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“Well, yes, except one of the maintenance guys said that his brother was licensed and bonded and could have the pipes repaired same-day, except… And this is where itreallygets interesting, boss.”
“You have my full attention.” It’s the truth. I’m enjoying playing into her skit. She seems very proud of herself.
“Graystone and Lakeshore apparently have an exclusive agreement with one plumbing company—Ottman Plumbing. They won’t call in anyone else to do plumbing repairs so all the residents have to wait on thatoneteam.”
“Again, Spencer, not to burst your bubble, but that’s not uncommon.”
“Bup, bup, bup—let me finish,” she chirps. “Remember how you asked me to get that detailed breakdown of the invoice from the construction company? The office manager warned me they’d be switching plumbing providers before the final construction because they didn’t like howOttman Plumbingmakes their clients sign an exclusivity agreement saying if they do the initial installation, they are the only ones who can service the plumbing for a minimum offifteen years.”
“Fifteen? Nothing in plumbing is under warranty for fifteen years as far as I’m aware.”
“Exactly!” she exclaims with glee. “Don’t you get it? They are purposely doing shitty jobs during construction, banking on theplumbing failing, then they reach into your pockets again for the repairs. Not to mention, they are also half-assing the repairs for more billable hours.”
“Holy shit?—”
“And guess who was contracted for plumbing at Lakeshore and Graystone apartments?”
“Ottman.”
“Yup. And guess what kinds of damages almost all of the voicemails for Graystone and Lakeshore are about?”
“Plumbing?”
“And the fallout from shoddy work. Water damage, mold, warped floors, mildew odors. Boss, your complexes are basically giant soggy boxes of cardboard. I’d move if I could afford to.”
I spring up in my seat, pressing the phone tightly to my ear. “So it’s not the tenant or the property management company’s fault. We need to take the plumber to court.”
“Precisely.”
“And you have a paper trail?”
“I think so? I have detailed documentation with time stamps, and just in case, I made sure to save every single voice message I listened to.”
I could kiss her right now. We’ll need the documentation to bury these corrupt fucks. She’s so smart for keeping it. “Spencer, you did amazing.Good girl.”
“I…uh…okay. Thank you.” She clears her throat like she’s uncomfortable, and I can’t for the life of me understand what suddenly tripped her up.
“You said there’s still more messages?”
“Yes, I was actually still listening when you called.”
And now I’m the asshole who has my assistant working late on a Friday night. My brilliant assistant who might’ve just saved my company hundreds of millions of dollars in the way of lawsuits.
“Have you eaten?” I ask.
“Huh?”
“Meet me at the office. Run me through your spreadsheet and I’ll help you listen to the rest of the calls. We can order a late dinner. Breakfast too if we pull an all-nighter. I want to get my legal team as much ammo as possible to build a strong case. We’re going to bury these assholes, immediately.”
“I would, Nathan. I want to help. But I can’t leave my apartment.”
I scoff. “What, you got a hot date over there or something?” It’s a joke, but my stomach churns at the idea of Spencer with a guy. I realize she’s not mine. But also,she’s mine.If I’m going to give her a fair shot as my executive assistant, she really doesn’t have time to be talking to any other guy.
“My sister is underage and I don’t have a babysitter.”
“Oh.”
“But I’ll keep plugging away tonight and will report to your office first thing on Monday after I drop Charlie off at school.”