Chapter 1 - The Burger
Richard Voss had been at my house for forty-two minutes when he told me to get a real job.
I was at the grill, flipping burgers, when he came up behind me with a fresh beer in each hand. He held one out. I shook my head — I was working the grill, and I don't drink when I'm watching the kids.
"Claire tells me you work from home," he said, leaning against the deck rail like he owned it.
"That's right," I said. I flipped a burger. Jake, my five-year-old, was chasing our dog around the oak tree. Lily, eight, was helping Claire set out plates.
"Work from home," he repeated, and the way he said it made the hair on my neck go up. "What is that, exactly? Some kind of consulting thing?"
"Something like that."
He laughed — a big, open laugh that carried across the yard. A few guests turned their heads. "Something like that. I love that. You know, in my world, if you don't have an office and a building with your name on it, you're not really working. You're just... busy."
I didn't say anything. I moved the burgers to the upper rack.
Richard took a long pull of his beer. "Look, Dan, I'm going to be honest with you, because I like Claire. She's one of my best people. And I think she's carrying this family. A man should be carrying his own weight. You're what, thirty-seven? Prime earning years. And you're home, grilling burgers, while your wife climbs the ladder. That's not a life. That's a vacation."
The yard had gone quiet. I could feel Claire's eyes on me from the patio table.
"Richard," she said, standing up. "It's fine. We've talked about this —"
"No, Claire, it's not fine." He turned to face the whole party now, his voice booming. "I'm saying what everyone in this neighborhood is thinking. Your husband is a grown man in a basketball shirt, flipping hot dogs, while you're out there closing seven-figure deals. Somebody had to say it. Dan — get a real job. For your wife's sake. For your kids' sake."
Jake had stopped chasing the dog. He was staring at Richard, his little face confused. Lily had frozen mid-plate.
I set the spatula down on the side table. I wiped my hands on a towel.
"Richard," I said, quietly, "I think you've had enough to drink."
He laughed again. "There it is. The classic deflection. You can't defend it, so you —"
"Get off my deck," I said.
The words came out flat. Not yelling. Just final.
Richard blinked. For half a second, I thought he might push it. Then Claire was there, her hand on his arm, steering him toward the stairs. "Richard, let's get you some water. Diane is going to be here any minute —"
He let her lead him. I watched him go, then picked the spatula back up.
The rest of the party moved in that awkward, too-loud way people do when they've just seen something they can't unsee. Neighbors made small talk. The burgers got eaten. Nobody looked me in the eye.
By nine, everyone was gone. Claire and I cleaned up in silence. The kids were in bed. I stood at the kitchen sink, scrubbing the grill grate, when she finally spoke.
"I'm so sorry," she said. Her voice was small. "He's been under so much pressure at the firm, and he drank too much, and —"
"You don't have to apologize for him," I said.
"I know. But I work for him, Dan. I have to see him on Monday."
I nodded. I didn't tell her what I was thinking. I dried my hands and went down the hall to my home office — the room at the back of the house with the door that's usually closed.
I sat down at my desk and opened my laptop. I had forty-seven unread work emails. I scrolled past most of them. Then I saw the one from Sarah in HR, forwarded from Marcus, my COO.
Subject: FW: Executive Application — SVP Business Development — Richard A. Voss
I clicked it open. Attached was a resume. A cover letter. Three pages of professional accomplishments.
The name at the top: Richard Allen Voss.
The position he'd applied for: Senior Vice President of Business Development at Cole & Associates.
My company.
I sat back in my chair and stared at the screen. The man who had stood in my backyard forty-eight hours — no, twelve hours ago — and told me to get a real job had just applied to work for me.
I picked up my phone and called Marcus. He answered on the second ring.
"Dan. I was just going to call you. Did you see the —"
"I see it," I said. "Marcus. Tell me everything you know about Richard Voss."
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