12 - ADAM
The hangover is brutal. Alcoholic and moral.
I wake up to my phone vibrating against my skull.
I reach for it on the nightstand. Almost knock it over.
Olavo’s shouting, I think, telling me not to look at the internet.
Seriously? I put the call on speakerphone.
Images of Lara are popping up all over the news.
Luckily, she’s not identifiable. They’re a bit blurry.
Like my vision. Like her makeup. Why did she lie to me so much?
Making up a dysfunctional family like that?
! There was no reason for it. I was right there, completely open to her.
I lied to her too. Partly. Shit! I’m thinking about her again. I can’t stop.
At lunch with my parents, I’m wearing sunglasses; neither of them calls me out.
My mother looks terrible. My father tells me he had to pull some strings to keep anything from reaching the Germans.
He emphasizes that everything depends on my marriage to Laura.
I try to ease the situation. He keeps talking in that drawn-out but firm tone of his.
“We beat the American company by presenting this beautiful love story, which won over the wife of... I can’t even pronounce that name.
” He taps his finger on the table. “This fairy tale can’t crumble because of some airhead in the family.
” He casually places his napkin beside his plate of untouched food.
“They need to erase what happened; she’s not even considered part of the family. ”
“I’ll have them draft a statement about this woman’s mental state,” my mother says. I straighten in my chair. “Don’t worry, son, we’ll take care of everything.”
I end up saying nothing; they’re right, she must have some kind of mental condition. The Borbón family shouldn’t have to suffer any more because of her lies, and neither should mine.
“Excellent,” my father says. “That way, it justifies her behavior at the engagement party.”
“If necessary, we’ll release the medical report.”
“Medical report?” I turn toward my mother.
“Yes, her family showed it to me.”
“Excellent. Let’s get moving on this; maybe the stock will stabilize.”
Am I really this out of it? Even the company’s stock was affected? This is a nightmare!
I head to my office with a driver; I’m in no condition to drive.
I check the spreadsheets on the computer, request reports from my assistant. It’s a disaster.
As if things couldn’t get worse, David shows up to add fuel to my personal hell. He places a thick folder on my desk. I spread my arms in a shrug. No idea what that means. He sits across from me, scratches his neck, huffs. For God’s sake!
“She’s on our payroll,” his deep voice reaches me. My expression must be blank because he offers a single detail. “Lara.”
“What a brilliant idea, giving her a job. Seriously, David?”
“For four years. The lead electrical engineer in S?o Paulo.”
“Electrical engineer?” Disbelief surges through me. I grab the phone, dial. “Get in here.”
Seconds later, Olavo bursts in, out of breath.
“What’s the emergency now? For you to summon me like that, it must be...”
“Sit,” I order, my tone unchanged, pointing to the chair on the other side of my desk, next to David. “Show him.”
“She’s...”
“Show him,” I interrupt coldly. I’m hanging by a thread. Incompetence has its limits. I point to the folder.
David takes it, points to the spot, and hands it to Olavo, who goes pale. I lean forward over the desk, eyes locked on him. I realize I’ve become my father.
“How could you, CEO of the construction company, not know that Lara Alcantara Borbón is part of our staff? How could you not know that our female employees are whores?” I slam my fist on the wood, making everything rattle. Two pairs of wide eyes snap toward me.
“Breathe, Adam,” David says with maddening calm.
“Explain, Olavo,” I demand.
“I...” A few drops of sweat form on his forehead; his words come painfully slow. “...found out about this last week.”
“Last week? Olavo!” David loses his patience.
“Look, I found out, I checked—she’s an excellent employee, does her job well. There was no reason to make a fuss. What our employees do outside the company is none of our business.”
“When they’re prostituting themselves, it is!” I explode.
“They don’t...”
“They?”
“The women. The women who work...”
“Get real, Olavo!” David is on his feet, pacing. “This would be a juicy story for the press. Damn! Good thing you’re nowhere near the PR department,” he says with a nervous laugh.
“Fire her,” I say. Both turn to me. I point to David. “Draft a statement with the medical diagnosis—I don’t know—say we offered treatment, she refused.”
“Adam, that’s...” David starts to say something, then changes course. “Consider it done.” He takes out his phone. Clearly uncomfortable. He puts it away. He looks at me, but it’s like he doesn’t actually see me. “There’s one more thing... serious.”
“All right, when we hit rock bottom here, let me know. Go ahead, hit me with it.”
“When I verified the data the press uncovered, I noticed some discrepancies—numbers that don’t add up. Financial issues. Significant management errors. I flagged them in this other folder. Brought it for you. There are no copies.”
I look from one to the other. Olavo, head bowed, face in his hands, looks like a lamb to the slaughter. He feels guilty—I can’t deal with that right now.
My father making mistakes? He decided to stay on as CEO of Amazing View FIIs because he’s excellent at what he does. It doesn’t make any sense. Fraud? Impossible. Archibald Devereaux is the most honest person I know. He prides himself on never having resorted to... no, impossible.
“This doesn’t leave this room,” I state the obvious.
“I’m with you, Adam, just say the word and I’ll chart a course...”
He goes silent at my hand gesture. Shit, I’m my father.
“Leave me alone,” I say. I look at David. “Don’t cover anything up, but make sure no one else finds out before we’ve figured out how to handle this.”
He nods and leaves. Olavo stays put. Finally, he gets up, walks to the door, closes it. I take a deep breath.
“Only if it’s the kill shot,” I warn.
“Maybe...”
He sits on the sofa in front of me, hunches over, elbows on his knees, rubs his neck, his jaw. Shit, shit, shit! It’s something personal. And he doesn’t want David to know. I swallow my own pain, get up, and sit beside him. I wait.
“Bárbara,” he says.
I wait.
“That’s Tatá’s name.”
“Holy shit!” I stand up—I can’t even look at him right now. What does this mean? What the fuck is this?
“She heads the civil engineering department in S?o Paulo.”
“Seriously?” I turn to him, voice dripping with sarcasm.
“And what department does Titi work in at Devereaux Amazing View? Tell me now, so we can put out a mass termination notice for the prostitutes. Oh, how wonderful—they can be known as the Devereaux Whores! Maybe DAV Whores? They could even make a documentary. What do you think, Olavo?” He stares at me, frozen. “What? Want to spice it up some more?”
He shakes his head frantically.
“Titi’s a pilot or something like that—nothing to do with Devereaux.” He pauses, takes a deep breath. “Adam, please,” his voice catches, “I’m begging you, don’t fire Bárbara.”
“Do you think I was wrong to fire Lara?” I challenge him. The truth is, I’m challenging myself.
“No... you do what you think is best, of course.”
“Then we’re done. Are we finished?”
As insensitive as I may seem, given his obvious suffering, it’s impossible to continue this conversation—confession—whatever it is.
In a few moments he’ll cry and drag me down with him.
I know it. I know him better than I know myself.
When he’s drunk, he never gets to this point. Sober? He’s a champion.
Olavo gets up, smoothing his pants over his thighs. Buying time. I hear him turn the doorknob. The click alerts me. It awakens a memory buried under so many problems.
“Tell me you didn’t invite her to the wedding like you said you would when we got back from that damn bachelor party.”
He doesn’t look at me, keeps his back turned, holding the doorknob. He turns his head slightly so I can hear him.
“I uninvited her after what Lara did.”
“Good.” Once again, I feel like my father.
I reread the notes, everything David pointed out.
How could I have been so careless? I lean back in the leather chair, rubbing my temples.
How could he let it get to this point? How do I handle this with my father?
Anyone else would be dealt with swiftly.
We trusted my father’s abilities too much.
He pushed so hard for me to take over as president...
I get up, walk to the glass wall, look at the city below.
I’m as small as everyone else. Being on top doesn’t mean anything—it just changes the perspective.
There’s a knock at the door.
Olavo enters. Since when does he knock? I sense another storm coming. He approaches. Extends a manila envelope, letter-sized. As soon as I take it, he leaves my office in silence. I pull out the sheet. I read.
Not even the soft-close mechanism on Olavo’s door can soften the impact when I burst in like a typhoon.
“What kind of bullshit is this?” I throw the envelope on his desk.
Silence.
I look around. He’s not joking. The office is nearly empty. Sealed boxes everywhere.
“Of course I’ll only take what I brought or bought with my own money.
” He continues placing objects in the box on his desk.
“I got your email. I’ve already notified S?o Paulo headquarters.
They’ll be fired,” he looks at me defiantly, “and they’ll receive everything they’re entitled to.
They weren’t fired for cause or through any legal loophole to avoid paying them what they’re owed. ”
“This is ridiculous, Olavo!”
“No, it’s not. It’s their right.”
“I’m talking about you. What you’re doing. You’ve never even stood up to your parents. They won’t accept this.”
“Almost thirty, Adam—it’s about time.” He smiles weakly. “Call it delayed adolescence, if you prefer.”