Page 2 of Extradition (Mobsters + Billionaires 1)
I read his book on the subject and eye-rolled my way through the entire thing. This is what happens when you don’t have enough people willing to say no to your face.
My Psych 101 professor would’ve had a field day with the fake-posturing-parading-as-masculinity in those pages. Hell, I should just mulch the fucking thing—at least then the book could do something useful, like grow a garden.
“You know that concept is bullshit too, right?” I ask, standing up. “That there is no such thing as an alpha wolf, just like there is no such thing as an ethical billionaire.”
The way he’s grinning, I can tell he thinks he’s got one over on me.
“You could not be more wrong,” he says, smug as shit. “There was a scientific study done, and the wolves who got it done, the ones who led the pack, were the alpha wolves. But maybe you’re just content to be a lonely little beta. And by the way, I lead the industry in manufacturing ethics, and I’ve shut down factories with problematic practices.”
I snort, shaking my head. Motherfucker. This is why all those fucking night classes were worth it. This moment right here.
“That study you’re misquoting is from the seventies. Are you aware that the original scientist later recanted the study?”
“What are you talking about?” Wolfe walks to the edge of the stage, shielding his eyes. “Stand in the middle so I can see you.”
I comply, if only because it’ll make my exit easier. I make my way out to the aisle, excusing myself past the twenty people, and face him.
He’s my age and looks like the gods themselves bestowed leadership upon him as a birthright. He’s refined: a sharp dresser with a full head of wheat-colored hair and cheekbones sharp enough to slice through the opinions of those less than him.
Meanwhile, I’m wearing a wrinkled button-down that I borrowed from the guy I fucked last night.
I go in before he can open his trap again. “Much to the chagrin of you and the online neckbeards spouting this shit from their mother’s basement, the scientist recanted that study. Turns out, he was studying wolves in captivity. Wolves in captivity take on alpha and beta roles because the resources are restricted to nearly nothing, and they have to fight for every scrap. You might be on to something, actually. Because it sounds exactly like working for a company owned by a multi-mega-billionaire who can somehow only afford to pay entry-level wages.”
Looking like he swallowed something sour, Wolfe starts pacing the stage. “I own the company. That’s how it works. I pay you a salary, and you do the work. I get an average of four hours of sleep a night. I bet you can’t even function with less than eight.”
“Well, you’ve got me there. I guess that means you’re better than me. But back to the bad science you keep going on about. When that man looked at those wolves in the wild, when he saw how wolf packs actually work? He retracted everything he had to say. You know why? Because wolves in the wild don’t have to compete for scraps. The pack is structured around a family dynamic, and the hierarchy you talk about doesn’t exist.”
“Well, guess what? In the business world, it does exist, and it works just fine.”
He’s so fucking right and so fucking wrong at the same time that it makes me want to scream. I wish I’d known what a racket this corporate life would be before I started college. I should have gone into plumbing. Those motherfuckers make a killing.
The fact of the matter is, I’m about to get escorted out of the building. I’ll be blackballed in Manhattan, if not the entire state, and tonight, I’ll be calling my father, begging for a job back on the docks. At least until I can figure out what to do next.
But that’s tonight’s problem.
“The only reason it works in business is because we are, by definition, in captivity. Look at all of us in this room sitting so quietly and paying rapt attention to you as you spew the same bullshit.”
“Bullshit, huh? As you pointed out, I’m a billionaire. Who the hell are you?” he asks, puffing his chest out.
“Who am I? Motherfucker, you don’t wanna know who I am, but I’ll tell you this: if you think that you escaped captivity because you’re the top dog, you could not be more wrong. If I’m in captivity, you’re in captivity with me. The only thing that alpha bullshit ever got you was a prettier cage.”
He opens his mouth to say something, then closes it. He blinks a few times then points at the door. “I don’t suppose I need to tell you what your next steps will be.”
“Go ahead. Because it’s the last fucking order you’ll ever give me.”
Turning on my heel, I walk out the door, middle finger as high as it’ll go. I’m joined by two security guys who walk me to my desk and stand guard as I gather my few sad things and my one dying plant.
One of the guys leans in just as he’s about to airlock me. “Sorry that you lost your job, man, but thank you for saying what needed to be said. We ain’t cogs in a machine. We’re people. We’re his human resource, and he keeps forgetting the human part.”
I give him a quiet fist-bump and make my way to the street. This next part is going to suck salty balls, but lesson fucking learned. At least I’ll never have to deal with that asshole again.
