“To the West Way!” they all chant.
“Well, that’s weird,” Josh hears Pillsbury say.
“I know!” Josh answers, takes a seat.
“Shh!” Pillsbury says.
“What, Josh?” West asks.
“The West Way. It’s the key to everything. I could never pull off something this huge by myself.” He scoots his folding chair up to the table. “Looking forward to meeting everyone.”
“Good save,” Agent Pillsbury says. “Don’t worry, you’ll get used to the earpiece. Basically, I get to talk, tell you to do things, say things, but you don’t get to say—”
“There’s one more item of business we’d like to discuss before we dive into our main event.” West walks away from Josh to the end of the conference table, addresses the room. “A merger. Makeshift Media with Streamium. Now, I know we already have a streaming service, but Streamium has been swallowing up the AFI’s Top …”
“Is this CAAD or a board meeting?” Josh whispers out of the side of his mouth to his vice president of PR, Pamela Gunter, who’s seated to his left. “I’m confused.”
“It’s both,” she whispers back.
“You have any idea who these people are?”
“Just Jamal,” she says. “He’s never introduced anyone else. But I’m kinda new too. This is only my fourth meeting with this cult.”
Josh tries not to laugh. “Who’s on the board?”
“I couldn’t tell you, maybe some of these people we don't know.” Pamela leans in, whispers into his ear. “And every now and then he talks directly to that camera.”
Josh follows her eyes, which are clearly making their way somewhere. He spots the camera in the corner. He whispers to the pen in a deep voice, “Did you hear that?”
“Hear what?” Pamela asks.
“What did I tell you?” Agent Pillsbury comes through so loud it makes Josh jump. “We heard her, now shh.”
“Isn’t that right, Josh?” West asks.
“I’m sorry?” Josh looks to his right and left. Everyone is staring. “I didn’t hear you, sir, Pamela was distracting me.”
Pamela whips around.
Josh shrugs.
“Jamal had just asked if we were setting up surveillance on the Streamium executives,” West says. “I told him hell no, we are cleaning up our act, just like we talked about.”
“Yes, I agree. I think anything that gives us a leg up on any sort of negotiations should be handled in a forthright manner. Anything less is going to call more attention to us as a company. Listen, my team has done a lot of work getting our donors and guests back on track. We can’t afford any more hiccups. Not right now anyway.”
“Nicely put.”
Josh can’t tell if the remark came from Pillsbury or West, so he says nothing.
“Josh, can you give us an update on the Élan Trust?” West asks. “How well are we doing with donations?”
“This should be good,” says Agent Pillsbury.
“Well, I talked to Miss Harriet at the end of the day today,” Josh begins, “and she says she’s gotten everyone back on board, except for two smaller donors. She says her team has added an additional twenty-nine million dollars to make up for it, thanks mostly to a celebrity competition of sorts, led by Augustine Trudeau. Nine different people have matched her three-million-dollar donation. So right now, we are close to seventy million, give or take. And we are sure that will increase dramatically before and during tomorrow’s silent auction. We’re on track for a Guinness record.”
“An amazing feat,” West says, with a side glance to the camera. “This money will go across the world to help the many different philanthropic endeavors of many of our guests.”
Pillsbury coughs. “Right.”
“Right?” Josh says.
“Right!” West exclaims. “We are well on our way to cleaning up our reputation. Josh, please give an update on the guest list.”
“Ask him if there’s anyone specific he’d like to know about,” Agent Pillsbury says.
“Anyone in particular you’d like to know about, sir?”
“Just a general update.”
Josh realizes he’s not prepared to answer his own question. “I didn’t bring any files with me, sorry, but I can get the answer for you tomorrow.”
“Just off the top of your head; it’s very exciting, just want to give our fellow CAADites a general feel of what they can expect.”
“Y’all are coming, right?” Josh asks.
“Oh, yes.”
“Wouldn’t miss it.”
“Absolutely.”
The replies all come at the same time. To Josh, they don’t seem authentic.
“Has everyone RSVP’d?” he asks.
“Oh, there’s no need,” West chimes in. “We’ll have VIP passes ready for them, right, Josh?”
“But I still need to regis—”
“Just say yes,” Pillsbury says.
“Yes, absolutely,” Josh nods. “Just come find me or Jamal at security, tell us you’re a part of CAAD, we’ll have some passes on hand. Sound okay, Jamal?”
“I’ll make a note.”
“Tell them who’s going to be there, Josh,” West says.
“Well, it’s actually more like who’s not going to be there. We have A-list television and film stars, including Augustine Trudeau and her husband, political figures such as New York senator Michael Singer and former vice president Roger Maddox, and philanthropic leader Sandra Billings, as well as a handful of New York City sports legends, just to name a few.”
“All on board?”
“By on board, if you mean they’re coming, yessir, they are all coming, and are very excited about what you are doing for their causes.”
Josh gets a text, looks down. It’s from Shawn.
They bugged our house. Don’t trust anything West says.
Josh hears another ding. It’s not from his phone. He looks around. West is looking down at his own phone.
West looks up, locks eyes with Josh.
Josh gasps.
“What’s wrong?” Agent Pillsbury asks.
“Nothing,” Josh whispers without moving his lips.
“Wonderful.” James pats his palms on the table. “Well, I think that’s everything. We are officially adjourned for the year, people. Thank you for all your service. This company wouldn’t be
