“So how’s the week been?” Tom asked, as he headed upstairs, John hot on his heels.
“No news,” John answered, his voice flat.
Tom paused at the door and looked over his shoulder. John’s face was grim. “No news is good news?” Tom said.
John snorted and rolled his eyes. “Talk about looking at the bright side.” He chuckled, then shrugged. “But you could be right. Who knows what those dickhead guys at the top are thinking?”
They entered the small apartment above the cafe, and John collapsed on the couch while Tom retrieved a couple of beers from the kitchen. He was back within a moment and sank into the cushions with a sigh. Being on his feet all day wasn’t getting any easier and he was glad he’d invested in the comfiest couch he could find at IKEA.
“So no update at all then?”
John sipped his beer and placed the bottle on the cheap coffee table. “They said we’d know more by the end of the month, but I’d say the writing’s pretty much on the wall. I mean, there’s no bloody way they’d keep me over guys who have been there much longer and have more experience with the company.”
“But you’ve got experience, just from a slightly different perspective. In fact, that’s probably advantageous. It gives them a fresh view. You said they want to make changes, right? To transform the business?”
“At the moment I think the only transformation they want is to reduce head count. Fuck ’em.” John picked up his bottle, took a swig, and sat back, shoulders slumped as he studied the label on the bottle. Tom wished there was something he could say to make John feel better about the situation, but really there was nothing he could do. Perhaps changing the subject might lighten the mood and at least take his mind off things.
“I had an interesting conversation this week.”
“Yeah?”
“A guy, one of the regulars at Take Two, asked me about offering up some work to some homeless kids he knows.”
“That sounds like a good idea. You work too damn hard, Tom. I hope you’re considering bringing on extra help.”
“I said I’d think about it.”
“I hope you mean that, mate. It’s about time you did. I know business has suffered over the past few months, what with all that construction making foot traffic harder to come by, but it looks like it’s picking up a bit from what I’ve observed, and I know it will take off guns blazing once the work is finished and the new office towers open.”
“Most of them are putting brand new coffee shops in their foyers, you know.”
John shrugged. “So? You’ve got something special here. They can’t replicate what you have in their glass and steel high-rises. Take Two has atmosphere and a great vibe. You’ll attract the office workers who want to escape their modern corporate prisons for a while.”
“You sound like you’re speaking from experience.”
“As much as I want to keep my job, I can see the attraction of not working the mundane nine to five, or should I say in my case a nine to nine, for a big corporate. You should know, mate, with the changes you’ve made over the last year.”
John’s words invoked memories of the days spent dressed in a dark suit, moving from meeting to meeting and sitting behind his large desk with the view over the harbour. As happened whenever he thought of those days, the heaviness in his chest was almost overwhelming.How the fuck did I let something like that happen?
“I know what you’re thinking.”
John’s voice snapped him back to the present. John leaned across and touched his knee. “Tom, mate, you can’t keep torturing yourself over this. It happened, it’s done. You’ve paid the price. You need to move on.”
“Paid the price? What? Given up the glamorous lifestyle? Lost the powerful position? Stopped getting the obscene salary?” Tom could hear the anger in his tone but couldn’t help the outburst, voice rising with each sentence. “There are people who paid a much higher price than me—”
“Tom!” John squeezed his thigh.
As quickly as it started, the tirade was over. Tom’s throat thickened, and he swallowed hard, blinking against the prickle behind his eyes. “Someone died, John. That person paid the ultimate price.” Tom’s voice was barely a whisper as he looked at his friend. “He died.”
“I know, mate. And I’m sorry. The whole situation was fucked up. You got shafted—”
“But I should have known.”
John shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe not. Perhaps someone else would have been able to see the scam going on, but from what you’ve said, they played a pretty good game of smoke and mirrors.”
“Game?” Tom scoffed. “If only.”
Tom still fought with his feelings over the events from a year ago. He’d thought he had the dream job—business manager to a high-flying hedge fund manager. The guy was head of his field and Tom, who’d been top of his class at Sydney Uni, was like a pig in mud. He’d been watching and learning. Hell, he’d goddamned idolised Rowan Parkes. The guy couldn’t put a foot wrong in Tom’s eyes, so blinded was Tom by his stupid adoration. Tom had put Rowan on a virtual pedestal, unable to comprehend or believe when allegations were made about Rowan’s operation. Tom had nearly been destroyed to find out the man he’d been looking up to was a con artist, a thief, a user. He’d been devastated to realise the impact Rowan’s actions had had on his clients—the lost money, bankruptcy, and ultimately the death of Walter Downs. Mr Downs hadn’t been able to cope with the collapse of his investments and the loss of the business he’d spent fifty years building up. He’d been so traumatised by letting his family down and having to let go all his staff, sending hundreds of people to the unemployment line, that he’d chosen to end his life. The guilt still ate away at Tom and sometimes he wondered if he’d have been better off taking that same path.
