A/N: Three years later. Wow. Your comments have caused me to fall back into this story. No excuses here; let's get on with it!
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"I didn't ruin the barbeque, did I?"
"No," Grayson chuckles. I hear beeping on his end of the line. "I just wish I were there before things got out of hand."
I haven't moved from my bed since I woke up two hours ago. At 11.
Grayson was calling to invite me to lunch, but I told him I'd rather stay inside. According to his knowledge, Clay and I were just in a disagreement, and I had called the cops because Clay was drunk and threatening me.
I think Jiao is the one who spread that story through the crowd. She left for California this morning. I wish I'd seen her beforehand.
"I'll be the office gossip for a while," I groan. My alarm clock taunts me with "1:13pm", and I just stare at it. I don't feel like doing anything today. Or tomorrow.
"Yeah, yeah. But everyone who knows Clay knows he's a drunk. It was only a matter of time before something like that happened. I'm sorry you got caught in the middle of it. He's an asshole, really."
"Mhmm," I mumble. The phone is silent for a second. "We could run later today, if you want. I think I'll be feeling better by then."
"Yeah. Sorry that whole thing happened, Zeke. Really let me know if you need anything. Or anyone to talk to. Or just company, you know?"
I smile a little. "Thanks."
"Anytime."
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I had to prepare myself for about an hour for the looks I'd get when I walked into the office on Monday. Two people asked if I was alright, one guy mumbled about "that asshole Clay Edgar", the rest just gave really sympathetic smiles.
Gabriel and I haven't talked besides a few exchanged text messages. I tried not to let that stress me out. I already have to have a meeting with HR, and some guy who works over Clay and me—a guy who isn't Grayson or Gabe—to discuss the events of the barbeque. Oh, and Clay will be in the room.
The sandwich I brought is just texture in my mouth. In five minutes, I'm heading upstairs to confront one awful part of my life. By myself.
Clay sits on one side of the table with someone to his right—maybe his lawyer—and there are two HR reps that I recognize. There's a chair for me, opposite Clay. There's a projector set up in the middle of the table, and it's turned on. I wonder—
"I don't have a lot of time," comes Gabriel's voice from the speaker, "—only about thirty minutes, actually. Make this quick." Soon enough, he sits in front of his laptop.
My heart skips a beat and I feel myself flush but I don't care. I feel this tingling on the back of my neck. All the way in California and he still is right with me.
"Glad you were able to join us, Mr. Ortega. This process will go by much more smoothly with you in the mix," one of the HR reps says. He straightens out a folder and clears his throat. "Everyone present has been fully informed of the situation at hand."
"Yes," Gabriel says.
"Ezekiel Hartigan has informed Human Resources that he will not be pressing any legal charges against Clay Edgar."
"No?" Gabriel asks.
"No, Sir," I respond. Gabriel shakes his head with a sigh. "Signed off on everything."
"Alright well—" Gabe checks his phone. "Well, we're obviously terminating Edgar." The room is silent. Gabe looks into the camera. "Hello?"
"My client is being... fired?" Clay's lawyer asks. Gabe rolls his eyes. "Mr. Ortega—with all due respect—one incident in the course of 8 years warrants termination? That seems arbitrary."
"In what way? Just weeks ago, we presented the company's no tolerance policy on sexual harassment, your client chose to ignore it, chose to abuse an employee—and from what I understand this is NOT the first time." The room is silent again. "Is this the first time Clay Edgar has assaulted Zeke Hartigan, Patty, or am I just making things up?" Gabe asks one of the HR reps. He's obviously still pissed. I hope he doesn't blow this.
"Reports from both Mr. Hartigan and Mr. Edgar are consistent in the fact that Friday's incident was not the first time Edgar had made unwanted sexual advances toward Hartigan," Patricia reads directly from the file.
Clay's lawyer scoffs. "My client has an obvious alcohol consumption issue, and it is discriminatory to disregard—"
"You do realize you are fortunate that Mr. Hartigan is not bestowing ANY legal action upon your client, correct? Not even a RESTRAINING ORDER. With your history of domestic disturbance, multiple DUI's, a battery charge, public intoxication—you do realize you are VERY fortunate that this company is JUST NOW letting you go, Mr. Edgar? And given your work performance it probably should have been done a long time ago. This is your own undoing. OrtegaTech Corporate is happy to provide services to reduce your alcohol consumption."
Gabriel doesn't even have to be in a room to control it. Is he being harsh? Yeah, a little. But Clay messed with both me and Jiao. And he's a shithead.
"Anything else that needs to be said?"
Clay's lawyer shrugs. "I was under the impression we were discussing options for a more temporary punishment."
"Ha! Why are you here? We are not. Good day to you all."
And with that, the call goes black.
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Gabe even sent HR a list of rehabs for Clay within two minutes of leaving the meeting.
At two o'clock, Clay's things have been removed from his office.