–Me: Yeah. But I didn’t know how to talk about Dad with her.
Regret, annoyance and self-recrimination wage a battle in my mind. He’s one topic I avoid discussing with people. My brothers don’t count because they already know what kind of human being he is. But I don’t talk about him to my dates, to reporters, to anybody lured by the glamour of the movie business who is curious enough to ask. When I have to make conversation about him, I keep it superficial and vague, hiding all the dirty laundry. It’s just too humiliating to talk about his behavior.
My gut says I should go see Amy right now. But Mom’s text is holding me back. Perhaps giving Amy a day to think about what happened might be a good idea. And I can use the time to come up with a good in-person apology.
–Me: Amy, I heard Mom gave you a ride home. I’m sorry about the party, and I’ll talk with you on Monday.
I grimace as I stare at the text. “Sorry” seems so anemic. But I can’t think of anything better, so I hit send and pray I can find a way to make it up to her.
Chapter Forty-Six
Emmett
On Monday, I arrive at the office earlier than usual. I want to get some stuff out of the way before Amy shows up, so I can smooth things out with her. But I’m feeling optimistic. After turning things over in my head for several hours, I know exactly how to approach the situation.
The floor is empty except for a few folks who stayed and pulled all-nighters through the weekend. While my laptop boots, I grab myself a coffee and stop at Amy’s desk on my way back. It’s neatly arranged, with a calendar and a few manila folders with papers inside. Although the firm’s going paperless, a lot of associates, including Amy, still like to go over some items holding something in their hands.
Still not here. I run a finger along the top of her calendar, then go park myself at my desk with the door open so I can see when she comes in.
But until she does, it’s time to work. I double-click on Outlook, and the server vomits hundreds of emails into my inbox. I shake my head as I skim the subjects—almost seventy percent are either irrelevant or FYI only. People need to quit looping me in when I don’t need to be involved. I’m not reading their emails just because they land in my inbox.
But then there’s an email from Amy.
The subject says Notice. Nothing to indicate which portfolio company it’s about, which is generally how Amy labels all her emails. My heart thuds, pumping something acrid through me. I gulp down half the coffee. She must’ve been really pissed off about what happened yesterday to write an email and send it to me at one fifty-six a.m. She’s never sent me a personal email before. Knowing her, I can imagine her drafting multiple versions before settling on this one.
Come on. You know you deserve it. Man up, read it and make your apology even better.
Girding my loins, I click it open.
From: Amy Sand
To: Emmett Lasker
Subject: Notice
Sent: Today 1:56 a.m.
Dear Emmett,
Please accept this letter as formal notification that I am resigning from my position as Associate with GrantEm Capital. My last day will be two weeks from now.
Thank you so much for the opportunity to work in this position and grow in the past two years. I’ve greatly enjoyed being a part of bringing GrantEm’s revolutionary services and offerings to life.
I’ll be wrapping up all my duties and transferring them to another associate for transition.
I wish GrantEm Capital all future success.
Sincerely,
Amy Sand
Huh?
Formal notification? Last day? Transition?
Resigning?
This is one of the most generic resignation letters I’ve ever read. Hell, she didn’t even add the usual “Love to stay in touch.”