“Fuck’s sake,” I mutter. “Thank you, Michelle.”
I pick up the receiver, taking a breath before pushing the flashing button.
“Mr. Brantly. It’s been a while,” I say with a roll of my eyes.
“I don’t appreciate the tone, Elliot. I want an update on the changes I asked for over on King.”
I sit in my chair, turning to face the windows to stare out at the bay.
“We’ve had this conversation many times, Mr. Brantly. The work will be done when we get the payment.”
“You’ve been paid in full for nearly two weeks, yet everything is sitting unfinished!” he shouts.
“Had your team not demanded we make last-minute changes that ate up your remaining budget, the work would be done by now.”
“We were never told we would have to pay more!”
“Work isn’t free, Mr. Brantly. That goes without saying.”
“It isn’t in the contract!” he bellows, and I can imagine his chubby face turning as red as a cherry.
“Neither is the new work we’ve done. If you like, I can send my guys down there first thing in the morning to undo everything they did?”
“One of these days, you’re going to fuck with the wrong person, Caldwell,” he growls.
The line goes dead and I hang the phone up, not a single care in the world about his threats. I get them daily. Though they aren’t typically from clients. Most of the time, clients love us. We are up front with what we do, how we work, and how much we cost. If we don’t think something will work, we won’t do it. We explain why. Communication is key. I’ve spent years building the perfect team. Most of the threats on my company come from people in the community not wanting me to destroy old buildings or land. I understand wanting to preserve things, but that’s not wise in my line of business. Keeping an old building is nothing but a liability and a money-eater.
There is a knock on the door, causing me to look up.
“Come in,” I call out, rubbing the bridge of my nose. It’s too early for a headache.
“We’re getting lunch. Would you like to join us?”
Peter, my COO, is leaning into my office, one hand on the frame with the other on the doorknob. He and Jim are my two right-hand men. I don’t consider them friends, but I’m friendlier with them more than the others.
“No, thank you,” I say, as he knew I would.
I don’t typically do anything with my team outside of what’s necessary. We don’t hang out outside of work.
“Good job in there today. I think we got em.”
I lean back, clasping my hands together and resting them on my stomach. “You think so?”
“Oh yeah. None of them like Two-Timing Tim. If he gives them grief, they may lynch him.”
I chuckle, raising a hand. “Enjoy your lunch.”
He leaves, closing the door behind him, and I stare at it for a long moment.
They invite me to lunch just about every day, and every day I deny them. It’s not that I don’t like them, I like them just fine. I hand-picked them all, and they wouldn’t be working for me, in such high positions, if I didn’t think they were capable. But work comes before play, and if I can eat and work in the quiet of my office, then that’s what I’ll do.
No one here takes offense to it. In fact, the only person who hated that I preferred to be alone was my ex-wife. I don’t crave socializing like most people do. I’m happy being alone and doing my own thing, busying myself with work or what I enjoy. I don’t need company for that. I’m happy on my own.
I put in a delivery order at the sub shop around the corner and let Michelle know to look out for it before I lose myself in work. When the food arrives, I carefully eat as I continue, not wanting crumbs or sauce on my papers. I drink the bottle of water, then make another coffee. I’m getting ready to finish up for the day, amazed that there aren’t any fires to put out on a Monday, when my cell rings. I pick it up and nearly drop it when I see it’s my son. I haven’t heard from him in months, so I know what this means.
It’s the fire.
He never calls unless he needs something. My fault, since I always give it to him. But he’s my son and a good kid. Twenty-three, in law school, good head on his shoulders. He’s drivenand has been dating the same girl for a few years now, though I’ve yet to meet her.
