Does anyone have a shovel? I am about to be digging my own grave.
“Monday. Right after the meeting.”
His laugh is hollow. “Of course. And you never thought to—I don’t know—talk to me about it? Or maybe give any of us the same heads-up you gave him?”
“I forgot,” I say lamely.
“That’s convenient, isn’tit?”
“I’ll fix it,” I promise him. “I’ll tell Brad it was—”
“Don’t even finish that thought,” he warns me. “You turning yourself in is the last thing that will fix this. Did you even takeoneminute to think about what the consequences of leaking that information might be? How I might feel about it? Or did none of that matter, because you wanted to teach me a lesson?”
“Is that what you think I was doing?”
“No, I think you had a tantrum the second your will was crossed and that was the last you thought about it. A bit of a pattern, I’m noticing.”
I reel back. “What isthatsupposed to mean? Do you know what, fine. You’re right. Maybe I didn’t think it through enough and I could have handled it better, but at least Idid somethinginstead of just sitting around following the rules! And at leastAndytried to put a stop to Brad’s nonsense instead of doing what you’re doing, lying down dead and letting him walk all over you. You have so much power here, and all you seem to want to use it for is to help enforce a bunch of decisions made by a cowboy in a suit who you don’t even agree with anyway!”
By the time I get to the end of my impassioned speech, I am panting. Connor looks like he’s just taken a gut punch. I watch as he processes all the information, pulling his cap off and scratching at his hair the way he does when he’s stuck on some code he can’t wrap his head around. He puts it back on,then rubs at his eyes. The silence is agony. It just stretches on andon.
A rap on the glass door makes both of us jump, and we turn toward the sound. Brad is on the other side of the door, sliding it open.
“There you are,” he says to Connor. “I need to speak to you in my office.”
Connor swallows. “Sure.”
Brad is so visibly pissed off he looks menacing; like his temper is on a tight leash and any second he could set it loose. And he will. On Connor.
I quail. Connor is right—I didn’t stop to think about my actions. It wasn’t until Andy was up there that I realized it’s him, not me, who would suffer the consequences.
“Mr. Pincer,” I call, halting both Brad and Connor in their tracks.
I can tell by the look on his face that he hadn’t even noticed me in the room. His next words confirm it. “Who is this?” Brad says to Connor, rather thanme.
“I’m on the data strategy team,” I tell him, knowing full well he won’t care what my name is. “I just wanted to say I’m so sorry about the all-hands. It was my fault.”
“Don’t,” Connor warns me urgently under his breath.
Brad says nothing, but turns toward me more fully. At least I know he’s listening.
“I was the one who shared the information with the product team about Version 3.0 and the possibility of the flotation. I spoke without thinking. I apologize.”
Brad’s lip curls. He flicks his gaze toward Connor. “My office.”
He walks away. Connor shakes his head at me, then followshim.
Thirty-One
“How much trouble are you in?” Ben asks me when I get back to my desk.
“A lot.”
“Where’s Connor?”
“Talking to Brad.”
He cringes. “Ouch.”
