probably because of his intransigent and controlling nature. Getting him to see what I’ve figure out takes one level stare, his eyes meeting mine in the mirror. I can almost picture the gears in his head working. It takes a second, but he puts it together.
“He was recording the call.” His eyes shift back to the road but he leans toward the wheel and rakes a hand down his face before giving a weary sigh.
“How do you know he was recording?” Vann asks. I let McRae answer.
“He let the answering machine pick up first. Jeez, what did I say?” He mumbles the last part to himself.
“How does any of this make sense?” Vann asks.
I lean forward coming to rest between the two front seats. “If he’s documented that he’s asked repeatedly to not be called Pops without success, that’s harassment. If your performance evals reflect the time off he’s taken as negative to his job performance and he’s got clear medical issues, that’s a case for discrimination.”
“I knew you were spreading things too thin,” Vann says before shifting closer to the door. Apparently, a whack to the arm is a small price to pay to get in another I-told-you-so dig. He turns to me. “I told him hiring old friends who needed a good job didn’t mean they were gonna do a good job. You’d think after two other failures with a personal assistant, my brother would get smart.”
I hand McRae my notes.
“What’s this?” He glances between the paper and the road.
“That’s everything you said. You’ll need to show it to your lawyer.”
He shoots me fleeting glances. As if he can’t wrap his mind around the fact that I may have just done him a solid. I don’t want to be annoyed, but I am. It’s something I’ve become all too familiar with, this impatience with people underestimating me. They see what they want to. Having an overly large chest doesn’t help my plight, either.
“Uh, so... I owe you something more than a thank you, but I can’t even think of a way to repay you,” he says. His drawl is as subtle as his brother’s and charming. He gives me what looks like a shy smile. Or one that shows he isn’t familiar with accepting help.
“We can call it even. Giving me this ride...so...thank you.” Our eyes meet and we smile at each other. I get the impression from the way he shifts awkwardly in his seat that he doesn’t like being in debt to anyone, either.
I can’t stop myself from asking and change my attention to baby brother. “What did you mean, Vann, about hiring friends?” I wonder about McRae’s intentions. The picture being painted is one of a genuinely nice guy. But I’ve yet to come across one in my travels, and I need assurance that my sense of people’s character hasn’t taken a sudden cliff dive. That the road isn’t making me too jaded and cynical. I could have stayed home and achieved that with far more comfort and luxury.
Vann turns to look at me, and I glance at the eyes watching me in the mirror. McRae does an eye roll before looking back at the road.
“Brinn has this idea that he can help some friends from the old neighborhood. Friends who are capable of working but don’t. What my brother doesn’t understand is not everyone is as driven to change their lives as he is. They think they’re getting a free ride but this guy”—he cocks a thumb to his brother—“makes a workaholic look lazy and a taskmaster gentle.”
McRae chuckles and shakes his head.
If I ask the next obvious question, I will be prying for sure and I’ll forever know things about these brothers I’m not sure I want to know. I’m not looking to play twenty questions and divulge anything more about my life. So I keep it simple. “Oh, I see.”
Perception of his character—intact. It’s a relief to know McRae may be the worse businessman ever but at least he has a bleeding heart to balance it out. Oh, how my father would cringe at the thought.
“What are you hoping to find in Florida?” McRae asks,
“He was recording the call.” His eyes shift back to the road but he leans toward the wheel and rakes a hand down his face before giving a weary sigh.
“How do you know he was recording?” Vann asks. I let McRae answer.
“He let the answering machine pick up first. Jeez, what did I say?” He mumbles the last part to himself.
“How does any of this make sense?” Vann asks.
I lean forward coming to rest between the two front seats. “If he’s documented that he’s asked repeatedly to not be called Pops without success, that’s harassment. If your performance evals reflect the time off he’s taken as negative to his job performance and he’s got clear medical issues, that’s a case for discrimination.”
“I knew you were spreading things too thin,” Vann says before shifting closer to the door. Apparently, a whack to the arm is a small price to pay to get in another I-told-you-so dig. He turns to me. “I told him hiring old friends who needed a good job didn’t mean they were gonna do a good job. You’d think after two other failures with a personal assistant, my brother would get smart.”
I hand McRae my notes.
“What’s this?” He glances between the paper and the road.
“That’s everything you said. You’ll need to show it to your lawyer.”
He shoots me fleeting glances. As if he can’t wrap his mind around the fact that I may have just done him a solid. I don’t want to be annoyed, but I am. It’s something I’ve become all too familiar with, this impatience with people underestimating me. They see what they want to. Having an overly large chest doesn’t help my plight, either.
“Uh, so... I owe you something more than a thank you, but I can’t even think of a way to repay you,” he says. His drawl is as subtle as his brother’s and charming. He gives me what looks like a shy smile. Or one that shows he isn’t familiar with accepting help.
“We can call it even. Giving me this ride...so...thank you.” Our eyes meet and we smile at each other. I get the impression from the way he shifts awkwardly in his seat that he doesn’t like being in debt to anyone, either.
I can’t stop myself from asking and change my attention to baby brother. “What did you mean, Vann, about hiring friends?” I wonder about McRae’s intentions. The picture being painted is one of a genuinely nice guy. But I’ve yet to come across one in my travels, and I need assurance that my sense of people’s character hasn’t taken a sudden cliff dive. That the road isn’t making me too jaded and cynical. I could have stayed home and achieved that with far more comfort and luxury.
Vann turns to look at me, and I glance at the eyes watching me in the mirror. McRae does an eye roll before looking back at the road.
“Brinn has this idea that he can help some friends from the old neighborhood. Friends who are capable of working but don’t. What my brother doesn’t understand is not everyone is as driven to change their lives as he is. They think they’re getting a free ride but this guy”—he cocks a thumb to his brother—“makes a workaholic look lazy and a taskmaster gentle.”
McRae chuckles and shakes his head.
If I ask the next obvious question, I will be prying for sure and I’ll forever know things about these brothers I’m not sure I want to know. I’m not looking to play twenty questions and divulge anything more about my life. So I keep it simple. “Oh, I see.”
Perception of his character—intact. It’s a relief to know McRae may be the worse businessman ever but at least he has a bleeding heart to balance it out. Oh, how my father would cringe at the thought.
“What are you hoping to find in Florida?” McRae asks,
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