Brad, page 25
“I only know first names. Donna, an intern in engineering, and Diane from the file room.”
Brad helped her to the couch. Before sitting next to her, he got a bottle of water out of the mini-fridge and opened it for her. The cold water shocked her dry mouth.
She knew Phillip had picked up the desk phone to call someone, but she didn’t know who and couldn’t make out what he said through the roaring in her ears. She looked up at Brad. “I don’t know if I can work in a place where I’m such a source of gossip again. I barely survived the last time. It was only because it was Dixon that I even stayed.”
He cupped her cheek with his warm hand and wiped at a tear with his thumb. “I can’t stand the thought of someone hurting you this way, but the idea that you would stop whatever is happening between us because of catty women gossiping doesn’t resonate well with me, either.” His touch was gentle, his words soft, but his eyes stormed with emotion. Fury, concern, care. “It should bother you that they think so low of you.”
Phillip walked toward them. “I have HR coming to my office. You want in?”
“No. Do whatever you can.” He didn’t break eye contact with Valerie while he spoke.
“What are you going to do?” Valerie demanded, pushing away from Brad and standing.
“That’s what I’m going to find out.” He put a hand on the door handle.
Brad speculated, “Chances are good that there’s absolutely nothing we can do outside of a first written warning and some mandatory retraining on our company policies. But they’ll know they overstepped, regardless.”
Phillip said, “Doesn’t apply to the intern. There are dozens of interns waiting in the wings. She can go back to school with a letter to the dean for all I care.”
“Uncle Phillip,” Valerie said on a sigh, but Brad held up a hand.
“Let him protect you.” He put both hands on her shoulders. “Be thankful I’m not going with him. If I did, I might have to take some retraining under the supervision of HR.”
She leaned forward and put her forehead on his chest. His arms came around her and she felt so very safe. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath through her nose, feeling better, less panicky, more in control. Finally, she gripped the collar of his suit jacket and lifted her head. He looked down at her, his eyes less stormy, calmer too. Without a word, he cupped her cheeks with both hands and lowered his mouth. When he hesitated, she tightened her grip and pulled him to her as she raised up on her toes to meet his mouth.
For weeks she had wondered what kissing Brad would feel like, but nothing she imagined even came close. The second their lips met the remaining traces of the panic attack slipped away.
His lips felt warm, soft, and as she took a deep breath through her nose, the smell of his aftershave filled her senses. She placed a hand on his cheek, feeling the smooth skin under her palm, and he pulled her even closer, deepening the kiss as she wrapped an arm around his neck and stood on her toes. She felt like she could just stay like this forever, letting Brad consume her every thought, her head spinning, her heart pounding, her toes curling. She felt his hand on the back of her head, gripping her hair and holding her steady as he kissed her and kissed her.
She didn’t know who ended the kiss. It just gradually became gentler, until he lifted his mouth and brushed it over her cheeks, her eyes, her forehead, then wrapped his arms around her again. How long they stood there, she didn’t know. But she listened against his thick chest as his heartbeat slowed from fast and furious to steady and strong.
Finally, she stepped back and broke the contact with him. She ran her hands down the sides of her dress and looked at him. He slipped his hands into his pockets and stared at her without speaking.
“Well,” she said on a breath, “I think that’s way better than it would have been in the grocery store.”
He chuckled softly and smiled. “You’re probably wrong. I think it would have been amazing anywhere.”
“I guess we’ll never know.” She crossed the office and put a hand on the door handle. “Thanks for bringing me back from the panic vortex.”
“Well, as long as I’m useful.”
Laughing, light, walking on air, she floated from his office and went back to work.
A deep, cleansing breath helped steel Brad as he walked into the meeting. They had already had one HR issue today. He did not look forward to the coming confrontation. Jon looked at him with a raised eyebrow. “Ready?”
“As ever, I guess,” he said under his breath, and opened the conference room door.
Mitch Conway sat at the head of the conference table. A video of backhoes digging up dirt played on the screen behind him. Six men sat around the table, copies of a scheduling report in front of them.
When Brad and Jon entered, everyone looked up, surprised. Mitch scowled and said, “Can I help you, gentlemen?”
Brad stood at the end of the table, facing Mitch. Jon sat down to his right. “I have been going over the schedule and the jobsite meeting minutes, Mitch, and I’m afraid that I can’t see how you’re so far behind.”
He’d preloaded the computer and overrode the presentation Mitch had begun with his own. A chart appeared showing the original schedule and the current progress. “I see no weather concerns, no equipment concerns, and no true site issues. What I see is a water treatment facility outside of Lexington, Kentucky, that required the initial plumbing work for the building to be started by April first, and we’re still looking at pictures of site work equipment. I’d like you to explain.”
Mitch stood and faced Brad across the table. He’d worked for Dixon Contracting for seventeen years and had challenged Brad from the moment he started taking over for his father. Someone overheard him saying that the “boys” hadn’t earned his respect yet. Brad had let it go until now, because historically, Mitch knew his job as a project manager and did it well. But with this Kentucky job, something obviously had happened.
A source on the site informed Brad that Mitch would show up on the site maybe three days a week, Tuesday through Thursday, and never made an appearance on a Friday or a Monday. It turned out he had been spending four-day weekends in casinos in Indiana just across the Kentucky River. Initial inquiries with the jobsite computers and a dig into Mitch’s finances revealed some serious financial stress coupled with what Brad discovered were some heavy gambling debts.
Brad suspected that Mitch had cut a shady deal with the site work contractor, which allowed the contractor to overbill Dixon Contracting for extra time and resources needed on a site that didn’t require extra time or resources. It caused Brad to order a full audit on all Mitch’s jobs going back ten years, and he started to see a trend.
“Your daddy is the one who assigned me to this job. I suggest that if you have a problem with my management of it, then you take it up with him.” He sat back down as if he’d said all Brad needed to hear.
“I’m afraid it doesn’t work like that,” Brad said, still standing. “I asked you a very specific question, and I won’t repeat it. But you have about three seconds to give me an answer before this conversation goes where you don’t want it to go.”
Mitch did not stand again and sat passively still for the three seconds. Brad finally nodded. “I’m putting Edward Branson in charge of this project. Mitch, you can gather your things and meet me in security.”
He surged to his feet and rushed toward Brad. “I will not take direction from some spoiled, pompous, little rich kid who thinks he has power over me just because he wears a tie!” he yelled.
When he reached Brad, he tried to grab him by the jacket front, but Brad sidestepped and performed a Tae Kwon Do move that had Mitch landing on the ground with his feet swiped out from under him. He kept a hold on the man’s wrist with both hands and used it to keep him subdued.
Brad carefully placed a foot on Mitch’s chest and looked up, spotting the security team he’d called to be on standby outside the glass wall of the conference room. He nodded them forward. It was then he spotted Valerie standing with a couple other people who had gathered when the commotion started.
As soon as the security team had secured Mitch and escorted him down to the security office where they would wait for the police, Brad and Jon moved to the head of the table. “If anyone else has a problem with my authority over this company, I invite you to voice your concerns now.” He paused for a minute. “Nothing? Now is the time to say something.”
Straightening his jacket and the cuffs of his shirt, he sat at the head of the table. He ignored the slight tremble in his fingers knowing that adrenaline caused it. No one moved nor spoke. After a brief pause, Brad nodded and said, “I’m putting Edward Branson in charge of this project. He’s spent the week reviewing what’s going on and is ready to answer any questions any of you may have. We will be replacing the site work contractor and we will be fast-tracking from this point forward. Ed will let me know if we have to crash the project to meet our deadlines, but make no mistake gentlemen, we are going to meet our deadlines from this moment on.”
He looked up as the conference room door opened and Ed Branson ambled inside. “Ed, I believe you know everyone.”
Valerie sat in her desk chair and stared at the screen in front of her. She didn’t see the layout of a hospital atrium. Instead, she saw how effortlessly and easily Brad had restrained an angry man. She knew he’d studied martial arts his entire childhood and adolescence. She had no idea he would ever have a reason to put that study into use in the real world.
The idea that he had done it without flinching, without hesitating, without breaking a sweat. She had witnessed it. After security removed Mitch, Brad just went on with business as usual just as cool as a cucumber. No regrets? No remorse? What did that mean?
A sharp rapping sound startled her and broke her out of her thoughts. “Come in,” she called, picking up a pen to make it look like she hadn’t actually sat here for the last twenty minutes staring into space.
When Brad walked into the office, her heart leaped almost painfully in her chest. Sweat broke out on her forehead and she stammered as she stood up. “B-brad,” she said, then took a sip from her water and started over. “Hi, Brad.”
He walked to her desk and slipped his hands into his pockets. “Valerie,” he said softly, “tell me what’s going on in your mind. What are you thinking about right this second?”
“I’m just working on the hospital in—”
“I didn’t ask what you’re working on.” His voice had taken a hard edge to it. He took a step closer and his pants leg brushed against the edge of the desk. “I asked what is going on in your mind. Please answer the question I asked you.”
Fear clouded her vision. She recognized the flight response and closed her eyes, putting a hand on her forehead. “I saw you….” Lowering her hand and opening her eyes, she said again, “I saw you and you didn’t even hesitate. And he hit the ground like he weighed nothing. How could you do that so easily?”
“The truth is, Valerie, that I knew he would attack me. I’d seen him do it to another man once on a job site when I was a teenager. I saw him lose his temper another time and beat a board into the ground until it broke in half. His wife left him a long time ago and they aren’t on speaking terms. I suspect I know why.”
She processed that information. “Still, you—”
“Planned for it,” he said every syllable very crisply. “I practiced with Jon this morning before work. I utilized my training, pulled my black belt memory forward, and practiced a couple scenarios that ended up without anyone seriously hurt.” He tapped the top of her desk as if making a point. “You realize security was all around that conference room. That was also at my direction. I’d planned for all of it.”
Everything came together clearly for her. “Oh,” she said, feeling foolish, relaxing so rapidly that her neck muscles ached. “Oh.”
“Yeah. Oh.” He turned to leave and turned back around. “You know what? I have never hurt another human being in my life with any intention. This morning was self-defense, and I restrained him without hurting him. You saw me do it, but I could tell by the look in your eyes that you assigned all sorts of uncharitable motives to my actions and my intent.”
He turned again and walked toward the door. “Brad!” He turned around and saw her rushing toward him. “I’m sorry.”
“You’re sorry?” He closed his eyes and she saw the anger cross his face. When he opened them again, he glared at her. “How many more times in your life are you going to apologize to me?” He put his hand on the doorknob. “I don’t want sorry, Valerie. I want you to know deep in your soul that you do not have to be afraid of me. I want you never to assume I’m about to beat you up or hurt you in any way. Because, the truth is, I’d kill anyone who tried. I want you to realize that I have loved you from the moment I had the maturity to process those emotions, and that if you had only understood that at the time, none of this would have had to happen. And it kills me that it did. It kills me inside. But I am not Tyrone, and I would never, ever, hurt you physically, or emotionally, or spiritually.”
He opened the door to leave but hesitated and shut it again. “When you believe that, you can come find me. Until then, I cannot deal with you looking at me in fear. I won’t.”
When he left, she leaned her shoulder against the closed door and covered her eyes with her hand, trying desperately to hold back the flood of tears. How could she stop reacting? Where would that come from?
He had said he loved her and if she had realized it, none of it would have happened? It seemed unfair to put that on her. Why hadn’t he stepped up and told her how he felt at the time? How could he mean what he said? Did he really feel that way?
Of course, he didn’t. He just dramatically assigned current adult emotions to a childhood memory of fondness brought on by proximity. If he’d loved her like that, she would have known. She so desperately had wanted him to. And then what? What would that mean?
She wiped the tears from her eyes and straightened. It meant nothing. The past happened and she couldn’t go back and fix it, and neither could he. How dare he say something like that?
She stormed back to her desk and plopped down into the chair. She would not go find him. He could just keep his blame and accusations to himself and come to her when he was ready to apologize.
Brad swung the sledgehammer and felt the drywall give under the force of the blow. He pulled back and swung, again and again, making a giant hole in the wall. After about ten solid minutes of swinging, he set the hammer down and took off his safety glasses, wiping at the sweat on his face with his shoulder.
The apartment door opened, and his father came in. “Safe entry?” he joked.
“Sure. Stopping for a minute.”
“Glad to see you found a useful outlet for your moping.” Phillip walked over to the room plan hanging on the wall. He studied it and then turned and studied the room.
“Is that what I’m doing?” He tossed the glasses onto the floor next to the hammer and took off his work gloves. “Moping?”
“Seems like. I heard what happened with Mitch today.”
“Well, of course you did. People still consider you in charge.” He sounded like a bratty teenager and reigned in that attitude.
“Well,” Philip said with a deep breath, “I was in charge for a long, long time. As long as I am present, it’s going to be something people think. As this next year, my last year, comes up, I will be spending less time there and the transfer of power will be complete and permanent.” He leaned back against the kitchen bar and crossed his feet at his ankles. “But I don’t mind that you said that. You, of course, are just venting in your way. So, what happened with Mitch?”
Brad told him the story. “Jon and I had sparred in the morning to prepare for that eventuality.”
“This isn’t your fault, you know.” Phillip sighed. “I should have done something about him a long time ago.”
“It’s easy not to act when you don’t have anything concrete. You have a lot of employees, dad. You can only do what you can do and know what you know.”
“You knew, though.” He sat forward and propped his elbows on his knees. “You knew enough to know. Maybe….”
“Maybe we need to let people be people and not judge based on suspicions. I was prepared. I would have preferred to be wrong.”
Philip inclined his head in an agreement. “Then we’ll leave it at that.” He gestured toward the hole. “And the venting? The moping? I assume it has something to do with a beautiful architect who was slandered in our little workplace today and who has occupied so many of your thoughts over the years?”
“Maybe she won’t occupy them so much anymore.” He walked to the bar and grabbed his bottle of water. “I should have followed my instincts before. There was a time for us, but too many things have changed.”
Philip sighed. “I would reckon, son, that she has no idea what you went through. I would imagine that to her, you said goodbye at graduation and then life went on for you without a second thought of her.”
“Why in the world would she think that, dad?”
“Because you never once, not even one time, told her how you felt, did you?”
Brad opened his mouth then closed it again. Had he? Surely…. He sighed. “No. I just pined and wished.”
“Silently.”
“Silently.” He drained the bottle and crushed it. “I should have said something.”
“Even if it was to give her something to think about. She could have easily rejected you, of course, but at least you would have tried. Now you’re angry with her for leaving you. For putting herself in harm’s way. That has to stop, son. She’s not at fault here. She was a victim of smooth-talking seduction by a predator, plain and simple.”
His dad left not long after. Brad put the gloves back on, slipped the glasses onto his face, and picked up the sledgehammer. As he swung and broke drywall, he thought about it. He had harbored some anger toward her, some blame. Rather unhealthy thinking.
