does a lot, and grabs me in a hug. I’m too stunned to hug her back so I just sit there with my arms tucked at my sides as she shakes me ever so slightly.
“You are by far the greatest person who has had the privilege of loving Lucienne.”
My heart feels like it’s about to beat out of my chest. It is a privilege and I’m so unbelievably fucking lucky.
“I have an investor and I’m tossing in some of my own savings, but I’m still trying to get all the startup costs situated before I see her tomorrow—”
She stops me. “How much do you need? It’s covered.”
I gape at her and open my mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. “Don’t give me that look. She is and always will be my best friend. Whatever she needs, I’ll do it. Let’s keep chatting, Carr.”
It’s been a long day, a long few days. With Colette agreeing to invest in the LLC and come on as an employee, I think this might work. I fight the urge to text Lucienne and tell her everything, but I’ve decided I’m going to trust in this process. It’s one day. Tomorrow, I’ll lay it all out on the table.
I jog over to Church Street after talking with Colette. Daemon has been badgering me, rightfully so, all day. I’ve dodged his texts since Wednesday and I owe him a drink, so I’m meeting him at the Red Cloverz Pub again. Something tells me it’s so he can catch a glimpse of that red-headed waitress again.
He’s waiting at the bar when I walk through the door, chatting with the bartender. The crowd is thin on a Sunday night, just a couple groups of people quietly enjoying a drink or two. This is much more my pace.
“Don’t overserve him,” I shout.
Daemon whips around and flips me off. “This guy, he ghosts me for four days and waltzes in here cracking jokes,” he laughs. He stands when I approach him and we share a quick hug.
“I’m here now, aren’t I?” I rap him on the shoulder.
“Yeah, yeah. What the hell happened? Fuck’s sake these layoffs, brother. Wilder is dead in the water. I’ll probably be looking for a new job soon, considering how shitty everything is now.” He throws back a shot of whatever he has in front of him.
I take the empty shot glass and place it behind the bar. “Last one,” I say firmly.
Daemon rolls his eyes. “Jude, it’s wild. Half the staff is gone; what an insane move. What about Lucienne?”
“She was laid off,” I say.
His mouth falls open and then he’s angrily shaking his head. “Shit. That fucking sucks. How’s she doing?”
“I don’t know. She hasn’t really talked to me since. We had a—I don’t even know if you can call it a fight, but I’ll fix it.” This is me willing things into existence because I will fix this tomorrow.
“Of course you will, lover boy,” he laughs.
Then Daemon’s attention is drawn toward the kitchen, a flash of red hair. I knew it. I’ll humor him tonight. “Well, what are you waiting for?” I ask.
He shrugs but his face is flushed red. He runs a hand through his hair, leaving it messy and sticking out every which way. “We went out already. Done and done, brother.”
My laugh earns me a glare. “Then why are we here? We could have a beer at my place.”
Daemon’s gaze is still locked on the kitchen door, but he quickly stares down at his empty glass as she comes out of the kitchen. She clears off a table, occasionally tightening her apron and tossing her ponytail behind her shoulder.
“Because…”
“Daemon Hensen wants a second date. I never thought I’d see the day.”
“Where do you get off using my full name?”
“This is a big deal.”
He kicks me, but I dodge him. I can tell how much pull this woman has over him. Seeing him knocked down a peg is kind of hilarious.
“Look, seeing you find someone or whatever is making me reconsider some things, okay? Maybe I’ll give something a shot. I don’t know,” he says under his breath.
As much as I want to give him shit, I won’t lay into him too badly. This could be good for him, but I need to have a little fun. “Did I inspire you, Daemon?”
“You give me ulcers is what you do, Jude.”
“Just returning the favor.”