What Eyes Can't See, page 12
“It’s all you, Becca. All I did was negotiate a settlement with MOD’s publisher.”
“Don’t you see? Without your legal skills, I wouldn't have the resources to start a new business. I owe you everything.”
“That was the most fun I’d had in years, doing that pro-bono for you,” I said.
“Why can’t you ‘bono,’ and get paid?” Leslie asked.
“Is that even a word?” Rebecca teased.
“You get my meaning. Barbara, there are oodles of people out there who need a champion to help them fight the big guys. There’s got to be a business in there.”
She had a point. Rebecca was a living example of how you could strike out on your own and forge an independent path. I could try. Instead of using side projects to fill my emotional well, it could be my full-time profession. Feel emotionally whole AND make money? If you’d asked me a week ago whether my career satisfied me, I would have said absolutely yes. It took having it yanked out from under me to wake me to the fact that it left me hollowed out. I’d just been too busy to notice. A movie reel showing my potential future flickered across my mind. I envisioned a Bat Signal searching the sky of Manhattan, drawing me to people in need so we could crush the bad guys.
It was a fun thought, and certainly better than no thought at all.
“Thanks gals. You’ve given me a great idea to start with.” I lifted my empty goblet. “I’m ready for a refill now. And if we don’t eat soon, my first lawsuit will be against you two.”
Leslie and Rebecca suppressed smiles.
I was back.
Chapter 20
Sebastian
Barbara didn’t make it in today. I had to cover for her on a few projects, ruffling feathers and garnering some whispers from her fellow legal team leaders gathered around the table with me. I suggested they be more sensitive; anything more would’ve sounded defensive.
Everyone knew the deal.
It sucked to lose a promotion. Chen was taking it decently well, but her head wasn’t on the chopping block. She owed her job to the woman she just insulted behind her back.
The petty culture of Xervo would take getting used to. A larger company with more seasoned professionals meant more ladder climbing and catty gossip. Hopefully, I could nip that behavior from our team. But changing the rest of the staff would require a bigger mandate than my two-week tenure commanded. For now, I’d stomached enough.
“Let’s adjourn until tomorrow.” I flipped my notebook closed and rose, expecting everyone to join me. Instead, they sat darting sideways glances at each other.
“What?” I asked
Elizabeth reclined in her chair, flipping a pen in a blur between two fingers. “Rumor mill has it that there are going to be layoffs.”
Braeden, another lawyer, shrugged. “With Barbara out, we wondered…”
“Some rumors are true, some are false.” I scratched my stubble, looking for a safe spot to stare while I lied. Their attention seared into me. But if they expected me to leak intel, they’d be sorely disappointed.
“As the legal team, we must hold confidences. We have access to the company’s most sensitive information. Us gossiping undermines trust in our ability to keep quiet when needed. Am I making myself clear?”
Elizabeth rolled her eyes. “I didn’t start the rumor, if that’s what you’re implying.”
“Maybe not, but gleefully spreading the news is a bad look. Think twice next time.”
I strode out of the room, not waiting for my pack of hyenas to follow. Every moment since I arrived at Xervo felt like a monumental mistake. Should I quit? It’d screw Barr and keep my brain from exploding with frustration.
I was mid-way past reception when Yvonne hailed me.
“Mr. Barr wants to see you.”
Fantastic.
He was pacing, combing his blondish hair with his fingers.
“Ah, good. You’re here.” He slid a stack of files across his desk. “Review these profiles for the rest of the expendable workers. Tell me if you find any red flags.”
“And if I do?”
“We’ll figure it out.”
“What about Ms. Washington? If I find a reg flag there?”
He narrowed his gaze. “You won’t.”
Back in my office, I started rifling through the files, each with an employee ID and picture attached. It didn’t take long for a worrisome pattern to smack me across the face. For a company Xervo’s size, with as little diversity as we had, the layoff list was a gut punch. I checked and only 3% of our workers were from marginalized groups. Half of Barr’s “expendables” were employees of color.
Then something clicked.
I shuffled the folders around to find the ones I’d arm-twisted from human resources. The HR director kept stalling until I shot her my best “stop fucking with me look.” Now I understood her reluctance. The numbers showed few candidates of color passed through the screening process to earn job interviews. And that’s following their sorry attempt at recruitment. You’d think they’d realize and make active steps to fix it. Nada. It’s almost like they didn’t notice the neon billboard blinking in their faces.
What’s worse, Xervo had an unusually high number of no-fault settled dismissals. These were one-off, negotiated separations that weren’t part of larger layoffs. They expertly hid their dirty dealings with a steady turnover drip that rivaled a leaky faucet. Only this was a human-made problem.
If they barely let qualified candidates of color in the door, then cut them loose at the first opportunity, they were seriously falling short of EEOC requirements. Not only that, they were illegally discriminating. No way this would stand up in court if workers got wind of the practices. Which was probably why they guarded access to the information.
They didn’t want anyone to know.
But instead of hiding the wrongdoing, why not stop it? There was no benefit to risking the company’s future over some backward beliefs stuck in the Jim Crow South. They were losing great workers. The employee records showed as much. It was a senseless crusade of one small-minded frat boy.
Damn.
I’d been had, but good. But now that I knew, walking away was a no-go. Despite everyone in the neighborhood tagging me as a quitter, that wasn’t me. I hadn’t abandoned my friends. I saw through their false promises. Their lies of security and family. Their shortcut to a rich future of cars, jewelry, and endless partying. There was no better wake-up call than armed guards pacing outside your locked door. They’d tell you when to get up, when to eat, and when to shit. No amount of sweet talk could erase the echoes of metal bars slamming closed.
That’s where Barr belonged. If I wasn’t going to leave, what would I do with the information I discovered? Every path forward led to the man at the heart of it all. As an employee, I had to tread carefully. If they caught wind, they’d fire me, smile, and continue on like nothing happened. The idea of staying here made me want to puke. They hired the wrong guy for the right role. I had power. Good people worked here and deserved better. Instead of joining Barr’s underworld, I’d fight for the staff. I couldn’t save this latest group of wronged employees. But I could stop what Xervo did to Barbara from happening again. The hard part would be keeping this news from her.
Liar. You’re already hiding who you are. What’s one more secret?
I’m not hiding it. It never came up.
Besides, that’s not who I am anymore. Who I was as a teen doesn’t define the man I am now.
You’re afraid she’d drop you like a stone if she found out. The past is calling…
Only yesterday, I found out Dante spread rumors in the neighborhood that I leave my bedroom window unlocked.
Think Barbara needs that kind of baggage right now?
Not likely.
I packed up for the day, hating myself for not being able to save her.
Chapter 21
Barbara
The layoff announcement came two weeks later. By then, I had rehearsed my shocked expression in the mirror so many times my cheeks hurt. Fortunately for me, Mr. Barr did the deed. He looked miffed that Sebastian chose to work from home. So much so, he began griping to me about his General Counsel. Part of me wondered whether Sebastian was intentionally tanking to save my job; prompting them to fire him instead. But no such luck. My tenure at Xervo ended today. The generous severance would hopefully suffice until I landed something new.
As I packed the last box, my every move echoed off the walls of the cavernous room, robbed of contents to muffle the sound. Empty shelves. Naked picture hangers centered within clean patches of paint where my degrees formerly hung. A desk free of legal briefs. All removed. I’d made multiple trips to the car service vehicle parked in the underground garage. Still more boxes to haul to Dad’s apartment.
He stunned me with his indifference about my layoff. Not only that, Dad’s obnoxious optimism made losing my dream job sound like no big deal. This from a man who’d stew for weeks if he lost at Monopoly. His bizarre reaction, coupled with his inability to maintain eye contact, didn’t add up.
I was out of work for the first time and no one seemed to care.
Maybe that was my fault. I projected a fiercely independent persona when I craved a caped superhero rescue. Or at the very least, someone to point me in the right direction and tell me everything would be okay. I’d never felt less fierce, and that scared me more than anything else.
My job had always defined me, setting guardrails for my life giving me purpose. When meeting people, I introduce myself as Barbara Washington, lawyer and daughter of the great Gregory Washington. Without a title to anchor me, who was I? And did I matter?
From here on out, I’d have plenty of time to decide.
I slipped on my trench coat, leaving it open and the belt hanging. Stacking the last two boxes atop each other, I headed for the elevator. Yvonne shot me a sad look from behind her reception desk.
“Is that everything?” she said.
“Yes.” I looked around the lobby, remembering it when I first arrived. Before the remodeling and fancy furnishings. It’d grown so much since I started, and I had too. Now I knew otherwise.
She rose and walked to where I stood. “You’ll be fine. Smart women like you always are.”
Yvonne spoke to me, but the words likely reassured herself. Staying after layoffs was no picnic, either.
“Guess we’ll find out.” I turned toward the elevator as she returned to her desk.
Mechanical workings echoed down the empty shaft, a void that suddenly sounded very appealing.
I shifted the weight between my arms, wondering which door would open. Which car would take me to the lobby for the very last time? I heard whispers of other people standing behind me and turned to find fellow castoffs toting their own menagerie of belongings. Some in shopping bags, others in boxes. We wore the same lost expression, unable to console or even acknowledge each other. It took me a moment to realize of the six of us waiting, five shared the same complexion. For an already non-diverse company, they couldn’t afford to lose this group of talent.
Yvonne’s unease came into focus. With us gone, Yvonne was the only woman of color left in the New York office. Elizabeth Chen had been missing for a week, but her status remained fuzzy. The one time I tried to reach her, I got an automatic reply directing me to Sebastian.
I watched Yvonne where she sat slumped, arms in her lap.
Then it clicked.
How did Barr choose who to dismiss? Each person toting boxes I knew to be a solid employee. Meanwhile, lesser performers remained. That’s not the pecking order I would have chosen. What bullshit. Barr could keep his company and shove it.
I pressed the call button four times with my elbow, willing one of the doors to open. Xervo wanted me gone, and I shared the sentiment.
Once crammed in the closed elevator, my frustration flew out my mouth. “This layoff stinks to high heaven. If you’re okay exchanging personal information, I’d love to stay connected as I do some digging. We may have some legal options.”
The sideways glances were almost as epic as the silence.
“If I find we have a valid claim, I’ll need a way to contact you.”
Slow nods rounded the elevator, but each waited for someone else to speak. No one wanted to be first to join the mutiny. But only crew members mutinied, and our boxed belongings and jobless selves made it clear we didn’t qualify.
“Ms. Washington,” Portia began. I hadn’t seen her since her visit to my office asking me to sponsor her employees of color resource group. How ironic that Xervo had just purged the majority of us eligible to join.
A pang of regret rippled through me. I should have followed up, but it was too late. If I had taken it more seriously, and sooner, maybe we wouldn’t be jobless castoffs.
“No offense, but I can’t risk future career opportunities by suing my last employer. It makes zero sense.”
Nods abandoned me to rally to her side. If we only worked on a lower floor, I’d have had my crew. But they’d already jumped ship. Once this elevator hit the lobby, we’d scatter and finding them would be difficult.
“If there’s a way to hold the company accountable, you’re honestly saying you wouldn’t be interested?”
Portia steeled her back. “That’s exactly what I’m saying. Who would hire me if I took part in something like that? We don’t all have fancy law degrees and two-thousand-dollar shoes!”
Melvin, from facilities, snickered, then burst out laughing. The rest joined in.
I withered inside. Is this what everyone believed? That I was nothing but a spoiled rich kid rolling in money? I looked down at my trademark Louboutin pumps, and for the first time, shame gnawed at my psyche. They weren’t two thousand, but were likely closer to that than to the price tag of the shoes they wore.
In all my years of ladder climbing, trying to fit in with those in circles I aspired to join, never once did I consider how I appeared to junior staffers. Or to those from different economic backgrounds. Wealth was something I had always admired and assumed others felt the same way. The chorus of jeers from my elevator mates made it clear I was wrong.
Mumbling and jokes continued until we hit the lobby, and they all jostled past me to exit. I stayed behind in the now empty car, my garage level button still illuminated. A Town Car waited for me below with the rest of my belongings. Yet another sign I was orbiting a different world than they were.
The last thing I saw as the doors closed was Portia flicking her head in my direction before she and Melvin shared a laugh at my expense. Apparently, they thought I could afford it.
By the time I hauled my boxes upstairs to Dad’s apartment. I was sweaty and defeated. Saul offered to get the luggage cart, but I refused. I barely heard him over the mocking laughter ringing in my ears. Imagine what they’d say?
“She had a taxi and a bellhop. I had to drag them home myself on the subway.”
Fuck that and fuck them.
I took one look at Saul’s green uniform with gold embellishments and hated myself. I stormed into the lobby and dragged every box out of the car myself, walking each up to my apartment, one by one.
Dad’s office door was open, but I headed to my room. I peeled off my blouse and slacks, then tugged on jeans and a T-shirt before crossing to the kitchen for a glass of cold water. I downed the first one, then refilled it again from the dispenser on the fridge before making my way to my dad’s study.
I was halfway across the living room when his conversation stopped me dead in my tracks.
Did he just say Xervo?
I crept closer to listen to his agitated voice.
“It was not an untenable delay! The Xervo RIF was 37 people.”
I’d always hated that dehumanizing word. If you plan one, man-up and own the language. We were laid off. But why was Dad talking about Xervo?
“Once they come off the books, finance said it will add 20% to Xervo’s free cash flow. Yes. It matches the venture deal’s contract terms. You’ll get updated paperwork later today.”
Venture capital? Free cash flow? My mind whirled. Xervo padded its bank account at our expense, trying to sweeten its chances for a private equity deal.
I gagged, covering my mouth and grateful I hadn’t eaten since yesterday. If not, I’d have a colossal mess to clean up on the floor. Though I might still. Murdering my dad was definitely on the table.
Was he going to gain financially from me losing my job? Collateral damage in a high-stakes game of poker? We were real people, and they were destroying lives. And for what? Was that why he was so chipper about my layoff? Did it mean a windfall for him and Barr?
I approached the door, then withdrew, clenching my fists in a sorry attempt to control my anger. I stormed to a lamp and heaved it over my head. Only the strained electrical cord tethered to the outlet kept me from chucking it against the wall.
“Argh!” I held it aloft, panting, not sure what to do with myself, or it, before setting it down.
How dare he? Is this how he made his living? How he afforded our top-shelf lifestyle? Our vacations, our school tuition, the expensive clothes, and homes?
A veil lifted, objects in the room vibrated with the energy of those sacrificed to attain them. The custom upholstery. The imported curtains and rugs. The knick-knacks bought while on lavish foreign trips. I’d never given much thought to how we afforded it all. What my dad did all day to give us such a fine life. A privileged one by any measure.
I took pride in his keen legal mind, wearing it as a badge of honor. People averted their eyes when Gregory Washington passed.
“Yes, Mr. Washington.”
“Right away, Mr. Washington.”
“My mistake, Mr. Washington.”
I’d always taken these exchanges as evidence of respect. That he wasn’t a man to trifle with. Given our family reputation and his constant demands for honesty and integrity, I never suspected he played by different rules. But why bother demanding from others standards he didn’t uphold himself?
“Don’t you see? Without your legal skills, I wouldn't have the resources to start a new business. I owe you everything.”
“That was the most fun I’d had in years, doing that pro-bono for you,” I said.
“Why can’t you ‘bono,’ and get paid?” Leslie asked.
“Is that even a word?” Rebecca teased.
“You get my meaning. Barbara, there are oodles of people out there who need a champion to help them fight the big guys. There’s got to be a business in there.”
She had a point. Rebecca was a living example of how you could strike out on your own and forge an independent path. I could try. Instead of using side projects to fill my emotional well, it could be my full-time profession. Feel emotionally whole AND make money? If you’d asked me a week ago whether my career satisfied me, I would have said absolutely yes. It took having it yanked out from under me to wake me to the fact that it left me hollowed out. I’d just been too busy to notice. A movie reel showing my potential future flickered across my mind. I envisioned a Bat Signal searching the sky of Manhattan, drawing me to people in need so we could crush the bad guys.
It was a fun thought, and certainly better than no thought at all.
“Thanks gals. You’ve given me a great idea to start with.” I lifted my empty goblet. “I’m ready for a refill now. And if we don’t eat soon, my first lawsuit will be against you two.”
Leslie and Rebecca suppressed smiles.
I was back.
Chapter 20
Sebastian
Barbara didn’t make it in today. I had to cover for her on a few projects, ruffling feathers and garnering some whispers from her fellow legal team leaders gathered around the table with me. I suggested they be more sensitive; anything more would’ve sounded defensive.
Everyone knew the deal.
It sucked to lose a promotion. Chen was taking it decently well, but her head wasn’t on the chopping block. She owed her job to the woman she just insulted behind her back.
The petty culture of Xervo would take getting used to. A larger company with more seasoned professionals meant more ladder climbing and catty gossip. Hopefully, I could nip that behavior from our team. But changing the rest of the staff would require a bigger mandate than my two-week tenure commanded. For now, I’d stomached enough.
“Let’s adjourn until tomorrow.” I flipped my notebook closed and rose, expecting everyone to join me. Instead, they sat darting sideways glances at each other.
“What?” I asked
Elizabeth reclined in her chair, flipping a pen in a blur between two fingers. “Rumor mill has it that there are going to be layoffs.”
Braeden, another lawyer, shrugged. “With Barbara out, we wondered…”
“Some rumors are true, some are false.” I scratched my stubble, looking for a safe spot to stare while I lied. Their attention seared into me. But if they expected me to leak intel, they’d be sorely disappointed.
“As the legal team, we must hold confidences. We have access to the company’s most sensitive information. Us gossiping undermines trust in our ability to keep quiet when needed. Am I making myself clear?”
Elizabeth rolled her eyes. “I didn’t start the rumor, if that’s what you’re implying.”
“Maybe not, but gleefully spreading the news is a bad look. Think twice next time.”
I strode out of the room, not waiting for my pack of hyenas to follow. Every moment since I arrived at Xervo felt like a monumental mistake. Should I quit? It’d screw Barr and keep my brain from exploding with frustration.
I was mid-way past reception when Yvonne hailed me.
“Mr. Barr wants to see you.”
Fantastic.
He was pacing, combing his blondish hair with his fingers.
“Ah, good. You’re here.” He slid a stack of files across his desk. “Review these profiles for the rest of the expendable workers. Tell me if you find any red flags.”
“And if I do?”
“We’ll figure it out.”
“What about Ms. Washington? If I find a reg flag there?”
He narrowed his gaze. “You won’t.”
Back in my office, I started rifling through the files, each with an employee ID and picture attached. It didn’t take long for a worrisome pattern to smack me across the face. For a company Xervo’s size, with as little diversity as we had, the layoff list was a gut punch. I checked and only 3% of our workers were from marginalized groups. Half of Barr’s “expendables” were employees of color.
Then something clicked.
I shuffled the folders around to find the ones I’d arm-twisted from human resources. The HR director kept stalling until I shot her my best “stop fucking with me look.” Now I understood her reluctance. The numbers showed few candidates of color passed through the screening process to earn job interviews. And that’s following their sorry attempt at recruitment. You’d think they’d realize and make active steps to fix it. Nada. It’s almost like they didn’t notice the neon billboard blinking in their faces.
What’s worse, Xervo had an unusually high number of no-fault settled dismissals. These were one-off, negotiated separations that weren’t part of larger layoffs. They expertly hid their dirty dealings with a steady turnover drip that rivaled a leaky faucet. Only this was a human-made problem.
If they barely let qualified candidates of color in the door, then cut them loose at the first opportunity, they were seriously falling short of EEOC requirements. Not only that, they were illegally discriminating. No way this would stand up in court if workers got wind of the practices. Which was probably why they guarded access to the information.
They didn’t want anyone to know.
But instead of hiding the wrongdoing, why not stop it? There was no benefit to risking the company’s future over some backward beliefs stuck in the Jim Crow South. They were losing great workers. The employee records showed as much. It was a senseless crusade of one small-minded frat boy.
Damn.
I’d been had, but good. But now that I knew, walking away was a no-go. Despite everyone in the neighborhood tagging me as a quitter, that wasn’t me. I hadn’t abandoned my friends. I saw through their false promises. Their lies of security and family. Their shortcut to a rich future of cars, jewelry, and endless partying. There was no better wake-up call than armed guards pacing outside your locked door. They’d tell you when to get up, when to eat, and when to shit. No amount of sweet talk could erase the echoes of metal bars slamming closed.
That’s where Barr belonged. If I wasn’t going to leave, what would I do with the information I discovered? Every path forward led to the man at the heart of it all. As an employee, I had to tread carefully. If they caught wind, they’d fire me, smile, and continue on like nothing happened. The idea of staying here made me want to puke. They hired the wrong guy for the right role. I had power. Good people worked here and deserved better. Instead of joining Barr’s underworld, I’d fight for the staff. I couldn’t save this latest group of wronged employees. But I could stop what Xervo did to Barbara from happening again. The hard part would be keeping this news from her.
Liar. You’re already hiding who you are. What’s one more secret?
I’m not hiding it. It never came up.
Besides, that’s not who I am anymore. Who I was as a teen doesn’t define the man I am now.
You’re afraid she’d drop you like a stone if she found out. The past is calling…
Only yesterday, I found out Dante spread rumors in the neighborhood that I leave my bedroom window unlocked.
Think Barbara needs that kind of baggage right now?
Not likely.
I packed up for the day, hating myself for not being able to save her.
Chapter 21
Barbara
The layoff announcement came two weeks later. By then, I had rehearsed my shocked expression in the mirror so many times my cheeks hurt. Fortunately for me, Mr. Barr did the deed. He looked miffed that Sebastian chose to work from home. So much so, he began griping to me about his General Counsel. Part of me wondered whether Sebastian was intentionally tanking to save my job; prompting them to fire him instead. But no such luck. My tenure at Xervo ended today. The generous severance would hopefully suffice until I landed something new.
As I packed the last box, my every move echoed off the walls of the cavernous room, robbed of contents to muffle the sound. Empty shelves. Naked picture hangers centered within clean patches of paint where my degrees formerly hung. A desk free of legal briefs. All removed. I’d made multiple trips to the car service vehicle parked in the underground garage. Still more boxes to haul to Dad’s apartment.
He stunned me with his indifference about my layoff. Not only that, Dad’s obnoxious optimism made losing my dream job sound like no big deal. This from a man who’d stew for weeks if he lost at Monopoly. His bizarre reaction, coupled with his inability to maintain eye contact, didn’t add up.
I was out of work for the first time and no one seemed to care.
Maybe that was my fault. I projected a fiercely independent persona when I craved a caped superhero rescue. Or at the very least, someone to point me in the right direction and tell me everything would be okay. I’d never felt less fierce, and that scared me more than anything else.
My job had always defined me, setting guardrails for my life giving me purpose. When meeting people, I introduce myself as Barbara Washington, lawyer and daughter of the great Gregory Washington. Without a title to anchor me, who was I? And did I matter?
From here on out, I’d have plenty of time to decide.
I slipped on my trench coat, leaving it open and the belt hanging. Stacking the last two boxes atop each other, I headed for the elevator. Yvonne shot me a sad look from behind her reception desk.
“Is that everything?” she said.
“Yes.” I looked around the lobby, remembering it when I first arrived. Before the remodeling and fancy furnishings. It’d grown so much since I started, and I had too. Now I knew otherwise.
She rose and walked to where I stood. “You’ll be fine. Smart women like you always are.”
Yvonne spoke to me, but the words likely reassured herself. Staying after layoffs was no picnic, either.
“Guess we’ll find out.” I turned toward the elevator as she returned to her desk.
Mechanical workings echoed down the empty shaft, a void that suddenly sounded very appealing.
I shifted the weight between my arms, wondering which door would open. Which car would take me to the lobby for the very last time? I heard whispers of other people standing behind me and turned to find fellow castoffs toting their own menagerie of belongings. Some in shopping bags, others in boxes. We wore the same lost expression, unable to console or even acknowledge each other. It took me a moment to realize of the six of us waiting, five shared the same complexion. For an already non-diverse company, they couldn’t afford to lose this group of talent.
Yvonne’s unease came into focus. With us gone, Yvonne was the only woman of color left in the New York office. Elizabeth Chen had been missing for a week, but her status remained fuzzy. The one time I tried to reach her, I got an automatic reply directing me to Sebastian.
I watched Yvonne where she sat slumped, arms in her lap.
Then it clicked.
How did Barr choose who to dismiss? Each person toting boxes I knew to be a solid employee. Meanwhile, lesser performers remained. That’s not the pecking order I would have chosen. What bullshit. Barr could keep his company and shove it.
I pressed the call button four times with my elbow, willing one of the doors to open. Xervo wanted me gone, and I shared the sentiment.
Once crammed in the closed elevator, my frustration flew out my mouth. “This layoff stinks to high heaven. If you’re okay exchanging personal information, I’d love to stay connected as I do some digging. We may have some legal options.”
The sideways glances were almost as epic as the silence.
“If I find we have a valid claim, I’ll need a way to contact you.”
Slow nods rounded the elevator, but each waited for someone else to speak. No one wanted to be first to join the mutiny. But only crew members mutinied, and our boxed belongings and jobless selves made it clear we didn’t qualify.
“Ms. Washington,” Portia began. I hadn’t seen her since her visit to my office asking me to sponsor her employees of color resource group. How ironic that Xervo had just purged the majority of us eligible to join.
A pang of regret rippled through me. I should have followed up, but it was too late. If I had taken it more seriously, and sooner, maybe we wouldn’t be jobless castoffs.
“No offense, but I can’t risk future career opportunities by suing my last employer. It makes zero sense.”
Nods abandoned me to rally to her side. If we only worked on a lower floor, I’d have had my crew. But they’d already jumped ship. Once this elevator hit the lobby, we’d scatter and finding them would be difficult.
“If there’s a way to hold the company accountable, you’re honestly saying you wouldn’t be interested?”
Portia steeled her back. “That’s exactly what I’m saying. Who would hire me if I took part in something like that? We don’t all have fancy law degrees and two-thousand-dollar shoes!”
Melvin, from facilities, snickered, then burst out laughing. The rest joined in.
I withered inside. Is this what everyone believed? That I was nothing but a spoiled rich kid rolling in money? I looked down at my trademark Louboutin pumps, and for the first time, shame gnawed at my psyche. They weren’t two thousand, but were likely closer to that than to the price tag of the shoes they wore.
In all my years of ladder climbing, trying to fit in with those in circles I aspired to join, never once did I consider how I appeared to junior staffers. Or to those from different economic backgrounds. Wealth was something I had always admired and assumed others felt the same way. The chorus of jeers from my elevator mates made it clear I was wrong.
Mumbling and jokes continued until we hit the lobby, and they all jostled past me to exit. I stayed behind in the now empty car, my garage level button still illuminated. A Town Car waited for me below with the rest of my belongings. Yet another sign I was orbiting a different world than they were.
The last thing I saw as the doors closed was Portia flicking her head in my direction before she and Melvin shared a laugh at my expense. Apparently, they thought I could afford it.
By the time I hauled my boxes upstairs to Dad’s apartment. I was sweaty and defeated. Saul offered to get the luggage cart, but I refused. I barely heard him over the mocking laughter ringing in my ears. Imagine what they’d say?
“She had a taxi and a bellhop. I had to drag them home myself on the subway.”
Fuck that and fuck them.
I took one look at Saul’s green uniform with gold embellishments and hated myself. I stormed into the lobby and dragged every box out of the car myself, walking each up to my apartment, one by one.
Dad’s office door was open, but I headed to my room. I peeled off my blouse and slacks, then tugged on jeans and a T-shirt before crossing to the kitchen for a glass of cold water. I downed the first one, then refilled it again from the dispenser on the fridge before making my way to my dad’s study.
I was halfway across the living room when his conversation stopped me dead in my tracks.
Did he just say Xervo?
I crept closer to listen to his agitated voice.
“It was not an untenable delay! The Xervo RIF was 37 people.”
I’d always hated that dehumanizing word. If you plan one, man-up and own the language. We were laid off. But why was Dad talking about Xervo?
“Once they come off the books, finance said it will add 20% to Xervo’s free cash flow. Yes. It matches the venture deal’s contract terms. You’ll get updated paperwork later today.”
Venture capital? Free cash flow? My mind whirled. Xervo padded its bank account at our expense, trying to sweeten its chances for a private equity deal.
I gagged, covering my mouth and grateful I hadn’t eaten since yesterday. If not, I’d have a colossal mess to clean up on the floor. Though I might still. Murdering my dad was definitely on the table.
Was he going to gain financially from me losing my job? Collateral damage in a high-stakes game of poker? We were real people, and they were destroying lives. And for what? Was that why he was so chipper about my layoff? Did it mean a windfall for him and Barr?
I approached the door, then withdrew, clenching my fists in a sorry attempt to control my anger. I stormed to a lamp and heaved it over my head. Only the strained electrical cord tethered to the outlet kept me from chucking it against the wall.
“Argh!” I held it aloft, panting, not sure what to do with myself, or it, before setting it down.
How dare he? Is this how he made his living? How he afforded our top-shelf lifestyle? Our vacations, our school tuition, the expensive clothes, and homes?
A veil lifted, objects in the room vibrated with the energy of those sacrificed to attain them. The custom upholstery. The imported curtains and rugs. The knick-knacks bought while on lavish foreign trips. I’d never given much thought to how we afforded it all. What my dad did all day to give us such a fine life. A privileged one by any measure.
I took pride in his keen legal mind, wearing it as a badge of honor. People averted their eyes when Gregory Washington passed.
“Yes, Mr. Washington.”
“Right away, Mr. Washington.”
“My mistake, Mr. Washington.”
I’d always taken these exchanges as evidence of respect. That he wasn’t a man to trifle with. Given our family reputation and his constant demands for honesty and integrity, I never suspected he played by different rules. But why bother demanding from others standards he didn’t uphold himself?
