“To your new Manhattan residence or your future headquarters here, sir?” the driver looked at me through the rearview mirror.
“Depends,” I said, glancing at my watch. “Which one is closer?”
“Your residence, sir.”
“Okay, that’s first.”
He nodded, and before I could look through more lawsuits, my personal cell phone sounded.
Confused, I waited for the name to appear onscreen.
Edward Lewis. The man who was selling Sweet Seasons to me.
“Yes, Mr. Lewis?” I answered.
“Hello, Mr. Cross.” He coughed. “Have you, um, landed in New York yet?”
“Yes, seconds ago. Are we still on track for our signing session this evening?”
“No, uh, that’s why I’m calling. There’s a huge issue on my end.”
“Then I suggest you fix it before I arrive at headquarters,” I said. “The signing is just a formality, remember?”
“I’m not backing out of our deal,” he said. “I’m just asking for some time to break the news to my employees.”
“Come again?”
“My employees.” He stuttered. “I need to tell them that Sweet Seasons will have a brand-new owner starting tomorrow.”
“You’rejust now telling them?”
“I couldn’t find it in my heart to do it any sooner.”
Red flag number one.
“The script is very simple, Mr. Lewis.” I paused. “Hello. I sold my company to someone else. The end.”
“Yeah, but… These people are like family to me, remember? We have deep, long-lasting relationships. I’ve been at some of their weddings and baby showers.”
Red flag number two.
“This deal has been in the works for damn near a year, Mr. Lewis.” I couldn’t believe this shit. “I kept it private on my end from the media and everyone else like you asked, but you’ve had plenty of time to drop breadcrumbs or slowly let your people get a clue about what’s coming.”
“I know, but please…” He begged. “I just need a little bit more time before you take over. Even if I don’t break it to everyone, there’s one person that I have to tell—my special secret weapon that I’ve always mentioned to you.”
My blood simmered as I looked out the window.
I’d lost count of how many hours I’d had to listen to him brag about his “number one employee” and “secret weapon” on the phone. This person practically pissed sunshine and rainbows with how highly he regarded them, but he never, ever slipped to give me a name.
Part of me thought it was all in his mind and he’d made this person up.
“She deserves to be told about this personally, Mr. Cross,” he was still talking.
“It’s ashe?”
“Yes,” he said, “and I can assure you that she’ll be a super asset to you as well after you take charge.”
I’ll be firing her (and everyone else) weeks from now…
