Page 26 of Middle Ground
I place a hand on my chest. “Ouch,” I say. “Nice deflection, though.”
But beneath my palm, my heart pounds a bit harder than it should. Back home, my haggard appearance would be a badge of honour. Here, under Meyer’s scrutiny, I’ve never felt more insecure in my life. I’ve known this woman forabout two weeks collectively and already she’s seeing right through me.
She doesn’t knowwhatshe’s seeing—and she won’t, if I can help it—but she recognizes it all the same. It’s rather unnerving. I’m here to complete a task, not be picked apart by my business partner’s shrewd gaze.
She reminds me of Cherie, in a way. My grandmother, with her take-no-prisoners attitude and her blunt way of speaking, wouldn’t hesitate to tell me if I looked terrible. If I looked like I was on the verge of collapsing again. Meyer’s brutal honesty is somewhat refreshing. It’s something I’ve missed since Cherie has been gone.
“Vaughan.”
I sit forward in my chair, startled back to reality. “What?”
Based on the strange look she’s giving me, I definitely spaced out. That IV full of coffee is looking more and more appealing by the minute.
She cocks her head, scrutinizing me again. Then she shakes it. “I asked you—for thethird time, might I add—what the hell you’re doing.”
“Compiling data.”
She mutters something under her breath that sounds vaguely like the wordnerd. I hide a smile behind my fist, not prepared for her to see how amusing I find her. That would only make her resistance stronger.
“Has anyone ever told you that you share too much?” she asks dryly. “Compiling data onwhat?”
“Everything,” I reply. “I need to know this place inside out in order to create an optimization strategy.”
“And why would you do that?”
“To ensure all of the processes we employ are running efficiently. Recognizing changes to be made to smooth them out further if necessary.”
“Absolutely not.”
I continue, as if she hasn’t spoken. “First optimization strategy: we need to fire Reggie Gaines.”
I officially render her slack-jawed for all of two seconds before she clamps her lips together tightly. And then she begins to protest, as I suspected she would.
“We’re not firing anyone,” she declares.
I sigh, leaning back in the chair again. It groans beneath me. “We’re wasting money on his salary, Ellison. He doesn’t do his job. The other kitchen staff have to pick up his slack, which wastes their time.”
“He’s worked here forfive years!”
“That may be the case, but that doesn’t preclude him from being lazy. In the individual interviews I conducted?—”
“Youinterviewed my staff?” Meyer’s voice has grown shrill.
“Ourstaff, Ellison. I talked to our staff.”
She shakes her head. “We can’t fire Reggie.”
A noise of frustration leaks out of me, unbidden. “This laissez-faire leadership style you’ve got going on isn’t working for me.”
She scoffs. “Yeah? Well, you being a smug asshole isn’t working forme.”
I brace my hands on the desk and stand. “I’m trying to work with you, but you keep shutting me down.”
Meyer looks up at me, hate in her cool gaze. “Because I don’t want you here!”
“Above all else, we’re running a business,” I try to explain. Try to return to my rational brain. Getting into a shouting match with her won’t help matters. “It’s nothing personal.”
“Everythingis personal in a small town.”
