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Authors: Andrea Miller
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over the position of public relations manager for you, temporarily, I took the libertyof reviewing your employment contract as well as your sponsorship agreements.”
Ryan raises his eyebrows with light amusement. “And…?”
“It seems that you have gotten a tad bit confused about your job description,” I say matter-of-factly.
“And how’s that?” Ryan cracks.
“I would like to remind you that you only have two jobs to do.” I hold up two fingers to accentuate my statement. I start my list. “Number one, drive your race car.” There is an audible gasp in the room, but my eyes do not leave his. His trademark smirk has been replaced by a lost look. I have embarrassed him, maybe. “And number two, abide by your sponsorship agreements.”
My blood pressure accelerates as I continue my rant. “It is my job to make sure that number two is accomplished. Therefore, you stick to number one, and I will make sure job number two is done correctly. And I can do my job a helluva lot better if you will act like an adult, for God’s sake!” I add to hasten my point. “Frankly,
we
…” I hesitate to look around the room for backup, but of course, no one will meet me gaze. “
We
are all sick and tired of your arrogant, condescending bullshit!”
Ryan shifts in his chair like he is about to say something, but remains silent. He looks as though steam is about to unload from his ears. Whitney 2. Ryan 0.
“According to these contracts, Ryan, you have directly violated some aspect of each one of your commitments and responsibilities. Why your sponsors, let alone your management, put up with this behavior is beyond me.”
Ryan jumps up from his chair, then slams his fist down on the table. “Because I am Ryan
fucking
Carter, that’s why.”
I cringe, recoil, and then reload. “Well, Ryan
fucking
Carter, you need to get your shit together, or you won’t have a race car to drive at all!” I shout. “Every single one of your sponsors has a right to pull the rug out from under you right this very second because you are too damned concerned with that incredibly large chip on your shoulder.”
A few snickers go up from the other employees who are witnessing my meltdown in the boardroom. I continue to ignore these outbursts because Ryan and I are deadlocked in a heated stare. Our intense standoff is broken by the sound of a small, one-person round of applause. We both turn to search the back of the boardroom to find our enthusiast.
As I look, I catch a glance at Jerri. Her face is deathly pale with a shocked look of horror. A man in what appears to be his midfifties glides effortlessly over to Jerri and me. He is dressed simply in jeans, plain white T-shirt, and work boots.
Jerri calmly whispers, “Garrett!”
Oh no! Oh shit!
It’s Ryan’s dad, the owner of GCR Racing. My face drops, no doubt mirroring Jerri’s look of horror, I’m sure of it. I don’t take my eyes off Mr. Carter, but I can hear the pleasure in Ryan’s voice when he makes a throaty, mocking “hmmmm” sound. The opposing team is finally on the scoreboard.
I take a step back, defeated. What have I done? How long has he been standing there? I continue to watch the exchange between Garrett and Jerri. He greets her fondly. She smiles and nods, although her face is still horribly pale.
Garrett turns his attention back to me. “Well, Miss…” He trails off, realizing he doesn’t know my name.
“Pa-Parker,” I stammer. Without even looking at Ryan, I know he is enjoying this.
Bastard!
“That was quite a speech, Miss Parker,” he continues. “I’m Garrett Carter, by the way.”
I smile and nod as I shakily take his proffered hand. I’m not sure what to say. Clearly I have said enough, so I stay silent.
Garrett turns back to face his wayward son. “Now, Ryan…as Miss Parker so eloquently put it”—he motions to me with a sideways glance—“you really
do
need to get your shit together.”
Ryan’s face falls flat in a shocked
Ryan raises his eyebrows with light amusement. “And…?”
“It seems that you have gotten a tad bit confused about your job description,” I say matter-of-factly.
“And how’s that?” Ryan cracks.
“I would like to remind you that you only have two jobs to do.” I hold up two fingers to accentuate my statement. I start my list. “Number one, drive your race car.” There is an audible gasp in the room, but my eyes do not leave his. His trademark smirk has been replaced by a lost look. I have embarrassed him, maybe. “And number two, abide by your sponsorship agreements.”
My blood pressure accelerates as I continue my rant. “It is my job to make sure that number two is accomplished. Therefore, you stick to number one, and I will make sure job number two is done correctly. And I can do my job a helluva lot better if you will act like an adult, for God’s sake!” I add to hasten my point. “Frankly,
we
…” I hesitate to look around the room for backup, but of course, no one will meet me gaze. “
We
are all sick and tired of your arrogant, condescending bullshit!”
Ryan shifts in his chair like he is about to say something, but remains silent. He looks as though steam is about to unload from his ears. Whitney 2. Ryan 0.
“According to these contracts, Ryan, you have directly violated some aspect of each one of your commitments and responsibilities. Why your sponsors, let alone your management, put up with this behavior is beyond me.”
Ryan jumps up from his chair, then slams his fist down on the table. “Because I am Ryan
fucking
Carter, that’s why.”
I cringe, recoil, and then reload. “Well, Ryan
fucking
Carter, you need to get your shit together, or you won’t have a race car to drive at all!” I shout. “Every single one of your sponsors has a right to pull the rug out from under you right this very second because you are too damned concerned with that incredibly large chip on your shoulder.”
A few snickers go up from the other employees who are witnessing my meltdown in the boardroom. I continue to ignore these outbursts because Ryan and I are deadlocked in a heated stare. Our intense standoff is broken by the sound of a small, one-person round of applause. We both turn to search the back of the boardroom to find our enthusiast.
As I look, I catch a glance at Jerri. Her face is deathly pale with a shocked look of horror. A man in what appears to be his midfifties glides effortlessly over to Jerri and me. He is dressed simply in jeans, plain white T-shirt, and work boots.
Jerri calmly whispers, “Garrett!”
Oh no! Oh shit!
It’s Ryan’s dad, the owner of GCR Racing. My face drops, no doubt mirroring Jerri’s look of horror, I’m sure of it. I don’t take my eyes off Mr. Carter, but I can hear the pleasure in Ryan’s voice when he makes a throaty, mocking “hmmmm” sound. The opposing team is finally on the scoreboard.
I take a step back, defeated. What have I done? How long has he been standing there? I continue to watch the exchange between Garrett and Jerri. He greets her fondly. She smiles and nods, although her face is still horribly pale.
Garrett turns his attention back to me. “Well, Miss…” He trails off, realizing he doesn’t know my name.
“Pa-Parker,” I stammer. Without even looking at Ryan, I know he is enjoying this.
Bastard!
“That was quite a speech, Miss Parker,” he continues. “I’m Garrett Carter, by the way.”
I smile and nod as I shakily take his proffered hand. I’m not sure what to say. Clearly I have said enough, so I stay silent.
Garrett turns back to face his wayward son. “Now, Ryan…as Miss Parker so eloquently put it”—he motions to me with a sideways glance—“you really
do
need to get your shit together.”
Ryan’s face falls flat in a shocked
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