Broken Vows (Domestic Discipline Romance) (2 page)

"Those reports are not required for the second phase meeting," Tristen said.

"Tuner and Whiting Contracting won't even consider our proposal or designs unless they know the construction is feasible," Josh retorted. "They will have already hired a geologic engineering firm and will want to compare those results with ours. They will not view our lack of those reports favorably. I have explained this to you countless times. It is sloppy work to go in unprepared. Mr. Pugh, I have completed the designs, the costs, and the man-hour estimates. I have completed the presentation except for the missing reports. However, without those reports, we are wasting our time."

"I realize you are an excellent architect, Josh, but I disagree," Mr. Pugh said. "I have also noticed in the last couple of weeks that you have been missing time, as a result of a family problem, I believe. I am turning this project over to Tristen. Your work here is valued, Josh, but I think Tristen will be less distracted and in a better position to follow through with it."

"I have done ninety percent of this work by myself! Any time I missed, I have come back and made up the hours. Look at your security badge check-in logs," Josh exploded. "This has been my project from the beginning. Yeah, I am only a contractor, and no, you did not officially announce I was the lead, but I have done the job of the lead. I have complained to you about Tristen's lack of work since the beginning. If you think for one minute I will turn over my work to an incompetent like Tristen Connors, you can think again!"

"My decision is final," Mr. Pugh said. "You will turn over the documentation for the project along with the final designs. We will have a dry-run of the presentation this afternoon and then Tristen assumes the lead."

"No," Josh said decisively. "Any documentation belonging to the company is already on the server in the project files. You will also find a detailed record of design changes requested by Mr. Whiting and the paper trail outlining my requests for work to be completed by Tristen Connors, most of which has not been done. What is not on the company server is the work I completed on my own time.

"Frankly, Mr. Pugh, your research databases are phenomenal, but your programs for the actual drawing of the designs are four upgrades behind. That was one of the reasons I used my current programs at home. There is also a paper trail of my requests for those software upgrades and your refusals. My designs, my drawings, the presentation and everything else, belong to me."

"Those designs are company property," Mr. Pugh barked.

"No, they are not, Mr. Pugh," Josh countered firmly. "According to my contract, a supervisor, and a first-line management head must sign off and pay for designs before they become company property to be used or presented to a client. I have no supervisor and you are the only first-line manager in the firm. I called and emailed you repeatedly to schedule meetings to obtain those sign-offs and final approvals. You have put me off for the last several weeks."

"If the work was produced during working hours, it belongs to the firm," Mr. Pugh blustered.

"You are not listening. What work I completed at the office is on the server. However, this job required a team of at least five men. Instead, you only assigned Tristen and me. Tristen did not pull his weight and you have a long string of complaints filed by me stating those facts.

"You can check your IT logs. I have not signed into company licensed design software since this project began. I created the designs on my time, in my home, on my computers. Those designs belong to me, as does the presentation and the mock-up model. My time, my tools, my property. You are the one who failed to sign-off, approve, and pay for those designs."

"You can't walk out in the middle of this project and withhold those plans," Mr. Pugh bellowed, his face turning red. "This is unacceptable behavior. My lawyers will be contacting you!" He reached for his phone. "Darla, send for security!"

"Your company lawyers wrote the contracts, Mr. Pugh," Josh reminded him, realizing he was surprisingly calm. "In nearly every clause, it is written in favor of the company. You are the one who makes all the profits from the contractor's work."

"Don't do this, Josh," Tristen interjected. "Your reputation will be ruined."

Josh shook his head. "I don't think so. I have been stifled for two years under this company's lousy work policies and barely legal work ethics. It's the equivalent of working in a cage. No more, I am done.

There was a knock on the door and Mr. Pugh's secretary opened the door to admit a security officer.

"You will hear from my lawyers," Mr. Pugh said, getting to his feet and glaring at Josh. He turned his attention to the security guard, "Escort Mr. Grayson to his office. Make sure he does not remove any company property. Call the IT department and tell them to lock down his computer. He is to take only personal property with him. Search his car before he leaves. If there is a model in it, remove it, it belongs to the company."

"I can't do that, Mr. Pugh. You need a
search and seizure
warrant from the police to do that," the security officer said calmly.

* * *

"I guess I won't be seeing you around any longer," Lamarr Winston, the security officer, said as he escorted Josh to his office.

"Probably not," Josh replied honestly. " If Marcus needs any help with his math, call me. If I am not available, talk to Gene Lincoln. We can't let a kid as smart as your son slip through the system simply because his teachers don't have the time to tutor him."

Lamarr nodded in a friendly manner, and then he grimaced and looked uncomfortable. "I'm sorry, but I have to do this."

"It's not a problem, Lamarr, do your job," Josh said, opening his briefcase. He watched as Lamarr rifled through his papers, handled his car keys, and looked at a small toy Darth Vader on a keychain. Lamarr peered intently at Josh. He knew what it was, but he handed the keychain to Josh who put it in his pants pocket.

"Cute." He ignored the fact that the
toy
was a flash drive.

"My daughter gave it to me for Christmas," Josh said, gathering several framed photographs of his kids and his wife, and putting them in his briefcase. "You know, I'm not sure if I just quit, or if I was fired. Mr. Pugh did mention sicing his lawyers on me. Where do I go from here?"

"Human Resources… if you didn't give them a letter of resignation first, you've been fired," Lamarr added while looking around the office. "Stack any books belonging to you, along with any other personal stuff from your desk, on this table. I'll get a box and while you are in HR, I'll pack your things."

Josh did as instructed and marveled at his calmness. For some reason, he was not in a panic. He should be terrified, but he wasn't. He was actually somewhat numb. He was sure it would hit him later.

"Be extra careful of what you sign in there," Lamarr said quietly as they approached HR. "I will go pack your stuff."

Josh nodded and entered an office full of people he had known for years. They refused to meet his eyes and acted as if he were a total stranger. He took the time to read every single piece of paper they put before him. He refused to sign several disclaimers. One stated he would not discuss the terms of his dismissal with anyone. Another relinquished all rights to anything he worked on since he had joined the company. Even without a legal background, Josh couldn't believe these were standard or even legal. He folded the two unsigned forms and put them in his coat pocket.

Mrs. Johnson, the HR supervisor, glowered at him. "Those are company property. You must sign them to receive your last check."

"You are wrong and you will not threaten me. I want copies of everything I have signed before I leave. You will hear from my attorney, Henry Grayson, or one of his sons, Tyrell or Hank, Jr."

Mrs. Johnson stared at him from across the desk. She was startled at the name familiar to anyone who read the newspapers or was interested in Connecticut politics.

"My father and brothers," Josh informed her with satisfaction and a bit of smugness. He was bluffing, but he had taken on his Dad and brothers for years in poker, and he was good at bluffing.

He enjoyed the look of shock on her face. Mrs. Johnson knew his last name was Grayson, but she never had reason to connect him with Henry Grayson, Congressman, and Chairman of the Congressional Black Caucus. Josh had taken his adopted name of Grayson at sixteen after living with the family as a foster child for five years.

Lamarr escorted Josh from Human Resources to the lobby, where several of his co-workers had gathered having already heard of his dismissal. They wished Josh well as he turned in his badge. Lamarr walked him out to the car, carrying a cardboard box.

"Do I have your word nothing on the flash drive belongs to the company?" Lamarr whispered.

"I swear to God, everything on Darth Vader belongs to me," Josh assured him. "Someone gave me an excellent piece of advice when I returned here as a contractor. He told me not to put anything on the company server unless the company signed and paid for it first. I owe you for that, and I thank you. Desperate times call for desperate measures."

"Good enough," Lamarr agreed with a nod his head. "This used to be a decent place to work before Mr. Pugh sold out."

"I'm not sure the parent company is responsible for what is happening here. These problems seem homegrown."

He shook hands with his friend and drove out of the parking lot. Waiting at a red light, he swallowed as his gut twisted with anxiety.

He was in debt to his eyeballs, his home mortgage was underwater, and his daughter had emotional problems. He and his wife were living separately, although by a mere fifty feet in their own home, and he had not had sex in almost three friggin months! Two days ago, he had not thought things could get any worse. Today he was unemployed.

* * *

"Will they take you back?" Jenny asked holding her breath.

"I am not going back!" Josh snapped. "Thanks for the support."

"I didn't mean it that way," Jenny exclaimed. "You looked for a job for six months before Pugh and Barkley called you back. Architecture firms took one of the biggest hit in this recession. No one is building and no one is hiring."

"They did not
call me back
," Josh corrected her. "They waited past the six-month period when they would have had to reinstate me with my old title and salary. Then they hired me as a contractor. They laid-off twenty of us, Jen. They only offered eight of us jobs again at half our previous salaries without benefits. They have worked us like dogs ever since. Maybe it is time to change careers, to start over, again. What I've been doing for the last five years isn't working."

"Start over with what?" Jenny demanded.

"I don't know," Josh said wearily. "Jen, I am tired of living from paycheck to paycheck. I am sick of borrowing from Peter to pay Paul. We lived better while we were in college, struggling to pay tuition, and living off Ramen noodles. All we had then was a crappy little apartment with used furniture, but at least we owned it outright. We are so underwater and in debt now, I don't know how we can ever get out from under it. We will probably have to file for bankruptcy."

"This is not all my fault," Jenny exclaimed. Before he could respond, she went on the defensive. "What is wrong with wanting nice things? What is wrong with wanting more than we had before?"

"Nothing, if we can afford it." He started to walk away, but instead went to her and sat down on the coffee table in front of her. He took her hands in his, "Jen, we are drowning and it started with this house."

"You have never forgiven me for buying it!" Jenny accused. "You said you did, but you didn't."

"No, I haven't," Josh admitted. "We agreed on which house to buy, and it was one we could afford. I came home from a business trip to find this albatross strung around our necks. It has been choking us to death ever since. You spent our down payment on furniture, and then took money for the down payment from your mother! Our marriage was based on honesty, but then you destroyed it."

"It was a gift," Jenny said, pulling away.

"No, it has been a curse," he snapped. "A gift is given freely. It does not come with strings and constant reminders. There hasn't been a day since you took her money that she has not reminded us of it. She will not let us forget. We have been in bondage to your mother for the last five years. I've heard her call you ungrateful and exploit your guilt so often I have wanted to strangle her. How many times has she reminded us how much we owe her and that we live in this house thanks to her generosity? I can live without her kind of help because it is a life sentence! Every time I see her, I choke on self-contempt. We owe her and she won't let us forget it!"

"She's my mother," Jenny exclaimed pulling away from him and bursting into tears.

"Denise has become our jailer, it has to stop!"

"Josh!"

"I mean it, Jen, we have allowed her to take us hostage. I don't know how, but I will get us out of this mess, starting with the sale of this house. You have to make a choice. We can't fix this if you continue to sabotage us."

"What choice?" Jenny demanded.

"Your marriage or your mother," Josh said bluntly. "I will not deal with her anymore. I will not continue to pay for her arrogant lifestyle when it jeopardizes the welfare of my children. Listen to me, Jenny, and for God's sake… hear me. I don't want to walk away from you, but I will. I will NOT walk away from my children; they go with me."