ready to throw my hands up and walk off in exasperation. It feels like I’ve been answering the same damn questions since morning. It doesn’t matter how many different ways those questions get asked… they’re still the fucking same!
But I hold my temper and hitch a politely-interested smile on my face. This is what it means to lead a company. I can’t afford to throw a childish tantrum just because I’m irritated.
I don’t see Opal again. Before I know it, I look at the clock and it’s almost six o’clock at night, long after most of the other employees have left. My entourage is starting to show signs of wanting to leave as well, a wish that I’m more than happy to grant right now.
“Thank you for the tour,” I say graciously. “My team will talk to you all later regarding the results of this inspection.”
“All good, I hope,” the current manager says with a laugh.
I give him a thick smile in return, watching him visibly wilt in nervousness. “We’ll see.”
Without further ado, I dismiss them. They’re quick to leave until I’m finally standing alone in the foyer of the company building. I rub the bridge of my nose.
Overall, it wasn’t a bad inspection, but I spent most of the time exasperated by the way everyone almost bowed and scraped to me, wanting to ensure that I gave them a good report just because they were nice to me. Luckily for them, I saw no real oddities. Everyone was working to a professional standard and the areas were clean. It was nice and normal.
Now I just have to go home and figure out how to put that into a lengthy report that will meet my father’s standards. I scowl. My father had great fun telling me that these are the sorts of reports that I’ll have to read and write when I take over.
Overhead, the lights flicker off, leaving the foyer lit only by the setting sun. I’m rooted to the spot, though, looking around slowly. In a few months, this is all going to be mine. The idea is as terrifying as it is exhilarating.
Two years ago, my father, Harold McNamara, started talking about retirement. I hadn’t thought he was serious at the time. Even now, he’s a strong, wiry old man who is energetic and boisterous. He built McNamara Enterprise from the ground up when he was a young man himself, before he met my late mother. At the time, it was just a small company dealing with the stocking of goods for grocery stores.
When my father started to dabble in technology, however, the company grew beyond even his comprehension until it had overtaken almost every sector in the country. He stands at the head of that empire, controlling each part with an ease that I’m sometimes jealous of, certain that I could never achieve what he has.
So, the idea of retirement was laughable. Then he started talking about it in more seriousness. He began to comment on my growing maturity, started giving me tasks within the company that he would normally do himself.
Last year, I ended up controlling the entire clothing sector because he stepped back and let me at it. Then, five months ago, he dropped the bombshell on me: Harold McNamara was leaving his company in my hands so he could retire for good and travel the world.
My first impulse was to say no.
It was my second and third impulse, too.
But, gradually, I’ve become used to the idea. Part of me doesn’t think I’ll be able to do anywhere near as well as my father, but, deep down, I’m honored. Proud that he thought I had changed enough to be ready for this kind of power.
I know what I was like before. Drunk on influence and wealth, I was a menace in my teens and early twenties. I had a different girl on my arm every week and gossip magazines featured my sordid stories more often than not. I wanted no responsibility, I just wanted to have fun.
Then my mother got sick. Three months later, she died. From there, everything changed.
I sigh and run a hand through my hair, my shoes clacking against the hardwood floor as I cross the foyer and push open the side door. The sky is awash in red and orange as the sun slowly sets.
I saunter toward the car park. I’m in no hurry. I have no appointments to keep, and there is no one waiting for me at home.