He spun on his heel and walked back in for rags and a bottle of something the clerk promised would remove sticky goo, and possibly the car paint too. He fussed with the stupid coin and rags for way too long, especially since he could have used the remote to open the door, but better to do the clean up before the glue fully set. The remover stunk up the car. His gag reflex kicked in and his forehead grew clammy. Not only did he not have time for lunch, but he’d lost his appetite anyway. Mostly. He managed to chop down a handful of Tums.
In the office parking lot, a woman in a red suit shoved a microphone in his face as soon as he closed the car door.
“Jenny Patricio, Channel Ten. Why did you cancel the train display?”
“No comment.” Not the cleverest retort. He picked up speed as he spied another person walking toward him. The security tag worked to let him in the building, but in case some clever person tried to sneak in behind him, he pulled the door closed. At the click, his shoulders relaxed. In another day or two this would all blow over.
In his office, he spread files on his desk to prepare for next in-depth departmental review. But the phone kept ringing and Grace kept putting people through. She didn’t vet his calls well. He tried calling the home office PR staff, but the secretary informed him everyone else was at a training seminar. She promised to pass on the message. Clearly no-one in the home office understood the urgent level of chaos he faced. If he got through this smelling like a rose, he deserved to become partner, no matter what the numbers looked like. He flipped through the report, unable to focus. He had to go to the top, even though on this matter he supposedly was the top. Nope. He needed his father.
“James, what can I do for you? Did you find a buyer this soon?”
“No, Sir. Did you see the press release I sent out?”
“Let me pull it up.” A pause stretched out. James bounced his leg to the tapping in the background. “Looks like a good cost cutting move.”
“It is, but the locals are up in arms. A camera crew accosted me in the parking lot.”
“So you say ‘no comment’ and keep walking. I don’t understand the problem.”
“The blowback is— “
“Settle down. I’m disappointed in you. You sound like a whiny child and frankly, if you can’t handle a bunch of unhappy people in a hick fly-over town, you’ll never be able to run with the bulls.”
James swallowed hard. He may as well be ten years old again, failing to make the winners circle in golf, or tennis. “I was hoping for advice on the best tactics for keeping Fordham, Fordham and Schmidt out of the negative press. People seem to take this cancellation as a personal insult. I don’t wish to drag the corporate name through the mud for an ethical and reasonable business decision.”
That might be a stretch of the situation since the attacks seemed focused on him.
“Reasonable. If they are playing dirty, which, after pulling up a few articles, it seems like they are doing, then you should too. Paint the mayor as a stuck-in-the-past relic. As someone who would rather keep the trains and lose all the jobs at Adena. That might sway some opinions and would allow us to take charge of and return the focus to the economic story.” His father word came wrapped in anger.
“And paint that train person...here’s his name...Claire? A woman even better. And that hair, clearly unprofessional. Paint her as vindictive, running to the media to complain and inventing a problem as a cash and publicity grab. We should be able to dredge something up on her, porn past, anti-American protests, drugs, arrests, there has to be something. She looks like that type. Did we break a contract?”
“We bought out the contract.” James’ gut squeaked out a disconcerting noise. Was Claire out for revenge? Was she behind the flaming dog poop, the penny, and soapy windshield? She didn’t seem psychotic when they spent time together, but then again, she didn’t seem like she played with toy trains either.
“Even better for us. She got the money and is trying to get more from the attention. Really, James, I shouldn’t have to come up with these things for you.”
“But you strategize with the other leaders to find a solution.”
“That’s different. Those are complicated transactions. We gave you and Danny low value projects to test your abilities to problem solve and lead independently. I must say, this call does not bode well for you. You will need to work twice as hard and come in with solid financials and a buyer to have a chance at making partner. I will do my best to keep this from the others, but remember, second place is first loser. Do not disappoint me.”
“I’ll do my best.” The other end of the line clicked into silence. James grabbed his trash can and heaved, but the knot in his stomach refused to budge. He found the back-up Pepto in his drawer and chugged the remainder. Something had to work on his gut. He’d tried pretty much everything.
He stared out the window. A camera crew lurked in the parking lot, like snakes waiting for prey. He knew better than to shove a camera person or swear or yell, but the employees of Adena weren’t used to the media. James drummed his fingers on the table and closed his eyes.
A mental image of Walter’s office swirled into view. Weren’t there a few framed newspaper articles? But print was different than TV. Visuals risked going viral. He
