Raine (Gods of the Fifth Floor #2) - M.V. Ellis Page 0,20
up the messes. It seemed that the ridiculously smooth and good-looking Nate was that person.
Chapter 8
Raine
* * *
As soon as the last creative was out of the room, I turned to Nate. “Don’t do that again.”
“Do what?”
“Don’t play dumb with me. We all know you’re anything but, and you don’t do anything by accident.”
“That’s as may be, but it still doesn’t mean that I know what your crazy ass is talking about, so you’d better spell it out and stop wasting everyone’s time.”
“Don’t jump in and act like you have to clean up after me, and definitely don’t fucking interrupt me mid-sentence, when I’m addressing my staff. The Creative Department is my area of expertise, and my jurisdiction, and I’ll handle things any way I see fit.”
“Even if it makes you sound and seem like a militant despot?”
“Even then.”
“Well that’s all good in theory, but in reality, if one pissed-off employee mentions your unreasonable ways to a friend or two, it’s just another opportunity for you to build a reputation in the industry as a total asshole.”
“So, the fuck what? This isn’t a fucking popularity contest, it’s work, business.”
“You don’t have to explain business to me. I’m well aware of the need to maintain an air of professionalism at all times, hence my reluctance to let you berate the teams for an hour straight, then basically forbid them from attending their kids’ birthday parties.”
“Who the fuck cares? We need to do what we need to do to get the job done.”
“I care, as do Beck and Dillon. And more to the point, the industry cares. The press cares. A lot.”
“Whatever, man. We’re not running a fucking daycare. We’re not here to babysit these people. They work for us, and get paid handsomely for the privilege. What am I supposed to do? Present them each with a bunch of flowers then fall on my knees to beg for their co-operation. Fuck that.”
“Come on, dude, there’s a lot between that and the unhinged creative routine you just pulled. I’m not saying you need to become a total pussy, I’m just saying dial back the crazy a little. You know, maybe if you got a little sleep from time to time, instead of surviving on a diet of Colombian marching powder, whiskey, and sex, you’d know the difference between passionate and driven, and totally psychotic.” A movement at the back of the room reminded me that the temp PA was still present.
I glanced at her as she fidgeted uncomfortably. She looked like she’d rather be anywhere but there, as she started to rise from the table as though to leave the room. I shot her a look that I hoped conveyed, “Sit your ass the fuck down,” and she lowered herself hesitantly back into her seat.
“And in case you weren’t getting it, just now, you were on the wrong side of that line. Waaaay wrong,” Nate continued.
“Seriously? And this is you not being a pussy? What about you two?” I looked at Beck and Dillon.
“He’s right, man. Like I get it, you care, maybe too much, and yes, it’s a mess you created, but when we said you need to man up and fix it, we didn’t mean that you need to get us into the trade publications for running a fucking sweatshop. It’s not only bad for morale for current staff, but it will also leak out into other areas of our business, which means that we won’t attract the best recruits or clients.”
“Who cares about those clients? Haven’t we always said that natural selection is a thing? If they don’t want us, we don’t want them.” Why the fuck was I having to remind them of this shit?
“Well, that’s true, but that doesn’t mean we want to scare off every potential client before we even get them into a room with us, does it? Look, nobody is asking you to walk away from being you. We know who and what you are, and we love you for it—most of the time, anyway, but it can be a little… much. That’s all.”
“Everything’s a little much to you, Dill, just by virtue of us being loud, ‘brash’ Americans.”
“Well yeah, there’s that, but even with that caveat, you’re another thing entirely. Nate’s just looking out for you, and all of us. Consider him your out-of-body conscience.” God knew my internal one was fucked.
“Yeah, well, I don’t need another conscience.” Lies. “I just need to be left alone to do my fucking job.”