Don't Say Anything

73. You Made Me Look Like A Fool

Will's POV

Damn meetings. Damn Paris convention that is causing all these meetings. Damn Jack for being disorganized and causing the Paris convention to cause meetings. It's a headache that I don't feel like dealing with right now. My phone is still in my office and I haven't gotten a break to send a quick text to Jess to say plans will be impossible tonight. I'll be lucky if I get out of here by ten o'clock.

"William!" I deep voice yells and the pen I was flicking around my thumb flies into the air.

"Yes," I reply quickly refocusing my attention on the speaker at the head of the table. I leave my pen wherever it landed because I'm not taking notes anyway.

"Are you even listening to anything we're saying?" Jack asks bringing all the eyes in the room to rest on me. I hate when he talks to me like a child. I fucking hate it. I already feel enough pressure being the youngest one in the room by far. I don't think he means to sound condescending, and he knows I'm more competent than the majority of the people in this meeting, but he can't help himself. Jack sees an opportunity of power and takes it, which is why I'm sure it's taking him forever to step down from his job.

"I'm listening," I try my best not to clench my teeth and my hands end up fisting instead. I hide them under the table as soon as I notice.

"Then what's your opinion of moving the convention down the street to La Chambre?" the head of Arizona's branch speaks up. He's like the Jack of Arizona, but I can't recall his name. The head of Washington also flew out to be at this meeting. The three of them burn holes into my head with their eyes as I contemplate the best way to respond.  

Why are they asking me out of all the people in this room? I thought I was just forced to come to these meetings to daydream and look like I'm engrossed in their arrogant negotiating. It's very rare that topics directly affecting me are disused, and when I try to share my opinion, I'm always shot down. I swear it's because of my age, so I've learned to keep my mouth shut.

The old guy from Arizona just gave me an opportunity to finally talk, and there's no way I'm going to be shy. If they want my opinion, I'll give them my opinion.

"That's a terrible idea," I say sitting upright in my swivel chair. A couple eyebrows shoot up and Jack glares at me.

"I'd be intrigued to hear why," Mr. Arizona says leaning back. He doesn't seem upset, and neither does the Washington guy, which keeps me talking.

"La Chambre would be more costly, which we can't afford with the extra security that is now required. It's a bigger building, meaning we could fit more people in, but that would take away the exclusiveness of the event. It's not supposed to be something for the general public. We're aiming for the demographic of the upper class in order to start setting up headquarters in France. And even though La Chambre it's bigger, it's only one room. We wouldn't be able to split off the art exhibits into their own sections. It would be a mess. I really don't see the point of moving the event so last minute when the only benefit seems to be, what? Parking? We have more important things to be worrying about like figuring out where the final funding is coming from and picking our charities for the auction. These decisions should have been made weeks ago."

I pause to take a breath, but then stop myself from continuing. They didn't ask me to rant about everything going wrong. They simply wanted to know why moving the convention is the stupidest idea I've ever heard.

It felt good to finally be able to have my voice heard, even on such a trivial matter. It's up to them whether they agree with me or not, but I'll never have regrets on speaking my mind. From the look on Jack's face, maybe I should.