CHAPTER NINETEEN
I take a deep breath and try to make sense of what I feel about what just happened. I’m about to send Rachel a message when I hear Mason yelling and a faint round of applause. He must have fired the first casualty.
Mason bursts into my office. “You’re not going anywhere,” he says. “I have an opening on my team and I want you to fill it.”
I’m completely lost for words and look at him stupefied.
“I’ll match the offer here,” he says, “whatever it is.”
I’m still dumbfounded. This morning is entirely too strange and I didn’t get enough sleep last night. Thinking of last night does make the offer that much more appealing though, and for a moment I wonder if Mason isn’t perhaps a foul-mouthed blessing in disguise.
His phone buzzes in his pocket and he pulls it out. “Stupid sons of bitches,” he says, and storms out of my office just as quickly as he came in.
I second-guess the whole blessing in disguise sentiment. This is more along the lines of a rock and a hard place.
Rock and hard jumble in my mind and I think of Patrick. I wonder if I could continue to deal with batshit crazy if it meant I could be with Patrick, who is rock hard in so many different ways, all of which make me smile. I grab my phone to see if he’s answered my heart vomit message. Still no reply, which means he’s probably working on a tat.
I make my way to Rachel’s office, needing a dose of in-person sanity.
“What just happened?” Rachel asks as soon as I walk into her office. She’s yelling, almost as loud as Mason down the hall.
I close the door.
Her eyes are still large with question. “What happened?”
I’m not sure what to dish first. I decide to just blurt out everything. “New teams. Closure. Mason just offered me a job—my old job. I think. But twice the salary. Whatever the package is.”
She shakes her head. “Wait, wait, wait. New teams I know about—or just found out about,” she says, “so skip that. What happened with Weismann?”
“Well—”
She cuts me off. “Wait, he just offered you the same job you have?”
We both pause for a moment as we hear Mason yelling in the hall, even through the closed door.
“That’s about as batshit crazy as he is,” she says. “You can’t be seriously considering it.”
“It’s been five minutes,” I say, “that’s not long enough to seriously consider anything. But now I am.”
She shakes her head in disbelief.
“Patrick,” I say. “Problem solved. Win-win. I don’t have to go anywhere and I get what I would have gotten if I left.”
“Yeah but for how long? I told you, he was already trying to get rid of you. And you really don’t want to be here. Do you know what one of the new hires said to me? Nice tits!”
It takes me a moment to pick up my face. “Is that why you’re leaving?”
“Hell yes,” she says. “Who says that? And to HR? I almost clocked him like you did Kevin.”
“Dammit,” I say.
“Take the job in Berlin and run,” she says, “as fast as you can.”
Mason is once again yelling in the hall and it hits me. I know exactly what I have to do.
“I’m quitting too,” I say.
“What about Berlin?” She asks.
“Not worth it,” I say. “And it’s not even because of Patrick. I’m tired of all the toxic drama.” It’s another statement I realize the truth of as it comes out.
I didn’t used to be like this. It’s like I’ve absorbed the crazy and professional inappropriateness of this place and it’s changed me for the worse. I feel a sudden relief as the realization clicks that not every workplace can be like this, if they were, they’d all be shut down and mired in lawsuits. I feel an even bigger wave of relief as I realize that I do have what it takes to survive.
“We can walk out together,” I say.
She looks at me with seriousness. “Are you sure?”
“As sure as you are,” I say, though inside that’s not completely true. “Or sure enough, anyway.”
She smiles. “Well, nice to see you back.” She laughs. “We can job hunt together,” she says. “With Kevin.”
I give her the cut the bullshit look.
“Or not,” she says. She now seems to be second-guessing her enthusiasm. “But think about it. With you there, at least there’s someone sane in charge. If you’re not doing this for Patrick, don’t throw away everything.”
There’s a sudden bang down the hall, loud enough to send Rachel and me into the hall to check the commotion. As we go to check things out, we see that we’re not the only ones concerned.
A crowd has formed in front of Mason’s office. Rachel and I look at each other then run to join the crowd.
“You son of a bitch!” Mason is yelling and screaming, as per usual, and also throwing things, also par for the course.
“Who’s he firing?” I ask.
“The guy from Germany,” someone says.
Rachel and I look at each other wide eyed. “Weismann?”
“Get out,” Mason yells. “You can’t fire me. I am this company. Get out now! Before I throw you out, you Nazi!”
“Whoa,” I say to Rachel. This is extreme even for him.
I can’t hear what Weismann is saying. Whatever it is it’s in a much calmer tone than Mason’s, even after the terrible low blow of an insult.
Something else comes crashing into the wall, maybe a stapler, maybe a picture.
“Get out! Now!” Mason yells. “Or god help me…” Something else makes a thud. It sounds like a chair being over turned.
“Has anyone called security?” I ask.
I’m slightly concerned for both Mason and Weismann. I don’t know who’d win in a brawl between the two, nor do I want to find out, but what I can say, having seen Weismann naked several times, is that he definitely has the brawn to pack a punch.
Then again, Mason’s muscles are Texas sized and the rumor is that he’s a former Marine, so I’m pretty sure he can hold his own.
“You faggot son of a bitch!” Mason yells.
We all gasp at his words, then jump as what sounds like his computer crashes against the wall.
“Call security,” I say to Rachel. She runs back to her office.
I gird myself and burst through the door. “Hey!” I yell as I enter the room.
I duck as Mason’s office phone comes flying at me. It hits someone standing in the doorway
“Get out of here,” both Mason and Weismann yell at the same time.
I freeze at the sight of Mason and Weismann standing there chest to chest. Weismann’s around half a foot taller, 6’4”, one of the things that attracted me to him in the first place. “I’m going to ask you again to calm down,” he says to Mason.
“And I’m going to tell you again to get the hell out,” Mason says. “I’m going to give you to the count of three. Then I’m going to knock your ass back to Oktoberfest. One…” he says.
“Hey,” I say, interrupting the countdown. I realize I have nothing to follow that as both Weismann and Mason look at me.
“Three,” Mason says, and without warning sucker punches Weismann, who’s still looking in my direction.
We all let out a collective gasp as Weismann hits the floor.
I rush over to see if he’s okay.
Him lying there unconscious fills me with rage.
“Get him out of here,” Mason yells.
“Are you fucking crazy?” I yell. I take several deep breaths, trying to control the temper Rachel attributes to my star sign. “What is wrong with you?”
“Get him out of here,” Mason yells again. “Both of you, get out of my office, now!”
Adrenaline makes my body shake uncontrollably. I look at Mason from the ground next to Weismann. I try to keep thinking, in hopes that rationality triumphs over rage. But thinking doesn’t help, as my mind visualizes tackling him like a rugby player and sending him flying into his desk.
“You going to defend your boyfriend’s honor?” Mason spits.
I’m drunk on adrenaline. My breaths get more rapid and shallow and I shake. My brain tells me I can kick his ass. I know I can. And even if I can’t it’ll be a fair fight and I’d get in some extremely satisfying blows. But I think about the uncontrolled rage and emotions that have gotten the best of me all of this time. I think about who I’ve become since working here. It dawns on me that this is the leadership I’ve known in my years working here. My first boss/former lover, knocked out before me, and my current boss, whose rage is more terrible than my drunken worst. I realize that my fight isn’t with either of them, but with me, and what I expect of myself. I’m not going to attack him, despite every muscle and the drunken rage of adrenaline telling me to.
He looks down at me in disgust. “You’re fired,” he says. “Get the fu-”
He doesn’t finish his sentence. His phone, like a karmic boomerang, comes crashing into his face, sending him flying backwards over his desk.
The crowd in the hall erupts with hoots and applause.