Julian shook his head. “I can’t pay them the wages that they think they deserve. Employees, specifically younger ones, feel they’re entitled to wages they don’t deserve when they’re just starting out.”
Angelica’s back went up immediately. She always hated that as reason, and he’d really given two in there. But to blame it on someone’s age and entitlement wasn’t actually digging into the bigger issues. “You can’t pay them the wage they need to live in the city or you’re hiring brand new employees who have never worked before who are expecting full salaries? Which is it?”
Julian’s lips parted in surprise, but he seemed to catch himself fairly quickly. “Both, actually.”
Now Angelica knew this was a bullshit line, and he was just doubling down on everything.
“I talked with a few of the busboys earlier today who said they’re making a comparable wage for other jobs in the city.” Hope added in her two cents, her hand on the table and very close to where Angelica had her arm planted on it. If she moved an inch in the right direction, they’d be touching. But she didn’t.
“What about any of the other staff?” Angelica asked, turning to look directly at Hope now. Since she hadn’t been there earlier in the day, she hadn’t been able to gather any extra information.
“I haven’t had a chance to talk to anyone.” Hope leaned back in her chair.
Angelica missed the closeness, the intensity of the conversations they would have, but Julian was still here, the cameras were still on them, and Rex was in the room. And this was all about the show. She had to remind herself of that.
“My problem with your theory, Julian, is that if you’re blaming this on ageism and entitlement, there’s very little in the way we can do to fix it. Is there?” Angelica looked directly at him.
Julian put his hands up in agot mepose and grinned at her. “You’re onto something here.”
How fucking patronizing! Angelica clenched her jaw but managed to keep her face as passive as it was before.
“So, if that’s your theory, then I guess our work is done.” Angelica flipped her iPad down, effectively closing it. She moved in her chair, pretending as though she was going to leave.
“What? No.” Julian leaned forward, catching her attention.
Angelica turned back to him, eyebrow raised. “No?”
“No, you can’t leave.”
“You just told me there’s nothing I can do to solve thislittleproblem of yours. So why should I stay?” She gripped the edge of the table, holding that tension as long as she could because she wasn’t going to play games tonight. She was exhausted. Her feet ached. And she really wanted that damn beer Lyric had promised to get her.
“It’s not entitlement. All right?”
Angelica continued to stare at him, trying to surmise if he actually believed that statement or if he was just saying it to keep her in her seat. “Then what is it?”
“I have this problem where my employees group together when they feel something is wrong and they gang up on me, then all leave at once.”
Oh, now they were getting somewhere.
“Why do you think that is?” Hope asked, sounding genuinely curious.
It was the wrong question to be asking, but Angelica didn’t have a chance to correct it as Julian launched into another defense of how this wasn’t his fault.
“I think they conspire against me sometimes, because it’s easier to blame me as the problem rather than admit that they need to be better employees—you know, show up to work on time, do the tasks you’re assigned, don’t complain, and don’t start drama.”
“What kind of drama is being started?” Angelica crossed her arms, staring at him directly. She wanted an answer to this question, although she strongly suspected the answer he was going to give wouldn’t be the actual drama that was being created.
“You know, just drama between managers and employees. Who to blame, am I right?”
Angelica hummed slowly. “Perhaps.”
She sighed and glanced at Hope. “Do you have any other questions?”
“No?” Hope said it like a question.
“Good. I think we’re done here.” Angelica pulled her iPad with her and stood up. “See you in the morning.”
She had a lot more digging to do in the next twenty-four hours. But at least she had a path to follow now.
