Chapter 33

CHAPTER 33

SPENCER

I had to keep my mouth shut. This was a client. I actually needed his business. The assholes at the office were a different story. Every single person in the office had pissed me off or irritated me in one way or another.

Each time I passed by someone, there was a smirk or a snide remark or a knowing glance. Words that concluded I was having some kind of mental breakdown. Under any other circumstance, I would have laughed it off. But today was not any other day. Today, I wanted to punch their smug faces in.

I took another bite of the expensive beef tenderloin. The restaurant had two Michelin stars and was one of my favorite places to take clients that needed to feel like superstars. The beef tenderloin was perfectly seared and medium rare. My client and I had both ordered it. The restaurant was elegant and upscale, with dim lighting creating an atmosphere of sophistication and privacy. The expensive furnishings and artwork remind people why they were paying two-hundred bucks a plate. It was a top dining destination for the rich and famous and those trying to impress their friends and clients. My company had a standing reservation so we could impress clients who wanted to feel like royalty.

"What do you think?" I asked him after he took his second bite of the beef.

He paused, looking thoughtful, then broke into a wide grin. "I think I need to come here more often."

"Consider that arranged," I responded, forcing a smile. I wasn't in the mood for small talk or more flattery. But with business, it was always a game of cat and mouse.

We continued through lunch, talking about his lucrative deal and what our collaboration could mean for both companies. It was typical stuff, but my mind was elsewhere.

I finished my lunch and got to my feet to shake the client's hand. "It was good seeing you," I said.

"Thanks for taking the time to meet with me." He nodded. "I'm feeling good about our prospects."

"Of course. If you have any questions, just reach out. My assistant knows you're one of my VIPs. If you call, I'll answer."

"I appreciate that," he said.

I watched him walk away, making sure to leave a generous cash tip before I left the restaurant as well. I handed the valet my ticket and waited for him to bring my car. I wasn't looking forward to returning to the office. The situation with Marlow was more than difficult and all I wanted to do was lash out at the world.

"Here you go, sir," the eager young man said.

I handed him a twenty and took my keys. I sat in Midtown Manhattan traffic, barely noticing the crowded streets. Beside me, yellow taxis and honking cars all inched along slowly. There was always something to stop traffic from flowing. The sound of car horns and shouting added to the chaos of the scene. It was kind of what I felt like. I wanted to lay on my horn and scream and curse at the world.

I returned to the office and made a beeline to my desk, trying to avoid eye contact with anyone. I shrugged out of my suit jacket and rolled up my sleeves. I would have taken off my tie, but I didn't want to look rumpled. I noticed the file Marlow had left on my desk. I shoved it to the side. I had already made up my mind on that subject.

As I sat there, my mind kept drifting back to Marlow and the mess I'd made of things. I was so angry. I couldn't even truly understand why I was so pissed. It was my fault. Despite that, I hated the whole fucking world. Sitting in the office, I debated getting up and leaving. No one would stop me. Hell, they would probably celebrate after the way things had gone this morning.

There was a knock on my door before it pushed open. I assumed it was Janet, but it was Graham. I looked at him, waiting for him to say what he wanted.

"Spencer, can we talk?" he asked, his tone uncharacteristically serious.

"Not now, Graham. I'm busy."

Graham was persistent. He stepped inside, closing the door behind him. "No, fuck that. What the hell is going on with you, man?"

I glanced down, seeing the file Marlow left. The words she scrawled across it taunted me. With a surge of anger, I swept the file off my desk into the waste basket and leaned back in my chair.

Graham arched an eyebrow. "Did someone shit in your cereal this morning?"

"Fuck off, Graham. You don't need to manage me, okay? I'm fine."

"You're acting like a spoiled brat," Graham said, his voice calm but firm. He swept his hand in a circle, gesturing at me. "All of this? It's not giving ‘fine' vibes."

I narrowed my eyes, my temper flaring. "Can't a guy have a bad day around here?"

"Six out of seven days a week are bad days for you," Graham shot back, pulling out a chair and sitting down. "The guys and I have been talking, Spencer. We're worried about you. At first, we thought this was a temporary mood and it would pass, but it's just getting worse. When Marlow first came around, things were better, but now you're way off the deep end."

I was in no mood to be therapized. "I don't need a fucking intervention. You guys don't understand what's going on."

Graham's eyes hardened. "What's going on is that you're becoming a liability. You need to get your shit together because, as of right now, you're the dead weight on the team and you're killing morale at the office."

The words hit me like a punch to the gut. Resentment bubbled up inside me. "Dead weight? Are you serious? I'm the one who's been working overtime. I brought Marlow on board and secured our most recent massive client, Joshua Powell. While you guys were running around enjoying your summers with your families, I was holding this place together."

Graham's expression softened slightly, but he didn't back down. "You've done a great job but you can't keep lashing out at everyone. We're a team, and you're not acting like it."

I clenched my fists, feeling my anger boil over. "Maybe I'm tired of carrying the weight while everyone else coasts. If you think I'm dead weight, maybe I should just step out and do this on my own. I'd make incredible competition for you guys."

Graham's face was a mixture of surprise and concern. "Spencer, that's not what anyone wants. But if you can't rein in your temper and show a little grace with people, you might need to take some time off. We just want you to get back to the guy who was passionate about this business, who cared about the team."

"Fuck that," I growled. "That's so fucking stupid. If I didn't care about the team, I wouldn't have recruited Marlow who brought in big business. She's already got a reputation and is bringing in more business."

Graham sighed, leaning back in his chair. "Yeah, unless you run her off too."

I stiffened at that. "No one is here against their will."

"Look, I know things have been tough lately, but we're all in this together. If you need help, we're here for you. We just want you to be happy and you're clearly not these days. You can't do this alone, Spencer, and we need you."

"Exactly," I hissed. "You need me to keep busting my ass so all of you can go home at five and not work weekends. You know damn well I'm the one keeping the company at the top. You guys would all be happy to sit back on your asses and let us sink to the tenth rated firm or lower."

Graham frowned, understanding that I had a point. "Okay, I see where you're coming from. But we're not trying to rest on our laurels, Spencer," he said, trying to choose his words carefully. "We're all just a bit overwhelmed and feeling the pressure right now. It's not you against us. We're all in this together, and we all want to succeed. We need to support each other, not tear each other down."

"I'm not the one that showed up in your office and called you dead weight," I shot back.

Graham shook his head, a look of resignation in his eyes. "It wasn't meant like that, Spencer. I just wanted to express my concern and let you know that we're all experiencing the same stress. We need to support each other. When one of us is struggling, it affects us all. Tell me what's going on. Let me help you through it."

"This isn't about you, it's about me," I snapped. "And I'm not dead weight."

Graham sighed, trying to remain calm. "Spencer, I understand that you're upset and feel like you're carrying the weight of the team, but the fact is that we're all still doing the same work. Can you just take a step back and acknowledge that we're on the same side here? What's really going on with you? You've been acting differently lately, and we're all worried about you. You're coming out swinging. You're barking at everyone. You're not fine, dude, and seeing you in pain hurts me too. I care about you, believe it or not."

"I'm busy," I told him. "I don't need you in here trying to pick my brain and make me all better."

"Dude, I say this with love, but you're being a dick."

"Great," I growled. "You've said your piece. Now kindly get the fuck out."

He shook his head. "This isn't going away, Spencer. You don't get to talk to me or anyone else like that. Consider this your one and only free pass. I'm your friend and real friends tell each other when they're fucking up."

He left the office, apparently resisting the urge to slam the door behind him. I sat there, stewing in my resentment. Dead weight? I couldn't believe he'd said that. I had been the one putting in the hours, making the deals, and keeping the business afloat. Or that was how it felt anyway.

Maybe it was time to think about stepping out and doing this on my own. If they thought I was dead weight, then they'd be fine without me.

And I knew I'd make incredible competition for them.

As the day went on, I collected my thoughts and began to consider Graham's words. I was still shocked as hell he actually said it to me. It was absurd. I just got done with a lunch that guaranteed another year of business, which happened to be one of the biggest accounts we had.

And while I hadn't been perfect, I knew that I had been putting in the work and effort to make sure we stayed on top. The team dynamic had definitely shifted. Maybe it was time for a change. I had money and could walk away for good. I could buy a yacht and set sail for the Mediterranean. Then we'd see how much of a dead weight I was.

I got up, grabbed my things, and draped my jacket over my arm. Janet looked up when she saw me. Even she looked scared of me, and there was no humor in her tone. "Do you need something, sir?"

"No. I'm leaving."

"Leaving? I didn't see any meetings on the schedule."

"It's not for a meeting," I said dryly. "I'm just leaving."

She forced a tight smile. "Will you be here tomorrow?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" I snapped.

"I don't know, Spencer," she hesitantly replied, her eyes downcast.

"I'll be here," I said and headed for the elevator, not making eye contact with anyone.

As the elevator doors closed behind me, I let out a breath. I knew I was a raging prick, but I was just so sick of everything. Graham had no idea what he was doing. He was pushing me. I would walk, and when I left, I knew there were several clients that would walk away with me. They were going to see just how much of a dead weight I was.