Clifton Knowles sat watching his friend/boss conduct the meeting. Clif’s disgust was evident, and while he didn’t relish calling Alex out in front of the rest of the staff, he believed it was the only way to take a stand against what was going on.
“I mean, for the past several weeks the front-page stories have been growing weaker and weaker,” Alex criticized, his stare narrowed and cold. “Our readers aren’t stupid. They can recognize a story that’s been regenerated to the point that it’s lost its appeal.”
“Alex—”
“I’m not done,” Alex informed Clif without so much as a look in his direction. “This mess has gone on for too long and I’m to blame for letting it go this far,” he said, his voice gaining volume. “You people have been slacking off ever since Casey started making waves with his coverage of the buyouts. But now even those stories are old news and neither Casey nor anyone else has come back with suitable follow-ups.”
Casey waited for a break in the speech, then cleared his throat. “With all due respect, Mr.—Alex, um, I think it’s obvious that the public disagrees,.” he pointed out softly. “Circulation’s up twelve percent over last month and fifteen percent over the month before.”
The table of reporters swallowed in unison. Some reached for water glasses or napkins. Everyone waited for the inevitable explosion.
Alex leaned back against his chair and fixed Casey with a humorless smirk. “Mr. Williams, you’re coming up on your first anniversary with us. I suggest you remember that, if you want to make it past that anniversary.”
“All right, Xan, that’s enough!” Clif finally snapped, slamming his palm to the table. “You’re takin’ this bull too far. These people do good work and you know it. They put out a prime read every week and I will not sit here mute and let you dispute that!”
Alex rolled his eyes, massaging his nose as he took deep breaths in an effort to quell his temper. It didn’t work and he stood so quickly, his heavy chair crashed to the floor
“Screw it,” he said and stormed out of the dining room.
The place was silent, everyone having overheard the conversation. Topaz’s eyes were focused on her former fiancé. She was stunned, having never witnessed him lose his temper in a business setting over a simple difference of opinion. She couldn’t help but remember her conversation with Clifton Knowles.
Topaz didn’t waste time after her lunch with the guys. She drove right to the Queen City Happening. Marci Evans, Alex’s assistant, stood behind her desk the moment she saw Topaz leaving the elevator.
“Ms. Emerson, this really isn’t—”
“I know, Marci. I know what’s going on. I know all about his mood.”
“Mood,” Marci muttered, “more like a metamorphosis. No one recognizes him anymore. One day he was just completely different.”
Topaz shuddered, smoothing both hands across the long, clinging sleeves of her black knit wrap dress. “I’ve got to at least try and talk to him.”
Marci shrugged and waved one hand toward the corridor. “Good luck,” she breathed.
Topaz paused outside the door to the office. She could hear Alex beyond the closed door. Whatever was being said, it wasn’t pretty. Still, she issued a tentative knock and jumped when he barked for her to come in. Bracing herself, Topaz twisted the knob and stepped inside the room. Alex was leaning against his desk, his back turned partially toward her. He was on the phone and he was yelling.
“What the hell good does it do to put out a paper if it’s not bein’ delivered, Rory?”
“There’re only a few routes in question, Alex, and we’re in the process of—”
“Only a few routes? You know how many papers we’re talkin’ about, man!” Alex asked the circulation manager.
“Alex, we’re in the process of making changes to improve the present delivery system and I—”
“Do you know how many times we’ve had to improve the present delivery system!” Alex thundered, his hand blushing crimson as it gripped the receiver. “Do these people have too much work on their hands?” he continued. “Is the work too hard on ’em?”
“No, Alex.”
“Because I can take care of that if it is,” Alex threatened, just as he glanced up to see Topaz standing a few feet away. “Get your department in order, Rory,” he advised, his blue-green stare raking Topaz’s body as he spoke. “Get it in order or I’ll have to do it,” he said, then slammed down the phone. “What are you doing here?” he was asking Topaz a second later.
Topaz cleared her throat, slipping a lock of hair behind her ear as she stepped closer. “I was hoping we could go somewhere and talk.”
“Talk about what?”
“Anything. You ... sound kind of stressed.”
A muscle danced along Alex’s jaw. “Stressed? How do you figure?”
Topaz responded with a short laugh, “It wasn’t so hard to figure after the conversation I just overheard.”
Alex shrugged, massaging his shoulder beneath his tanned shirt. “Business,” he said.
“That’s what has me worried,” Topaz admitted, feeling a rush of cold when his gaze narrowed toward her. “You dote on your staff, Alex. It’s almost like they can do no wrong with you, and now—”
“You know, I think you’re confusing the way I run my business with the way you ran yours. My staff knows this is a business and there’re things that have to be said to ensure that the business continues to thrive. Things don’t always go so smooth round here as they did at Top E.”
The remark caused Topaz to smart as though he had slapped her. “That was unfair,” she whispered.
“Oh? I see, and you comin’ up in here and telling me how to run my paper when you don’t even know what’s up, that’s fair?”
Topaz took a deep breath and forced herself not to meet his anger with her own. “Listen, Alex, all I’m saying is that this isn’t like you. You hardly ever raise you voice.”
“Damn it, Topaz, I’m handling business here!” he bellowed, rolling his eyes when he heard her gasp. “I don’t have time for this,” he muttered, focusing on the papers on his desk.
“I only thought we could talk about—”
“Hell, Topaz, I don’t want pity from you!”
