Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 56294 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 281(@200wpm)___ 225(@250wpm)___ 188(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 56294 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 281(@200wpm)___ 225(@250wpm)___ 188(@300wpm)
“The plane is already waiting on the runway,” I say. “I need you to reschedule all my meetings.”
“But…” Tyrone tilts his head at me like I’m crazy. It pisses me off, honestly. I like Tyrone a lot, but it’s as though he thinks Paul isn’t important enough for this. “This is a disaster.”
“Yeah, it is. They think there could be a brain bleed.”
“No, I mean, yes, of course, that, but you leaving… It will create a whole lot of chaos, and there’s Lisa and Mark to think about. They’re like vultures just waiting for their chance. Not to mention, we need you at several of these meetings.”
“I’ll take them remotely, then,” I snap.
Tyrone nods. “Okay, yes, that could work, but what about company confidence? The only thing that has kept the board from tearing itself apart is your presence. If you leave now—”
“There’s no if about it,” I tell him. “One time when I was thirteen, a group of older kids kicked the shit out of me. Apparently, because I got into a scuffle with one of their little brothers at recess, this gave them the excuse to try to kick my teeth in.”
“Oh, God.”
“Paul was there like aways. He got me away from the jackals and took a few nasty hits himself. You don’t replace a bond like that with business.”
Tyrone frowns and nods. “I understand that, boss. I understand you’re going, but we need to think of a reason why—something to tell the board and instill confidence. Remember what you’re always saying? Think about how many people are relying on you.”
I drop into the chair opposite his, and he sits again.
“I’m sorry,” Tyrone says quietly, “but one reason you pay me so much is to tell you things you don’t want to hear.”
“I’m going,” I tell him. “So let’s brainstorm right now. Let’s think of a reason that will keep the company steady while I’m away. Is there a reasonable excuse for me being in the West Coast office?”
“Will you be in the office, though?” Tyrone counters.
“No. I’ll be with Paul. Fine. Is there a reasonable excuse for me being with my best friend, who was just in a goddamn accident?”
Tyrone winces when my tone gets that savage edge. I don’t mean to take it out on him, but I’m thinking of Paul lying in a hospital bed, his leg mangled, his brain in danger. Every second I spend here is a waste. Tyrone also makes a good point. If I leave now, just like that, without a good reason, it could give the Marks and Lisas of the company the chance they need to swoop in.
“What about a video?” Tyrone says after a pause. “A documentary, homemade. Intimate.”
“A documentary about what? I haven’t got time to…” I trail off when the realization hits me. “You mean about Paul? You want me to document his recovery and use it for PR?”
“Don’t say it like it’s a bad thing,” Tyrone replies. “A handheld documentary from the CEO of a multinational company could be huge, especially coming from you. You’ve never courted celebrity. You’re always straight to the point in public. Getting a more intimate look could really fire up people’s imaginations. You’ve said it before. Paul will never quit sports. He’ll be ninety and still trying out the new thing. He sounds like a man determined to make a recovery.”
I massage my forehead, hearing the logic and reason in Tyrone’s argument and not liking it at all. “It’ll mean turning something pure into just another part of this gray bullshit.”
Tyrone flinches again. “This is your business. This job saved my life. I couldn’t afford rent before you gave me a shot. I don’t think that’s bullshit, with all due respect.”
“No, you’re right.” I nod. “I’m just in a bad mood.”
“Can’t blame you for that. Think of it like this. With this angle, you’ll be able to use the insecurity.”
“Expand on that,” I tell him.
“You can shoot confessional-style clips along the way, like they do with reality shows. Talk into the camera. Talk about the risks this is putting on your company. Talk about how torn you are.”
“But what if…” I can’t even say it. What if he doesn’t recover? I can barely even think about it.
“As long as you work remotely as often as possible,” Tyrone says, “we should be okay anyway. Think of this as insurance. If your absence causes some catastrophe, we’ve got the video, and who knows? It could even save the company.”
“The company doesn’t need saving,” I say in disgust. “What you mean is it could trigger a few more quarters of growth because that’s all they care about—growth. But you can’t grow forever.”
Tyrone sighs. “Tell that to the shareholders.”
Sitting on the private jet, feeling like an ass, I set up my phone on a tripod and lean forward, staring at the lens. Tyrone said I shouldn’t use a high-quality camera. He thinks everything will seem better low-tech for the tone we’re going for.