Page 97 of The CEO Enemy
Regardless of what happens during the meeting, there are only two outcomes for me. Either I convince the board that it’s time for a change, or I don’t. And I have a pretty good idea of what I’m going to do if it’s the second option.
Connor must see the resolve on my face, because he sits up. “I’m ragin’ I can’t be there to see yer dad’s eyes drop out of his head.”
Connor leaves a minute later, and I gather my things to head to the conference room. It’s already set when I get there, and Jasmine pours me a coffee before she leaves. I’m early. But so is my father, who’s definitely more punctual than he normally would be. He’s calm and overbearing, a combination that is never a good sign. But for once, it doesn’t bother me and any frustration or rage that I would normally feel toward him is absent.
Well maybe not gone per se, but it’s definitely not taking center stage. He doesn’t even wait for me to sit down before he starts up.
“I hope you’re prepared, son. This is going to be a long meeting, and there are a lot of things we need to discuss that happened during the last couple of weeks.”
I let his words flow right over me, keeping my attention on the tablet in my hands with my figures and notes. “I agree. We do have a lot to discuss.”
There’s silence, and when I glance up, I can tell he’s confused but trying to mask it. He’s not used to me saying that he’s right, and my response clearly wasn’t what he was expecting. His eyebrows draw together as he studies me carefully. My expression is neutral to match my feelings. It’s gone on long enough, and despite how much he wants to get a reaction out of me, I have none left to give.
“Tsk-tsk-tsk, I never thought I would live to see the day where my son would finally agree with me,” he says. “But before the others arrive, we should discuss this cold shoulder you’ve been giving me as of late. No matter what our father-son relationship is, it shouldn’t affect our work.”
“That would imply that we have a father-son relationship. We don’t.”
For the first time in my life, I notice a genuine reaction from my father. Quite frankly, it looks like he’s been slapped in the face. He looks thoroughly insulted, and even huffs like a child when he crosses his arms and leans back in his seat.
“After all I’ve done for you? This is what I get?”
“What have you done for me?”
After everything that’s been going on, the years of fighting and frustration, I’m ready to be done with it. In order to move on, part of me needs to know what’s going on in his head, because I’ve never been able to get a clear picture of the labyrinthian insanity that is my father’s psyche.
He doesn’t answer me right away. At first, I think he’s stunned, or at the very least, not expecting me to demand examples. Then, after a few long seconds of silence, it dawns on me that he’s not stunned. He can’t find any examples, at least not one that doesn’t sound made up on the spot. I let him stew in silence, not breaking eye contact as I study him.
All I can hear is the ticking of the clock on the wall.
I don’t think I’ve ever felt the distance between us more than I do in this moment.
“I gave you your position in this company,” he suddenly says, back straight and hands folded on the table. His voice doesn’t quite have the gravitas that it usually does. “I have defended you to the board as much as I can. It was me who convinced them to keep you on, even when it was more than clear that your vision for Blackwood simply doesn’t align with ours.”
“I think you mean that my vision doesn’t align with yours,” I say calmly.
“No, I meant what I said.”
“I’ve never needed defending from you or anyone else. Not because I’ve mis-stepped, but because I stand by my statements and decisions.” He knows I’m a damn good manager, and I’m a damn good employee. I don’t need to say it out loud.
“I will never understand why you keep fighting me like this, son.”
“Maybe I wouldn’t if you hadn’t made it clear that you didn’t want one.”
Something shifts in his face, and for the first time in forever, I don’t see my boss staring across from me. I see my father.
“Is that what you think?” he asks.
“You haven’t shown me otherwise.”
I hear footsteps in the hall, and I glance at the door in time to notice Daniela walking in.
My father’s eyes are still on me. I can tell Daniela senses the tension, however, she doesn’t comment. All the board members are used to walking into tension when my father and I are sitting alone in a room together. It’s quite commonplace. Daniela takes a seat to my right.
One by one, the rest of the board members file in, and soon, all seats fill.
Before my father even has a chance to open his mouth, I start the meeting.
“Since we’re all here,” I say, getting to my feet and motioning toward the screen on the wall where my graphs are already loaded, “let’s start going over the numbers for this quarter.”