“What?” I shout. “By whom?”
Huxley lifts his sunglasses, and his eyes narrow in on me. “Your former employee.”
“Uh, excuse me?” I blink a few times. “What the hell for?”
“Let’s see, hostile work environment and wrongful termination.”
“Wait.” I shake my head, trying to get a grip on what he’s saying. “Who the hell was this?”
“Gemma Shoemacher.”
“Shoemacher?” I ask, eyes wide and disbelief heavy in my tone. “As in the girl who would secretly slip into my office, rearrange my shit, hang up pictures of her relatives, decorate for holidays, and then just leave? The absolute psycho who would corner me in the break room and ask me when my next dentist appointment was so she could watch me get my teeth cleaned? The girl who made me an advent calendar for Christmas and inside each box was homemade thumbnail drawings of me? That girl?”
“Were the drawings good?” JP asks.
“How the fuck is that relevant?” I ask him, losing my temper.
JP shrugs. “Just genuinely curious.”
“I mean . . . watercolor on a small surface is quite difficult, so maybe—”
“Enough about the paintings,” Huxley says. “This is fucking serious. Not only has she sued us, but she’s also soiling our reputation on social media. She’s spreading lies about how we conduct business and how Breaker created a hostile environment for her and berated her in front of fellow employees.”
“That’s not fucking true,” I say. “I was never hostile, even when she ‘accidentally’ tripped me while I was holding my morning coffee. I’ve been nothing but kind to that woman, and the reason she was let go was that we found out she was the one going around to everyone’s office and stealing their daily to-do lists. She had a whole collection of them filed away in her desk.”
“Well, she’s spinning a story and attacking our business, and unfortunately, she’s getting attention.”
“What does that mean?” I ask.
“It means, because she’s using the right platforms, she’s getting tons of views and now, media coverage. This has happened in the past twenty-four hours.”
“How the hell does that happen?” JP asks.
Huxley shakes his head. “No fucking clue, but we’re fielding calls about it. Lottie said she heard some employees talking about it in the break room before quieting down as she entered. We’re losing credibility by the second.”
“Because someone is lying,” I say, anger heavy in my voice.
“Yes, but the public seems to be clinging to her story. Therefore, we need to take action while Taylor and his team gather evidence for a countersuit. She has no leg to stand on, no evidence, just her word and her friend who doesn’t work for us anymore. But we have security footage, we have the evidence that you’ve gathered, Breaker, over time, and we have all of her social media posts that have been screen recorded. Defamation will be what takes her down.”
“Okay, so . . . what should we do?” I ask.
“For one, you need to take a step back.”
“What?” I roar. “No fucking way. I’m not resigning because someone spreads lies about me. That makes me look guilty, and I’m not guilty. I’ve been nothing but respectful and professional to that woman.”
“I’m not talking about resigning,” Huxley says, his jaw growing tight. “We just need you to take . . . a mandatory vacation. Just so it looks like we’re doing the right thing while we investigate her allegations, which means you need to not be in the office.”
“That’s bullshit—”
“He’s right,” JP says. “If this was with any other employee, we’d ask them to go on sabbatical while we investigate the allegations. You shouldn’t be treated any different.”
“But I didn’t fucking do anything,” I say.
“We know,” Huxley says. “But just because we know you’re innocent doesn’t mean everyone will believe it. We’re in sensitive waters here, and we need to make sure we exercise due diligence in the investigation. If we do this right, conduct the investigation correctly, then hopefully it will set a precedent for any future employees who try to do the same.”
“I’m afraid to say it,” JP adds, “but he’s right, man.”
I glance back and forth between my brothers, letting their common sense sink in. “Fuck,” I mutter as I lean back against the seat and push my hand through my hair.
