Grumpy Romance : A Romantic Comedy (Billionaire Dads)

KENYA

I give squinty eyes to the laptop, staring at all the numbers and trying to make sense of it.

None of the formulas compute.

I moan pathetically.

It’s one thing to act tough in front of the Grump That Stole Happiness. He’s a raging egomaniac with a gorgeous face and rippling muscles. I’m biologically programmed to want him as much as I wish to knock him down a peg or two.

But it’s another thing entirely to get thrown off the deep-end on my first day.

Yesterday doesn’t count. It was basically running from a shouting match with Holland Alistair to a Siberian cold-shoulder with the store managers.

What a day, right?

After another cry session in Sunny’s couch last night, I’m back for Round Two.

Oh man.

I hope today is better than yesterday.

Fine Industries is bustling this morning. Harried employees are tucked into cubicles, focused on their tasks. No one’s been particularly friendly. Most of them don’t know why I’m here since I’m technically working for Belle’s Beauty.

They don’t know that Alistair wants me under his watchful eyes. Eyes that cut through me like a butcher knife when we happened to bump into each other this morning.

I returned the scowl in full before remembering that I’m to ‘check my sass at the door’. Or something to that effect. His condescending words tend to get translated into much harsher language in my head.

The prick.

He better not ask me to make his coffee because I for sure am spitting in it.

But back to the numbers.

I stare at the computer screen, my head throbbing while I try to make sense of all the columns and tabs. I’m not a stranger to a spreadsheet. I know why I’m staring at these numbers.

But I don’t know what they mean

There’s a reason I chose Literature as my college major. My right brain is probably oversized because it gets the most exercise. My left brain—the one that’s supposed to be analytical and information driven—is probably the size of an expired gumdrop.

I sigh heavily and slump over the Fine Industries assigned computer. It’s the most expensive model out right now. I don’t want to know how much it cost to have one sitting on everybody’s desk.

My phone pings with a message.

Sasha: Please call me, Kenya.

Sasha: I’m sorry.

Sasha: I need to talk to you.

I ignore those like I have all the others, but my sister is relentless. I put the phone on silent and concentrate on the numbers. Maybe if I stare and stare, they’ll eventually make sense.

In the corner of my eye, I notice a sudden flurry of activity. At first, it’s just background noise. Pieces of paper stuffed into organizer bins. Chips and cookie crumbs brushed off white desks. Trash in garbage cans. Picture frames arranged. Crocs exchanged for dress shoes and heels.

I lift my head, wondering why everyone is bustling around like an unspoken game of musical chairs.

Am I missing something?

When I see McGrump himself turning the bend, I finally understand.

My heart jumps out of my chest and I haul my chair close to the table. Staring at the computer with narrowed eyes, I type nonsense into the spreadsheet.

“Mr. Alistair.”

“Good morning.”

“Morning, sir.”

Greetings pop out in tandem. Every eye follows Alistair’s trek through the office. He doesn’t respond to anyone, clearly on a mission.

I pity the employee on the receiving end of that skewer gaze.

Please walk past me. Please. Please.

My prayers go unanswered because the gorgeous prick stops in front of my desk and gives me a look so dark I might as well dig a hole and bury myself in it.

Fingers freezing on the keyboard, I swallow hard and turn my chair to look up at him. He’s sans-entourage today. Usually, Ezekiel would be on his tail, ready to smooth all the ruffled feathers Alistair leaves in his wake.

Did he ax his own right-hand man?

I shake the thought from my head. Alistair wouldn’t be that stupid. Who in their right mind would work with him if he got rid of Ezekiel?

Dark shadows pull through the room when Alistair looms over my desk. Lightning charges out of his stunning hazel eyes. They’re more green than brown right now, swimming emerald seas with a little too much mud.

Everyone is watching me. I can feel my pulse thrumming all the way down in my toes. It’s pretty obvious that being singled out by the world’s grumpiest boss is not a good thing.

“My office. Now.”

My eyes dart away from his. Maybe if I pretend I didn’t hear, he’ll go away?

“Now, Miss Jones.”

I wince. Who does he think he’s talking to?

“Can I help you, Mr. Alistair?” I gesture to the desk, silently indicating that I’m not moving.

The room goes silent.

I hear someone whimpering on my behalf.

Fear trips down my spine, but I force my chin up and pretend that I’m not sweating out seventy percent of the water in my body.

Alistair’s back stiffens. He turns slowly, his jaw clenching. “Did I not make myself clear yesterday?”

Which part of yesterday’s conversation is he referring to? The part where he said ‘when you walk through that door, leave your opinions, your thoughts, and your dignity behind’? Because I’m definitely not subscribing to that advice.

“Walking out here to collect you is already a waste of my time.” His voice remains even, but his tone is like flames against my back.

I hate him.

I hate him with every breath in my body.

“You should have called…” I tip my cell phone up. To my surprise, there are missed calls from an unknown number.

His, I presume.

Okay. My bad.

I meet his stare head-on because something deep inside won’t allow me to cower to this man.

“I’ll be sure to check my company email more often.” I lift my phone. “But I had no understanding that I was expected to run when you called.”

His eyebrows fall into thick, black lines and I know I messed up. Royally.

“Miss Jones, don’t make me repeat myself.” He turns and marches down the hallway.

I rise slowly. My limbs are as heavy as lead.

I’ve only been called to the principal’s office once in my life. Because of my part-time job, I was late to school, missed assignments and did poorly on tests. When my homeroom teacher announced that the principal wanted to see me, it shocked the class and made my pride shrivel up and die.

Everyone knew me as the good girl.

I don’t get called out.

Not unless it’s for an accolade.

My steps are hesitant. Shuffling behind Holland Alistair is way, way worse than my high school trek to the principal’s office.

My co-workers are reluctant spectators. They offer looks of pity mixed with silent sighs. They’re not the sacrificial lamb today and they’re happy about it. Where’s the solidarity?

My fingers slip over my phone as sweat makes my hands clammy. I have three missed calls from Alistair’s number. Each try must have sent my boss flying over the edge.

Damage control, Kenya.

I make my case as soon as we’re in his office. Locking the door behind me, I fly toward his desk. “I can explain.”

He takes a seat and looks at me through stony, hazel eyes. “Open the door.”

“What?”

He points to the entrance. “The door.”

My lips tighten in annoyance. I will never get used to that condescending tone of his. Stomping over to the door, I wrench it open. Happy?

He points to the chair. No good morning. No ‘how’s your day going?’ Nothing.

It’s not like I expect him to make small talk, but pointing at the chair like I’m a dog who moves on his command is not going to work.

I remain standing. “What would you like to discuss?”

He doesn’t press me to sit. Instead, he opens a binder and flips through it. I watch him, hating myself for noticing how good he looks with glasses on. They perch on the edge of his straight nose, softening his otherwise deadly charisma.

He’s wearing a simple button-down with the sleeves rolled up at the cuffs. They expose his strong forearms and the thick veins running down to giant hands.

It really, really sucks that he’s so gorgeous.

I can’t even hate him in peace.

“Did you receive the files on the Yazmite location?”

“Yes, I did.” I clasp my hands together.

He glances up impatiently as if he expects more.

“I’m still getting acquainted with the numbers.”

“Still getting acquainted?” He flings his glasses off his nose carelessly. I wince on the spectacle’s behalf. He could probably afford to buy a million of those, but he should still treat his eyewear with care.

“Yesterday was about getting the lay of the land. I wanted a feel of the way they do things.”

He accepts the answer with a gruff nod. “What was your assessment?”

“I found that the managers were…” I think of their scowling faces when I walked in, “less than cooperative, so I don’t have any concrete thoughts. Since it was my first time meeting with them, I observed their system and made some notes.”

“And?”

“I’d like to have a proper conversation with them before I implement any changes. That’s why, today, I plan to hold a meeting with them.”

For the first time, the evil laser beam screaming from his eyes softens. “A meeting? To discuss what?”

“What they think the problems are.”

“We have our own reports,” he points out.

“I saw that.”

“And?”

“And what?”

His eyes narrow again. “The reports have all the information you need to know. I don’t require further investigation. I need solutions.”

“The answers sent in to corporate are often prettied up by management. They don’t want you to know how bad things are in case you blame them for the issues. That lack of trust is what makes those reports undependable. How can I solve something based on only half the truth?”

“You’re overthinking this. The bottom line is they’re not making money.”

“Yes, and you as the owner, are focused on that. But while making money is the end goal for the company, it’s just a byproduct for the employees.”

“And how do you plan to fix that?”

“I don’t know yet.” I can’t keep the annoyance from my tone.

His lips disappear into his mouth.

My fingers are about to snap from how hard I’m clutching my fists. It’s clear that we rub each other the wrong way, but he’s still my boss. I agreed to be here and I want to do a good job.

I’ve been working since I was in high school and I haven’t taken a single break since. I might not have the education, but I have more than enough experience.

“You hired me for your own reasons,” I watch him carefully and he doesn’t even blink, “but the moment you handed the reins over to someone like me, it must mean that you’re willing to try something new.”

He stares at me, processing everything I’m saying.

“I know the management companies you hired have approached the problem from a different perspective. They obviously didn’t do a good job or you wouldn’t be taking such desperate measures. Although I believe in data as much as everyone else, I think talking to the managers firsthand will give me a better understanding of what the real problem is.”

“I want a report written by the end of the day.”

“Fine.”

“I also want a proposal backed by data as well as a written assessment of future growth projections.”

“I have a meeting today.”

“I’m aware,” he says coldly.

Frustration bubbles in my gut. Does he expect me to skip lunch and work until midnight?

“Is there a problem, Miss Jones?” He shoots me a pointed look.

I’m really starting to believe he hired me just to exact his revenge. My tongue burns with the need to tell him off, but he’s spared by a knock at the door.

Ezekiel eases the door open and nods at me.

“You’re back,” Alistair says, picking up a document and inspecting it.

Ezekiel sets a stack of folders on the desk. “These are the original patent documentation as requested. Our lawyers sent the cease and desist letter to the address we discussed.”

“Thank you.” Alistair points in my direction without glancing up. “See her out.”

“I can walk on my own,” I snap.

His head whips up. “You tend to do exactly what you want, Miss Jones. I can never predict when you’ll follow directions.”

I’m going to punch his face.

One day.

Maybe soon.

My hand will take control and it’ll ram right into his perfect jaw.

Ezekiel turns to me. “Miss Jones, do you need any assistance setting up your computer? You went straight to the store yesterday, and I didn’t have a chance to get you familiar with the system.”

My scowl eases. “Do you have time now? I would really appreciate it.”

“Let’s go.” He gestures to the door.

Eager to escape Holland Alistair’s presence, I stomp out of his lux office. For all the fancy amenities in there, he might as well be in a dark dungeon with the skulls and bones of his victims littered everywhere. It would suit him better.

Ezekiel gives me a warm smile. “He’s not as gruff as he seems.”

I stare at the executive assistant, wondering if the old man has been turned. Maybe his brain is sitting in Alistair’s evil lair right now, bouncing around in a jar of brain juice.

“Tell me the truth. Did he hire me just to punish me for what happened at Belle’s Beauty?” My hands slam against my hips. “It’s so obvious he has it out for me.”

“Alistair is not that petty.” Ezekiel gestures to his desk. It’s a nice piece of furniture that’s set up just outside of the Grump’s office. “You can have a seat.”

I fall into the soft chair. “You’re right. ‘Petty’ is too tame a word for what he is. Monster is probably better suited.” I realize what I’ve said and freeze. It’s probably not a good idea to go badmouthing the boss to the only co-worker who bothers to speak to me.

Thankfully, Ezekiel chuckles. Which tells me he has a much better sense of humor than his employer.

“He’s demanding. That’s undeniable. I understand why it can get frustrating for anyone who isn’t used to his style of leadership.”

“There’s a ‘but’ coming, isn’t there?” I groan.

Ezekiel’s straight-laced expression shifts to a softer one. “He’s juggling two very big companies and he doesn’t want to see either of them fail. It’s why he walks around with that hard exterior. He has no time to coddle anyone. One mistake and all the plates he’s spinning will crash. All the people who depend on his company will suffer. It’s a lot to put on a thirty-two year old’s shoulders.”

“He can quit.”

“’Quit’ is not in his vocabulary. Once he puts his mind to something, he’ll tear himself apart trying to get it done.”

“He’ll tear us apart too,” I mumble.

Ezekiel laughs again. “He might.”

“I’m surprised he has anyone who’d take up for him when he’s not around,” I say.

“Don’t let the snapping and growling fool you. Alistair is feeling a lot of pressure right now. It was a hard decision to keep Belle’s Beauty open after…”

My eyes seek his out when he snaps his mouth shut. “After what?”

“Nothing.” He opens his laptop and swivels it to face me. “The important thing is that he believes in you and your abilities.”

“Didn’t we establish that I’m here as punishment?”

“Everything Alistair does is calculated for the good of the company. Nothing matters to him more than seeing Belle’s Beauty thrive.”

“Is that why no management company wants to work with him?” The reports I’ve been thumbing through told the frustrations of each management team. There were at least five different logos on the binders. And I haven’t gotten through all the files yet.

“Yes, he’s been through a lot of management companies, but it’s only because he has high expectations and they couldn’t meet them. I assure you, if you take the time to catch his vision, he’d have no choice but to acknowledge you.”

I fold my arms over my chest, picking apart everything Ezekiel said. One approval from the guy who works closest to Alistair is not enough to change my mind about his wicked ways.

“It’s alright if you don’t believe me. In fact, I admire that. I think you have exactly what it takes to turn things around.”

“You do?” I lean forward. After being torn down by Alistair, any drop of encouragement is like a bottle of water to a dying man.

“Professionalism is his weapon. It takes a special kind of person to rattle him. You do.” Ezekiel taps something on his computer and brings up the spreadsheets that were giving me a headache out in my cubicle. “Those management companies didn’t stick around long enough because they couldn’t work with him. The constant stops and starts is why Belle’s Beauty hasn’t been able to grow. If you can stick it out, you’ll be leagues ahead of them.”

“That’s if I can make it. It’s my second day and I’ve already gotten on his bad side.” I sigh loudly. “Although it feels like he only has bad sides.”

“Mr. Alistair is fair, and he rewards good work. I’ve never met an employer who’s as generous as he is. If you do well, he’ll respect you. It’s really that simple.”

I think about the load of work he assigned me. “It feels like he’s purposely trying to keep me from doing well.”

“Then fight back. That spunk of yours comes from somewhere, doesn’t it?”

I lift my head. “Beat him at his own game?”

“No one else could do it. They ran when it got tough. You didn’t. From the moment you met him, you were fighting. That’s why you’re here.” He tips his chin at me. “So what are you going to do about it?”

It feels like a pep talk from a boxing coach. I’m on the mat, bleeding all over my body, but the adrenaline rush is enough to push me back into the ring.

Ezekiel pats my shoulder warmly. Holland Alistair has someone willing to paint him in nicer colors. I don’t see myself doing that. Ever. But I want that elusive prize of his respect. Not because I’m in need of his approval but because I want him to eat his words. I want to show him he was wrong to toy with me.

My personal life is going to hell and everything I touch keeps spiraling out of my control. I might not be able to face my sister, and I still haven’t gotten my things out of Drake’s apartment, but I can take the bull by the horns at work.

It’s going to cost me a few rounds with the dragon, but I’m ready.

Let’s get the Yazmite store back in order.

I take the bus to the high-end shopping center, my notebook filled with scribbles from Ezekiel’s crash course in business management.

He knows how to break things down in a digestible manner and I plan to go home and study everything I learned today until it becomes second nature.

Just because I’ve graduated, it doesn’t mean I’ve stopped studying.

“Excuse me. Sorry.” I weave through the crowds hustling into the mall.

This late in the afternoon, the shopping center is filled with office workers looking to grab a quick bite before heading back to work.

I haul my purse higher on my shoulder and take the escalator to Belle’s Beauty.

According to the files Ezekiel provided this morning, the Yazmite location is the oldest in the company. There are only three locations completely dedicated to Belle’s Beauty products.

The other stores sell products on contract. The problem with that strategy is Belle’s Beauty has to compete with a hundred other skin care lines.

Competing for shelf space can be ruthless. Belle’s Beauty isn’t a household name yet and paying for premier space isn’t just about money. Those spots are reserved for bigger brands that can draw a crowd.

Since I’m more acquainted with that type of consignment-based production, it gives me an interesting perspective on the Yazmite store’s downward spiral.

Surely, if Belle’s Beauty is selling well in general makeup stores, an entire space dedicated to the company products should be doing better, right?

At least, that’s what Holland Alistair expects.

I step into the store and one of the clerks walks up to me. “Hello there. Welcome to Belle’s Beauty. Can I help you?”

“Yeah, um…” I stare at her, unable to place her face. I stopped by yesterday and met everyone, but I didn’t see her. “I’m sorry. Were you working yesterday? I don’t recognize you.”

Her big brown eyes get wide. “Oh, I was hired yesterday.”

“You were hired yesterday?”

She nods.

My eyebrows pull together. There was no discussion about firing anyone when I visited. “Did someone quit?”

“Uh…” She glances around as if she’s not sure she should be discussing this with a customer.

“Oh, I’m Kenya Jones. I’m the executive assistant in charge of Belle’s Beauty.” I don’t have a business card, so I just show her my company ID.

Her eyes get wide. “You’re in charge?”

“I work directly for Mr. Alistair.” My smile is awkward. “I look young, right?”

“No, it’s just… they said the new assistant was some airhead who’s probably sleeping with the boss—” She gasps and slaps a hand over her mouth. “I’m so sorry.”

My eyes shift around the store as I try to hide my smile. It’s nice to know what the managers really think of me. An airhead, huh? I guess that’s a compliment. Most people look at me and assume I’m a nerd.

Which I am.

A proud one.

But that part about screwing Alistair? If only she knew how much Holland Alistair loathes me. She wouldn’t jump to such ridiculous conclusions. That man would rather run me over with a truck than invite me to his bed.

Not that I want to be in his bed anyway.

Okay, maybe I wouldn’t mind seeing him shirtless because come on, that would be glorious, but Holland Alistair topless is as far as I’ll go!

“Miss Jones.” One of the managers hustles toward me. She’s a big-boned woman with fair skin, black hair tied into a bun and bright red lips. “I didn’t expect you back so soon.”

“I said we were having a meeting today.”

“Well, you see. We’re a little busy right now.”

I glance around at the empty store. There are throngs of people downstairs. Shoppers are also passing up and down in front of the location, but none of them have stopped in Belle’s Beauty.

She gives me a condescending smile. “I’m afraid we’ll have to reschedule.”

“No, we’re not.”

Her eyes widen. She didn’t expect me to be firm. Understandable. I don’t present myself as coldly as Holland Alistair does.

I nod to the new clerk but keep my eyes on the manager. “What happened after I left yesterday?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she says sourly.

“That’s fine. I can jog your memory if need be. We’ll have our managers meeting in the lounge.”

“Why?”

“Why the lounge or why the meeting?”

“Why the meeting?”

I stop and turn around. “Because I asked you. Nicely.”

She stares me down.

I glare right back. Sure, she might be older than me, but it doesn’t matter. Holland Alistair is breathing down my neck and I have something to prove. That means I’m on business from day one.

I wait for her to back down first.

She does, her gaze squirreling away from mine. “We’ll be there.”

I nod.

After settling my things in the lounge, I notice the door opening and all the employees walking in.

My eyes widen. “I didn’t ask to meet with the clerks. Only the management.”

“They need to hear whatever you have to say too,” the head manager snaps at me.

I frown, trying not to let my annoyance show. They’re employees. Just like me. It’s not that I’m better than them. In fact, they’re probably more knowledgeable about this space than me, but we need to at least respect each other before any progress can be made.

“I only asked for the management team,” I repeat myself clearly, in case she didn’t understand the first time.

“And I believe that it’s imperative for the rest of them to be here as well.”

My fuse gets a little shorter. I stare her down. “I know that I look small and smiley, but please don’t misinterpret that as a weakness. I know when to be sweet and when to flip the switch.” Keeping my tone light, I tilt my head. “Please don’t let me bring that other side out this early on in our cooperation. I’d really like to keep things pleasant.”

She stands her ground, glaring at me without moving an inch.

“If you insist on being stubborn, I can make a call to HQ right now.” I lift my phone like a robber announcing he has a bomb. “And you can take up any complaints with Mr. Alistair himself.”

I’m sweating beneath Sunny’s yellow jacket. She lent me the piece since I don’t have any clothes fancy enough to fit in at Fine Industries.

The manager licks her lips and stares at the phone. I’m afraid she’ll call my bluff, but she doesn’t. Shoulders slumped, she gestures for the clerks to return outside.

I let out a giant breath, my heart still hammering my ribs. “Please sit down.”

The sound of chairs scraping the tiles is all that breaks the silence. I pull my fingers beneath the table and squeeze my hands together.

“First, I’d like to know why an employee left yesterday,” I say.

The head manager stares straight ahead with an expression of pure annoyance on her face. “She wasn’t a good worker anyway.”

“I don’t understand. All the clerks seemed to be in high spirits when I introduced myself yesterday.”

“That’s because you’re basically one of them,” someone mumbles.

I hold my tongue and pretend not to hear.

The head manager leans back and throws an arm over her chair. Getting more and more comfortable, she motions to me. “It’s hard for kids these days to understand the value of hard work. They just want to play on their phones and lazy around.” Her eyes slide over my body. “Or they want to sleep their way to the top.”

The other two managers murmur their agreement.

I ignore the dig because it’s pointless gossip. “Let’s say the kids are lazy. What are you doing when those workers are on the phone?”

Her eyes widen, but it only lasts a second. She glances away as if my words mean nothing.

I drum my fingers on the table. “You all know the store is doing poorly. It’s why I’m here.” My eyes dart to the other managers. “In your opinion, what is the biggest problem?”

“The new hires.”

“What about them?”

“They never stay long enough to make a difference.”

I bob my head. “I did notice the turnover rate was high.”

“It’s ‘cause nobody wants to work anymore. Kids these days are too privileged. Too many participation trophies. It’s softened them.”

I don’t buy it. Clerks at this store keep leaving. It can’t be because all of them are lazy and irresponsible. When I was working, I met my share of disinterested co-workers, but it was mostly because the manager didn’t care either.

“Okay. The new hires,” I say, going along with them. “What other problems are you facing?”

The head manager folds her arms over her chest. “Aren’t they paying you to tell us what’s wrong?”

“No.” There’s a little more heat in my voice because she’s getting on my nerves. “ I want you to figure it out.”

“Me?”

“Yes. You gave me one reason.” I gesture with my hands. “Every single person who walks through those doors and applies for a position is lazy. The clerks are the biggest problem. Fine. What else?”

They exchange looks.

Good.

I want them to hear my sarcasm.

One of the other managers pipes up. “We don’t have a proper system in place.”

The other managers glare at her.

She shrugs. “It’s true.”

“That’s good. A sales system. What do you think you should do to improve that?”

They go quiet.

I let the silence stretch. The head manager is pouting, but it’s the kind of petulance I want to see. They’re not idiots. It’s plain to them that they can’t throw blame at the entry level workers and skate off into the sunset.

Pressing them, I insist. “What’s wrong with the sales system?”

“I don’t think we’re doing anything wrong.”

I try not to roll my eyes. Maybe that was acceptable to the management teams that came before me. A bunch of business snobs might be more eager to jump on the ‘blame the little guy’ train. But since I am still technically a little guy, I’m not drunk on arrogance.

I’ve been in many positions where the management was the lazy, irresponsible party. Even if they weren’t, if we had a good manager, the store thrived. With a bad manager, no matter how good the employees were, things always fell apart.

I rise from the table and walk as I speak. “‘The wife is the mirror of the husband’. I read that in a book somewhere.”

They look at me like I’m crazy.

I keep going anyway. “This doesn’t just apply to marriages but to all kinds of relationships. The connection between a manager and the employees is like a mirror. And what the workers are reflecting is telling me they’d rather be anywhere in the world than with you.”

Huffs of outrage pop around the table, but no one speaks.

“While you might be getting a steady paycheck, the part-time workers are not. They don’t have to stay here. They didn’t sign a contract.” I pull my hands behind my back. “But you need them. We need them. They’re an important part of the conversation and they need to have a voice.”

“So why aren’t they here?” The head manager glares at me. “When I tried to bring them in, you kicked them out!”

“Because I’m not the one who needs to collaborate with them.”

She goes quiet.

“You said you don’t have a proper system, so make one.” I press my palms against the table and lean over. “Come together with your staff, put forward your best tactics and implement them.”

She rolls her eyes. “Fine.”

“Great. We’re on the same page. I’d like you to have that meeting today and then implement the changes. Evaluate those tactics in the next three days and send me a report.”

“What do you mean send you a report?”

I ignore her outburst. “I’ve seen the files from the previous management companies. Things have gotten bad because communication is breaking down right at this critical point.” I gesture to the managers. “Another problem is that sales tactics get handed down from the sales team, but they don’t always fit. One line on a sheet of paper sometimes can’t be translated in real life.” I know. I’ve seen some random crap thrown at me while I was a clerk. Those initiatives were clearly the work of pencil pushers trying to look relevant with no idea how grass-roots sales works. “The reports are to evaluate whether those tactics are effective. It’s also to have a proper record so we can track their value over time.”

The managers squirm in their seats.

“One more thing.” I straighten. “We only tackled two problems today, but I’m sure you can find some more. I’m willing to listen to whatever other issues you have and I’m also willing to work with you to find a solution.” I glance at each of them. “I have your back.”

Someone huffs. “Yeah right.”

“We’re all working together for the same goal. We’re on the same team. And the better you do, the better I do.”

The head manager still looks annoyed, but the other two seem a bit more encouraged. I don’t know if it’s their first time dealing with a sales manager like me, but at least they’re not protesting.

I check my watch and nod. “That’s it.”

“That’s it?” The head manager raises an eyebrow.

“Yes.” I smile. “Oh, I do have one more thing. I’ve really gotten into this online series about leadership and vision. I’ll make a group chat and send you a link. Study it and send me some ideas for the store based on the lessons.”

“You’re giving us homework?” The head manager bursts out laughing.

I don’t join in.

Neither do the other two.

“What exactly are you being paid to do?” I ask calmly.

She scowls at me. “To manage this store.”

“Which means what?” I tilt my head. “Barking orders at people?”

Her eyes shift away.

“You’re being paid more than those store clerks, not because you’re better than them but because you’re supposed to be thinking differently than them.” I point to my temple. “You’re leading this place. Now, I don’t know all the answers, but that’s why we study. To learn.”

She purses her lips, visibly annoyed.

As silence washes over the room, my phone buzzes with a call.

It’s Felice.

I quickly pick up my purse because I’ve done more than enough for one morning. If I push the managers any more, it’ll be too much.

Stepping briskly out of the store, I place the phone to my ear. “Hey, Felice.”

“Why aren’t you picking up your sister’s calls?” she shrieks.

My eyes widen. I pull the phone away from my face and stare at it in shock. Is she for real right now?

“Felice, I don’t know what Sasha told you but—”

“She’s crying every night, Kenya. You’re breaking her heart.”

My steps slow. “What about what she did to break mine?”

“Meet up with her. Let her explain. You can’t keep avoiding her. It’s not good for her health.”

That guilt-tipped arrow lands right where it’s supposed to.

“I’ll think about it,” I say.

And then I hang up.