Chapter 2 - What She Called a Favor
Eddie’s wife, Rosa, opened the door before I reached the porch.
She took one look at my suit and said, “Kitchen.”
No questions.
No invitation to explain why I was standing in the rain carrying nothing but a folder.
Eddie sat across from me while Rosa made coffee.
He read the release slowly.
Then he read it again.
“That signature’s from the site access acknowledgment.”
I looked up.
“You recognize it?”
“You signed crooked because the clipboard was resting on a coil of cable. I remember giving you grief about your handwriting.”
I pulled up our scanned project records.
There it was.
The same angle.
The same broken line.
Even the little ink spot beside the final letter.
Eddie leaned back.
“Well.”
That single word contained more anger than shouting would have.
My phone vibrated against the table.
Lauren.
Then again.
Then a message.
You humiliated me in front of my entire company.
Rosa read my expression.
“Don’t answer tonight.”
Another message arrived.
Whatever Nina told you, she doesn’t understand the arrangement.
I turned the screen toward Eddie.
He looked at the release.
“What arrangement?”
“Apparently one everybody knew about except the person paying for it.”
By midnight, Lauren had sent eleven messages.
She called the jokes harmless.
She called the release preliminary.
She called my departure cruel.
Not once did she ask whether the missing money had endangered the business.
At six the next morning, I unlocked our shop.
The vans stood beneath the yard lights, dented and familiar.
Inside, our fourth employee, Tessa Nguyen, was labeling bins of connectors while Marcus searched for an energy drink he had apparently already consumed.
Ben looked up.
“Morning, boss.”
I nearly lost my nerve.
These people had families, rent, car payments, and plans. They did not need the details of my broken engagement.
They did need the truth about their jobs.
“Can everybody come into the office for ten minutes?”
Eddie arrived carrying breakfast sandwiches.
He put one in front of me before sitting.
I explained the unpaid invoice.
I explained that the customer had produced a release I had never signed.
I did not explain Lauren’s speech until Marcus asked why I looked as though I had slept in a truck.
“Engagement’s off,” I said.
Ben’s face fell.
“Oh, man.”
Tessa folded her arms.
“Because of the invoice?”
“Because of what the invoice showed me.”
Nobody demanded details.
Eddie asked the useful question.
“How long can we operate?”
I had done the calculations at four in the morning.
“Six weeks without changing anything. Longer if I delay replacing the second van and draw less.”
Marcus looked toward the yard.
“The second van has survived on prayer since July.”
“It’s a strong prayer.”
A little laughter moved around the room.
I welcomed it.
Then I said, “Your wages come first. I’m meeting an attorney today. Keep recording your work the way you always do. No one contacts Northstar directly.”
Tessa nodded.
“And nobody goes over there to remove anything.”
I looked at her.
“I wasn’t planning to.”
“Good. I’m stating it before Marcus gets creative.”
Marcus raised both hands.
“I had not yet become creative.”
After they left, Eddie stayed.
“You don’t have to carry the whole thing alone.”
“I own the company.”
“Then own it properly. Ask for help before the floor gives out.”
At nine, I met June Alvarez.
She represented small contractors and had a desk covered in neatly stacked files.
She examined the contract, inspection approval, invoices, alleged deficiencies, and disputed release.
Then she looked at me.
“First, we preserve everything. Second, we separate the relationship from the commercial dispute. Third, we stop you from saying anything online while you’re angry.”
“I haven’t posted.”
“Excellent. Keep that streak alive.”
She asked for a chronology.
Dates.
Names.
Emails.
Work performed.
The exercise steadied me.
Facts had edges.
Pain did not.
At noon, Lauren appeared outside the shop.
She wore sunglasses despite the clouds.
“Can we talk?”
I stepped outside.
She looked past me toward the open service bay.
“Somewhere private.”
“This is private.”
Her mouth tightened.
“I was trying to help you.”
I waited.
“Simon said the project was over budget. If I could reduce vendor costs, it would demonstrate leadership.”
“So you offered my money.”
“Our money, eventually.”
I stared at her.
“We aren’t married.”
“We were going to be.”
“That doesn’t make my employees volunteers.”
She looked away.
For the first time, the story she had prepared seemed too small for the facts.
Then she said, “You could have just told me you were upset.”
I felt something inside me settle.
“I did, Lauren. You told me to trust you.”
May you like
She had no answer.
I went back inside.
