Page 32 of Game Change

“Well, I don’t know what to tell you. I’m flying to Philly and will be gone the rest of the week.” She stands. “Is there anything else, Mr. Kincaid? Can we be done with this, please?”

“No, I’m not done. Can you sit?” I gesture for the chair, and she takes it. “I’d like for us to co-exist at the office.”

“Okay,” she says with a shrug. “I have no desire to fight with you or anyone else, especially when the deck is stacked against me.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” I ask, but I already know. “You’re an incredible—”

“Please don’t condescend to me, Mr. Kincaid. And how do you expect to run this office when you never know what I mean?” She does an exaggerated eye-roll. “Aren’t you tired of this act yet? You don’t need to do it anymore. Just be yourself. You don’t need to pretend with me. You won. The job is already yours. Let your true self come out.”

“How about you tone down the attitude and the insults?” I snap. I look down at my desk. It’s hopeless. She’s angry, and there’s nothing I can do about that. “In the future, please put any work trips on the calendar. I also need to see what you’ve done so far on the Lane Project. We’re meeting with them here next week, and I’ll attend that meeting. I’ll also be working on that project with you.”

The Lane Project is a three-hundred-home subdivision in North Carolina we’ve been contracted to design. They specifically asked for me.

“That’s my project, and I’m going to handle it on my own. Milton gave me total autonomy and trusted my work. He didn’t micromanage or look over my shoulder. When I spoke with him this morning, he assured me that would not change for the remainder of my tenure here. I looked at your portfolio last night, and your specialty is landscape architecture, not residential homes. I’ve got this, Mr. Kincaid.”

Having had enough of her hostility, I stand and say, “Landscape architecture is my specialty. You’re right, but I have done other things. Will there be no landscaping in this subdivision?”

“Yes, there will be landscaping,” she says. She talks slowly as if to a child. “That’s why I’m going to hire someone whose work I respect.”

“Excuse me?”

Her nostrils flare and she crosses her arms. “I have another architect in mind. Like I said, I’ve never heard of you before yesterday.”

“Well, that might be the case, Brynne, but it’s unnecessary. It’s already been decided.” This is not how I wanted to tell her, but she’s backed me into a corner, and I can only take her antagonism for so long.

“So this is how it’s going to be the rest of my time here?”

There she goes again, referring to leaving this company. As much as Uncle Milton wants her to stay, I can’t force her. He was right about one thing. She would be hard-pressed to find another job to pay her as much as she’s getting paid. I don’t see her going anywhere anytime soon if money is a motivator. As far as I know, she doesn’t come from wealth, so money should be important.

“I won’t do everything like my uncle, and I’d like your cooperation. For now, I will attend meetings and work on different projects. If I had known about Philly, I would have arranged to go with you.”

I would hope that the hotel only had one room with one bed, like those ridiculous romcoms Lisa forced me to watch when we were teenagers.

“I also will have to pass on handing my work over. I would hate for there to be a misunderstanding where you’re given credit for work I did.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, here we go with the faux lack of understanding. You know exactly what I mean,” she says. “A misunderstanding.” She puts misunderstanding in air quotes.

“I’m afraid I don’t.”

“A situation where I work my ass off only for you to swoop in and reap the rewards.” She eyes me up and down. “Sound familiar?” When all I do is stare, she says, “Do you understand now?” She stands abruptly. “I do the work, and you get the praise.”

“So, that’s what you think of me?” I stand, too, walk past her, and block the door.

She gestures around the office. The office that was supposed to go to her.

“The proof is right here, Mr. Kincaid,” she says, emphasizing my name. “It’s nice to have the right name.” She walks toward me and stands close. Close enough to touch. She looks me in the eyes and says nothing. She’s probably waiting for me to move, but I don’t.

“So, now you’ve accused me of being a liar and a thief. Will the insults ever end? You’re like a kid having a tantrum because you didn’t get your favorite toy.” Her head rolls back. “What’s the matter? You think you’re the only one who can hurl insults?”

“Can you move out of the way?” She lifts her nose in the air and looks away. “I’m done here.” When I make no moves to get out of her way she taunts me by saying, “Fire me if you have a problem with me and myattitude.” The tone of her voice changes when she says attitude. It’s almost like she’s baiting me. Like she knows I’m supposed to keep her here.

It’s on the tip of my tongue to call her bluff and fire her, but I know there will be no going back if I do that. It’s almost like she’s daring me to do it, and if she’s doing that instead of quitting, there has to be some benefit to her to be let go. Instead of falling for her trap, I give her another order.

“You will send me the files that I asked for, and from now on, you are not to take any trips unless I authorize it. Whether you like it or not, I’m your goddamn boss, and it’s time you show me some respect. I’ll expect an email from you in the next five minutes.” I move away from the door, open it for her, and gesture for her to leave.

“Yeah. Sure.” Her tone is dismissive, and she has the nerve to glare at me before she sticks her beautiful head in the air and walks out. I slam the door behind her.

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