The Other Side of Greed by Lily Zante

Chapter Eleven

KYRA

It’s quiet as I sit in the office, sipping my cup of coffee. I didn’t sleep well. Not only was it really late by the time I got back, but a thunderstorm rumbled and roared most of the night. I now appreciate more than ever just how quick and efficient Fredrich is at getting things returned after the food events, both to the restaurants and back at the office.

Not only did I not sleep, but my back is worse than before. I have to go easy on myself, but there’s too much to do, too many things to lift and move, and the food nights are always hard.

I don’t know what to make of the new guy. Sometimes he seems to want to help, and other times it feels that he’s begrudgingly doing something he would rather not be doing. I am grateful for his help but he’s no Fredrich. I’ve threatened Fredrich with no pay if he comes back and is less than one hundred percent. I need that man to be back to his normal fit and healthy state.

Brad isn’t coming into the office today, for which I’m thankful. I consider myself to be a good judge of character but I’m not one hundred percent sure of him and I can’t figure out why. I need more time.

“Good morning.” Simona breezes in and eyes the buckets in the corner with disdain. “It was heavy this time, wasn’t it?”

“It caught me unaware,” I say. We’re used to violent thunderstorms in the summer in the Midwest. It’s just a shame that they wreak havoc with the roof.

Simona takes off her coat. “No Fredrich?”

“I told him to take a week or two off. I need him to heal completely and you and I both know that he can’t sit still.”

She looks around. “Where’s Brad? Didn’t you hire him?”

“He’s coming in tomorrow, but he’s going to try to do three days at the start of each week. He’s got another job he needs to be at for the other two days and he’s going to see how he can juggle the two.”

“We should have taken him on the first day we saw him, maybe we could have had him for the whole week then.” By ‘we’ she means ‘me.’ She sits down and switches her computer on.

“That might have been too much. You’ll have him for a few days a week.”

“At least that’s something.” She pushes her silver-rimmed reading glasses up.

“I’m not sure we have much work for him.”

She coughs in exasperation. “You’re always drowning in work. Surely you can offload some things to him?”

Simona seems to have fallen for his words. Me, I’d rather be more wary. I’m a control freak, too, which doesn’t help. But there is no way I’m giving him too much top-level work to do. “We’ll see. I’m not sure.”

Simona looks displeased. “Not sure about what?”

“About him. You’ve spoken to him more than I have. What sort of vibe do you get from him?”

“I like him. What’s not to like? He’s young and good-looking—”

I roll my eyes.

“He wants to help us, he’s happy to work for nothing. He has experience, and he wants to see what he can do for us and with us. Why can’t you accept a good thing for what it is, Kyra?”

“Because when things seem too good, they often are.”

Simona sighs loudly, then pulls out something from her bag. “They got engaged. He proposed!”

I lift my head because she sounds so excited. “Who?”

She opens up a magazine and holds it up so that I can see. I squint. I don’t take any notice of celebrities. They’re not on my radar. Shaking her head, she walks over to me and shoves the magazine in front of my face.

“Elias. He proposed to his girlfriend.”

“Oh.” I take the magazine and examine the photo, which looks like a paparazzi shot of Eli and his girlfriend, Harper. It’s a casual photo, probably taken without them knowing. They’re walking hand in hand along the street. I can’t help but smile. These two make a lovely couple. I’m really pleased for them. I like them both but if Simona hadn’t brought this piece of gossip explicitly to my attention, it would have escaped me. “That’s great news.” I hand the magazine back.

“You might get invited to the wedding.”

“Why would I?”

“You will get an invite. Eli loves you and what you do here.”

“That doesn’t automatically get me an invite to the wedding.”

It wouldn’t surprise me if she’s already planning their wedding in her head. It’s true though. Eli has shown great interest in Redhill. He reached out to us soon after he won the first fight and he came to the factory to meet everyone. It was a pleasant surprise to hear from Chicago’s favorite guy. That visit didn’t even make it into the papers. That’s why I know he’s a decent guy, and he didn’t do this for the publicity. He’s also become our biggest donor. This unknown boxer beat the heavyweight champion of the world against all odds and stole our hearts. He then lost the rematch and sent the city and everyone in it into shock. Now he’s staging a comeback; another rematch next month, and we have plans for that night.

I pray this man wins. We all do, because Eli is so good and so humble.

I go through the pile of letters on my desk, opening them one by one, and become fully engrossed in them.

“There you go, working too hard all the time. You’re so focused on helping everyone else, you’re in danger of forgetting what’s important to you.”

“This is important.” I see children in the food line sometimes. It’s rare for parents to bring children along but when they have no childcare, what are they supposed to do? I see the haunted look in their mothers’ eyes as they struggle to feed the family. The kids are too young to know any different, most haven’t known anything but the daily struggle to survive, but maybe some of these mothers have seen better days.

We were never so broke that we needed this type of help. My mom worked all the shifts she could get to make sure that didn’t happen. But she also taught us that despite how difficult things were for us, others had it so much harder.

I want to give hope back to these women and men, and teach them how to stand on their own two feet. I want them to have what I have, what I never take for granted—food and a roof over my head. Basic human needs.

* * *

The new guy comes in the next day, bright-eyed, and reeking of enthusiasm. I ask Simona to give him a quick tour of the factory and show him around.

“Are you sure you don’t want to do that?” she asks, a hint of hope in her voice. “I’ve got a lot of paperwork to wade through”.

She’s up to something. She’s always on top of her work. I had assumed she’d relish the idea of giving Mr. Hartley a tour. “I’m sure. You go. Brad will appreciate you giving him a tour. I’ll have the pleasure of his company after, when I go through the ground rules.”

“Ground rules? In this place?” He flashes me a smile which I’m sure many have found endearing.

I take offense at that dig. “We run a tight ship here. Don’t think that because these people are more vulnerable than most that we don’t treat them like employees. We have more checks and balances in place, more stringent rules and regulations because of the nature of the business.”

“I didn’t mean to offend you.” He puts his hands up in a placating gesture but that cocky smirk on his face offends me even more. He’s laughing at me. It’s not only on his lips, but there’s a twinkling of mischief in his eyes. Something I can’t pinpoint.

“Let’s go for that tour around the factory floor,” Simona says, ushering Brad out of the door. She gives me a scowl over her shoulder, which Brad obviously doesn’t see.

I call Fredrich, only because I need someone to talk to. Someone who can calm me down.

“What?” He sounds as if he’s half asleep.

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to wake you.” I put the phone down, feeling bad that I’d woken him. Fredrich calls back immediately. “Do you need me to come in?”

“What? No. I didn’t check the time before I called you.” I drop my head, running my fingers along my brow. Fredrich is always ready and willing to work, even when he isn’t one hundred percent fit enough. He was a great hire. He’s not a vulnerable person, not from the streets or anything like that. He used to go for a run around the block and one day, out of curiosity, he walked in and asked what we were doing. When I explained to him the business idea, he was so enthused, he wouldn’t stop bugging me to take him on. Like Brad, he also offered to work for free. He’s grown with the company. “Go back to sleep.” I insist, but he tells me that he’s up now, and asks if I need him to do anything from home.

“Absolutely not. Don’t lift a finger. We have help now.”

“You hired Brad?”

“Yes. Simona’s giving him a tour of the factory floor.”

“Cool. I hope he’s not going to replace me.”

I snort. “Not a chance.” No one could ever replace Fredrich. “I won’t be surprised if he bails on us real quick.”

“Why do you say that?”

“It’s only a hunch.” I don’t say anything more, because if Brad is working here, I need team unity, and it’s not fair for me to put ideas in his head about the new guy. But I saw his face at the food night. I could see behind his shock and dismay. Not everyone can do this work, and Brad is probably one of those people.

I hang up and get back to work, but the morning has been different with Fredrich gone and the new guy here.

Simona returns with our new hire a short while later. He goes and takes his place at Fredrich’s desk, a move I find slightly presumptuous, given that I haven’t told him where to sit. Though Fredrich’s chair is the only one that’s empty.

“Make yourself at home,” I say dryly as he sits down and shifts around in it, trying to make himself comfortable. I laugh inwardly. This must be such a disappointment if he was expecting something made of expensive leather and soft padding.

“Fredrich’s off for a week, maybe more, week so you can sit where he usually does.” I have no idea where to put this guy when Fredrich comes back. This room is too small to accommodate another desk, but maybe by then Brad will be long gone.

“I have an employee contract for you to sign,” I say. “Just to be clear, this is a volunteer non-paying position.”

“I’m absolutely fine with that. I don’t expect to be paid.”

“Good, because you won’t be.”

He laughs as he scratches his nose. “You’re the one who headhunted me, so you obviously need me around.”

“You have Fredrich to thank.” I glare at him, and try not to get too carried away by a myriad of images flooding my mind about how I could wipe that condescending smile off his face. The nerve of the man. Already. “If he hadn’t injured his arm, I wouldn’t have called you.”

“I’ll have to thank Fredrich,” he says, making himself at home in Fredrich’s chair.

“I’m making a cup of tea,” Simona announces, purely for Brad’s benefit. I shift uneasily in my chair because there isn’t much to discuss with this guy.

I’ve taken him on, but I haven’t seen any of his resumes or asked for any references. I never expected to give him a position, and yet I was the one who called him, not really expecting him to show up, and he did.

And now he’s here.

“I’ll need to see a resumé.” I clasp my hands together.

“Not a problem. I’ll get one to you.”

We glance at one another. Distrust hangs heavy in the air, mingling with the cloud of silence. The atmosphere is prickly, sharp and painful. This is going to affect my ability to concentrate.

“Is that a ...bucket?” He stands up then walks over to my desk, standing almost behind me and making me uneasy. “What’s a bucket doing here?”

I swivel around on my chair.

“Oh, Jesus. There are two more.” He eyes the corners diagonally opposite. I scratch the back of my hand, seeing this place through someone else’s eyes is sobering. I’ve been able to overlook it, but this stranger sees all the flaws, the holes, the problems.

“That storm a few nights ago, it caused water to pool on the roof. It’s not a big deal.”

“Not a big deal?” The shock in his voice makes me want to cringe. Why is it that this man has barely been here long and already I’m embarrassed about this factory in a way I have never been before.

“This building is sound and safe. Don’t worry your head about it.”

“How can I not worry about this?” He looks up at the ceiling and he’s still positioned behind my chair and I feel hemmed in. Trapped.

“It’s not your problem,” I say tightly. He’s put me on the defensive with his views and his critical appraisal of the building. I find his proximity too much, so I scowl at him, hoping he’ll realize he’s overstepped his boundary and leave me alone. As I glance over my shoulder and up at him, I am horrified to find him peering at my computer screen.

“Shopping on company time,” he tsks, and that really annoys me. Heat pinches my cheeks and I quickly close my browser. I was looking for a pair of sneakers. He has a cavalier attitude, as if he’s in charge, as if he’s forgotten that I’m giving him a chance to work for us. I’ve done him a favor instead of it being the other way around. He has delusions of grandeur I don’t like.

“Can you go back to your desk?” I make no effort to tamp down the resentment in my voice. I have never wasted company time. Instead, I give this company my all. I spend a lot of my weekends here clearing up storerooms, doing an inventory check of the food and supplies for the business as well as for the food events, and then I shop for these things.

I am entitled to taking a little work time for my personal reasons. This upstart catching me on one of my rare occasions really pisses me off.

“Do I make you nervous?” he asks.

“I’m not nervous.”

His eyes twinkle. “You seem a little frazzled.”

“I’m. Not. Frazzled.” From where did he develop this sense of familiarity? Fredrich has been here for years and he’s never spoken to me like that.

“You shouldn’t be working in such conditions.” He taps one of Fredrich’s pens on the table. “That roof could be dangerous.”

“It’s not. As you can imagine, we have lots of rules and regulations which we have to abide by, and we do.”

“Still, it’s a safety concern.” He stares up at the ceiling.

“It’s fine.” My teeth snap together. I don’t see why he’s making such a big deal about it. “The roof isn’t going to collapse. Are you scared of getting your hair wet?”

Simona walks in just as I say that, and stands in the doorway, looking from me to Brad, with her dainty teacup and saucer in her hand. “I’ll come back if you haven’t finished.”

I take a few deep, steadying breaths. “You can stay. There’s nothing we can’t discuss in front of you.”

“No, no,” she insists and disappears again.

“What type of work did you say you did abroad?” I am more curious than ever to get the lowdown on this guy.

“I didn’t. I mean,” he coughs lightly, “I helped out on some community projects in … uh … in El Salvador.”

“In El Salvador?” I’m aware that many community projects take place in less developed countries, and that there are many tour agencies that facilitate such things. “Who was that with?”

“Excuse me?” He looks confused.

“Which agency did you go with?”

“I didn’t use an agency. I’m not a wuss and I’m okay with traveling alone.”

I stare at him. “You said you worked for some start-ups in Silicon Valley. I’ll need a reference from a former employer.”

“Is that necessary, now that I’ve started?” He stands up. For a moment, it looked like he was about to pull at his shirt sleeves, but he’s wearing a t-shirt.

I sense resistance. “It’s necessary. I need a resumé, too.”

“Do you want to hear about what I can offer to your company?”

“Sure. Just don’t forget about the paperwork I need from you.” I remind him.

“I won’t.” He looks around. “I need a whiteboard. Do you have one?”

“Nope.”

“How do you brainstorm ideas?” He looks at the walls, dirty and peeling. I suddenly feel more self-conscious than ever.

“We talk.”

He shakes his head in disbelief. “Your setup doesn’t help.”

“With what?” I sit back and fold my arms defensively.

“I suppose you don’t even have a conference room?”

“We don’t need a conference room.”

He swipes a hand over his forehead, as if this place, this setup, me and my management team, are a farce. I don’t like his attitude one bit. I stand up slowly. “I don’t think this is going to work.”

His shoulders slump. “Because I’m telling you some hard facts?”

“Because your tone is insulting.”

“I’m making observations.”

“So far you’ve observed that we have buckets to catch the water, and that I’ve been surfing online on company time. You’re complaining about the setup, and the building, and what you perceive to be a shortage of good resources.” I cock my head. “Are you a journalist, looking for a story on me? I don’t like to do interviews, but believe me, if this is why you’re here, this isn’t going to get you anything.”

He throws his head back. “I don’t need a story. You’re the story. You’re the one everyone talks about.”

Simona walks in with her cup and saucer still in her hand. “I can’t stand up for too long. I need to sit down.”

“I never told you to leave,” I say to her. This isn’t the type of morning I had in mind. I put a hand to my back. I think I pulled something while I was lifting the boxes and shifting things the other night.

“Have you injured your back again?” chides Simona.

“I’ll be fine. It always gets worse after food night.” I decide to leave and walk around the factory floor. Or maybe I should check the storeroom. Anything to get away from here. Or maybe I can send Brad out to check for me.

“Will you run Brad through the inventory check in the storeroom when you can?” I ask Simona.

“Don’t you want to do it?” There she goes again, trying to offload him onto me.

“No. It’s fine. You go ahead. You can get started on things now.” An idea comes to me. Why not get him to do the menial tasks I usually end up doing? “Can you show Brad the inventory list and have him go through and write down how much we have of everything?” I ask her, eyeing Brad with a sense of jubilation. “You can make yourself useful from the get-go.” The corner of my lips curl up into a satisfied smile.

“Lucky me,” he mumbles, loud enough for me to hear. Instantly, my elation freezes. That hint of insubordination puts me on alert.

“You’re the one who came to me, looking for work,” I remind him. “You’re free to leave at any time.”

The plastic smile he slaps on his face makes me sit up. He can’t even be bothered to hide his displeasure with the task I’ve set him. “I’m happy to be here,” he tells me, as he saunters out after Simona.

I’m left wondering what I’ve let myself get into.