Butterflies in Honey (Growing Pains #3)(33)

In answer, he sneered. He wasn’t all that witty.

“In answer to your question,” Krista continued, “I’m glad the Giants mopped the floor with those Dodger hacks.”

To the collective intake of breath she smiled.

The San Francisco Giants and the L.A. Dodgers were rivals. The Giants were currently on a winning streak. Soon all their good players would be traded elsewhere for more money, then the winning streak would go to another team, but they were having a good year. Krista didn’t care at all about baseball, but she liked to rub it in to the faces of Dodger fans that she was from Giant’s country. Especially to these particular Dodger fans.

A scowl spread across Bob’s face. Before he could retort, because he always did, Sean walked in. He glanced around the table, noticed Krista segregated from the rest of the managers, and mimicked Bob’s scowl. Instead of commenting on it, he said, “Where’s Dean?”

Krista shrugged, unconcerned. It was no business of hers. The boys all thought she got her job laying on her back. She’d told Emily that once, thinking it would elicit a laugh—it was Emily’s husband that hired Krista, after all—but instead Emily went on a tirade of how disgusting the L.A. branch was. It was the last time Krista mentioned something like that to Emily.

Chapter Ten

Sean picked up the phone, got no answer, and then slapped it back down. He had five managers: one that did great work, one that did good work, one that did decent work, and two that were completely useless. He’d hoped the guys would gel with Krista and take an example, like his team in San Francisco had, but no such luck. She was exiled and ridiculed, and time was ticking. If he didn’t whip them into shape soon, he would never hope to get his region producing.

“Geegee, go sit with the others,” He said to Krista.

Sean had always thought he was a good leader. It took this team, trying to bring them together on his own, for him to realize he was a great judge of talent and excellent at big picture plans, but not a leader. Krista was the one that got stubborn workers to deliver—whether by insightful suggestions, example, or pure bullying. She put his business plan into action. That realization had been a hard pill to swallow.

And now she was an outsider, she wasn’t invested, and therefore not motivational. It left him in a bind.

What’s worse, he couldn’t bridge that gap. Sean hadn’t realized the extent of the hurt he’d caused—not until that Friday night when Krista slapped him, in fact. For a woman that thought slapping a guy would get her slapped back—her abusive ex-boyfriend could be thanked for that—her violence was testament to how hurt and upset she was.

And if he was really honest with himself, what she said was correct. He hadn’t wanted the long-term commitment so soon. He hadn’t wanted to leave everything behind with nothing but the hope that it would work out.

He hadn’t been ready.

Again with the hindsight.

He did not look forward to the mass quantities of crow he would have to eat to sort all this out. Krista would rake him across the coals until she was satisfied she could trust him again.

Shaking those thoughts out of his head, waiting for Krista to grudgingly go sit next to men that were not her peers, or her equals, Dean walked in, a note pad and pen in one hand, his cup of coffee in another. He was a short man, pudgy, with big, wire rimmed glasses, and a comb over. He lazily strolled toward the end of the table into the middle of the male managers. He was tap-dancing on Sean’s last nerve.

“Dean, I expect you to be on time when I call a meeting. If you can’t make it on time, call my assistant. Is that understood?” Sean pinned Dean to his chair with his stare.

Dean’s eyebrows dipped.

Moving on immediately, Sean looked down at his notes. “Okay, I need to see where everyone is with their assignments. Bob, why don’t you go first?” Sean sat down and gave Bob his attention.

Sean watched in fascination as Bob crinkled his papers, dripped some sweat off his brow, and then reported his half-assed attempt at meeting the goals. Sean could tell Bob put minimal effort into his work. If Krista looked through it, with the expertly trained eye she acquired from Tory, he was sure she’d find all sorts of factual faults.

George went next. Oh wait, Sean was supposed to call him Georgie. He tried not to laugh every time Krista called him Georgina and got a red faced stare. Georgie was a plodder. He didn’t do great work, and he didn’t move all that fast, but he wasn’t lazy either. He might be a bit late, but he made his goals eventually. Sean was only slightly frustrated with him.

“Great. Dean…?” Sean said, sitting back in his chair.

Easily the biggest offender in trying to flout authority, Dean said he had his list done. When asked about it, it turned out he missed a couple bullets, didn’t finish what he had information on, and didn’t put anything together. Basically, at present, he was useless in every way, and thought it was funny. Sean didn’t share the joke.

Next was Donald. Not Don, or Donny. Donald. He was actually not bad, as far as this group of upper-management went. He was particular and precise with perfectly gelled hair in a 1950’s fashion. He always had a closely shaved face and pristine suits without any wrinkles or lint.

Donald had most of his list done, information well organized and probably correct, and was apologetic for not getting to the rest. Sean was satisfied with the answers to his questions, and asked Donald to keep working on it.