It was a dull life—but he knew that his father was paving the way for him. And if appearances could be trusted, he had finally acquired the grudging respect of his father. The old man no longer looked at him with palpable distrust. The elder Myers rarely spoke of the dark days in Columbus anymore. Shawn knew that his father would never forget about that bleak episode; but he seemed, finally, to be willing to leave it behind them.
Until Alyssa Chalmers had first teased him, and then provoked him with her attitude. She was, at her core, no better than Tina Shields, Jill Johnson, or Carla Marsh. She hid behind her age and assumed innocence.
Perhaps he would yet find a way to make the girl pay—but first he needed to neutralize the threat from her meddling mother.
Chapter 70
Kurt Myers, Shawn Myers, Bernie Chapman, and Beth Fisk were gathered around a table in the executive boardroom of UP&S. They had told their administrative assistants to hold all calls. Nothing short of an explosion in the factory was to be considered grounds for interrupting this meeting.
By this time—nine a.m. in the morning—they had all seen the interview between Janet Porter and the Channel 11 reporter. Thanks to the techno-magic of the Internet, they had been able to view it multiple times.
“This is a real shit storm,” Kurt said. “Exactly what we don’t need right now, while we’re trying to turn this factory into a profitable operation.”
He turned to Beth, who would be tuned into the collective mood and reaction of UP&S’s employees. “I don’t suppose we got lucky, and no one but us caught the local evening news last night.”
“I’m sorry, Kurt,” Beth said. “All of the employees are asking about it. Those who didn’t catch the original broadcast on television have watched the video on the Channel 11 website. I figured that we needed to confront this head-on. So I issued instructions for all line supervisors to gather their team members and announce that we know about the news story; and that we categorically deny that there is any truth in the allegations.”
“That's exactly what we have to do.” Bernie Chapman nodded. “A situation like this tends to encourage copycat claims. If we don't proactively nip this in the bud, we will have a dozen frivolous and spurious lawsuits by the end of the week.”
“I suppose we should also contact our outside counsel,” Kurt said.
“I'm already on it,” Bernie answered. “This morning I spoke with Michael Freeman at Baxter, Smith, and Harrison.”
“That's good,” Kurt said. Michael Freeman was one of the partners at Baxter, Smith, and Harrison. TP Automotive had relied on the Detroit-based law firm for more than a decade. If there was a way to successfully run interference against the troublemakers from Citizens for Corporate Truth, then Michael Freeman would find it. But how much damage would be done in the meantime? How long would it be before Janet Porter’s insinuations appeared in the national media and the industry press?
“Should we make a preemptive statement to The Detroit Automotive Gazette?” Beth wondered aloud. The Detroit Automotive Gazette was read by everyone who had any serious connection to the automotive industry. It consisted of a weekly glossy paper and a website that received heavy traffic.
“I asked Michael Freeman about that,” Bernie said. “In his opinion, we first need to assess whether or not this mess can be contained. If we can choke this off while it's still nothing but a vague set of undefined allegations, then the story may never spread beyond central Ohio. But if this Porter woman goes public with something more concrete, then we will have no choice but to issue a statement to the Gazette. At that point, we will also need to contact the mainstream national media as well. I'm talking CNN and Fox News––media outlets like that.”
Kurt nodded grimly. “I understand.”
Kurt paused to let out a long sigh. Bernie began to compulsively twist the gold ring on his finger. Beth pursed her lips. Shawn stared down at the tabletop. He had said nothing so far.
“Beth,” Kurt said. “Would you mind giving us a few minutes?”
“Me?” Beth pointed to herself, as if there were multiple people in the room who answered to the name of Beth.
“Please,” Kurt said. “Bernie and Shawn and I need to talk for a while.”
“Well,” Beth looked around the table at the three men and finally said, “Okay.” She was obviously offended, and just as obviously unwilling to voice a word of protest. She stood and gathered her papers, her pen, and her coffee cup. “I’ll be at my desk if you want me to rejoin the meeting.”
“Thanks, Beth,” Kurt said solicitously. “I appreciate it.”
Kurt waited until Beth had left the room. She no doubt interpreted the request to leave as blatant sexism—a nasty remnant of the old boys network that had dominated the automotive industry for decades, before the winds of political correctness had changed things in the late 1980s.
Kurt regretted this inevitable misinterpretation, as he legitimately valued Beth Fisk’s contributions. She was one of his more reliable lieutenants. However, he would have to repair relations with Beth at a later date. Far more pressing issues were weighing down on him now. With Beth out of the room, the meeting participants were limited to the three men who had been involved in Shawn’s troubles at Ohio State a decade and a half ago.
“Shawn,” Kurt began. “Is there anything more to this situation that you would like to add, now that it’s only you and me and Bernie here in the room?”
“You know everything that there is to know,” Shawn said quickly, and more than a trifle defensively. “I had an argument with that silly little bitch from the cleaning company. Her mother showed up, accused me of something sexual, and assaulted me with a mop handle.”
“So you say,” Kurt said. “Shawn, I’m actually glad that I don’t know the full details of what happened in the office that night. That enables me to give you the benefit of the doubt. But something tells me that this Porter woman has something else up her sleeve. Did you hear the last part of that exchange on the news? They were talking about murder.”
“What are you asking, Dad? Are you asking me if I murdered someone?”
“Well, did you? Or is there something else that I should know about? Anything else?”
“No, Dad.”
Bernie looked like he was about to intervene. The lawyer raised his hands in a gesture that urged both of the Myers to remain calm. Bernie was on the verge of opening his mouth when Kurt thundered at his son.
“Don’t give me that shit! I haven’t forgotten about that little incident at OSU! How Bernie and I had to bail you out! You promised me—promised your mother—that you would never do anything like that again! You swore that you would walk the straight and narrow and keep your nose clean!”
“I have, Dad! I have! They’re making this shit up! Completely!”
Kurt went on as if his son had not spoken. “That stupid stunt you pulled with the girl, that was bad enough. You got off lucky there—at least nobody can prove that. But if we’re talking about murder, then that doesn’t go away!”
An odd silence filled the room in the aftermath of Kurt’s outburst. The elder Myers’s face had reddened. A vein protruded from his forehead. The younger Myers met his father’s rage-filled stare with one filled with an equal measure of defiance.
“Dad,” he said. “I told you I didn’t do anything to that girl. And I certainly didn't kill anyone. Come on.” He appealed to Bernie for assistance. “That’s crazy.”
Bernie regarded the closed door of the meeting room. His face reflected a sentiment that would have been shared by all of them: This would be a bad time for an eavesdropper to be listening just outside the door.
“All right, gentlemen. Let’s regroup,” the lawyer said. “We’ve all got frayed nerves after that Channel 11 report. We have to focus on the tasks ahead of us. None of us knows—” Bernie involuntarily glanced at Shawn, then immediately looked away. “None of us knows what sort of revelation Citizens for Corporate Truth is going to spring on us in the
upcoming days. And let’s look at this on the bright side: They could have nothing more than some bogus violation of an obscure environmental code under their sleeves.”
“That woman more or less implied a revelation of murder,” Kurt said. “She spoke of ‘crimes against persons’ and ‘unconscionable abuses of power.’ That isn’t the sort of language one uses to describe an environmental code violation.”
“Nothing more than talk at this point,” Bernie said dismissively. “It could very well be an idle threat. I know that Channel 11 report was damaging, but let’s keep this in perspective. So far, there are no official allegations against the company or anyone in our management hierarchy. I suspect that we’re up against nothing but a manipulative teenaged girl, her mother, and some fanatical anti-business group.”
“Ask Michael Freeman if we have any grounds to sue Channel 11,” Kurt said. “Janet Porter made some serious insinuations. I want you to write the station a letter and tell them that we’re looking into legal action. That may cool their enthusiasm for letting that woman on the air again.”
“Already on it,” Bernie said. “We’ll mobilize every available resource to protect the livelihoods of the workers in this factory and the good name of TP Automotive.”
“Well, there you have it,” Kurt said. Then to Shawn: “Leave Bernie and me alone for a while now. We have another matter to discuss. It doesn’t concern you.”
Shawn was indignant: “What am I, Beth Fisk?”
Kurt sighed. “Just do it. This is a mundane matter. Speaking of Beth Fisk, ask her to follow up with the factory floor supervisors. See how the workers reacted to the company’s explanation of that damned news report.”
Resigned, Shawn stood up and left the room. When he had gone, Kurt asked: “What about Craig Walker? Is it time to release him? He’s done everything we originally hired him for. And now he’s become nothing but trouble.”
Bernie shook his head. “I don’t think that’s wise. Not at the moment. We know that he’s nursing a grudge against Shawn.”
Grudge was probably an understatement, Kurt knew. Craig and his son had nearly come to blows on that night several weeks ago. Shawn had told him that the consultant was attempting to “show off for the cleaning woman’s daughter.” According to Shawn, the girl Alyssa had displayed unprovoked rudeness when he had asked her to clean the hall more thoroughly. Shawn admitted that he had handled the matter poorly.
“I called her a little spoiled brat,” Shawn had explained. “And then she went ballistic, and then Craig Walker came on the scene and decided to take their side by physically assaulting me.”
Kurt had never questioned Walker about the matter—nor had anyone from the TP Automotive team. That would suggest internal division; and that might prompt Walker—or others—to look deeper into the conduct of his son.
Kurt knew that Shawn’s rendition of his confrontation with Craig Walker was likely skewed. He had probably told the teenaged girl that she had a nice ass or something equally stupid, and that had been the trigger that started the whole melee. Well, the girl was probably far from innocent. How many high school girls were innocent nowadays? Nevertheless, Shawn had committed a major blunder. He should have ignored the girl completely. If he really had needed to remark about some aspect of the cleaning company’s work, he should have directed his comments to the woman—not her daughter. Kurt knew that there was something about his son and women that was not quite right. He had known that for years.
“Moreover,” Bernie continued. “We need more time to gauge Craig’s reaction to our little chat outside Donna Chalmers’ house. And Craig will be much easier to watch if he’s onsite versus off on another consulting job for another company. Of course, he could decide to leave on his own, after the way we scared him the other night.”
“Craig won’t leave on his own initiative,” Kurt said. “That would be an open acknowledgement of fear—an admission that we got to him.” Kurt chuckled, and reflected that this was the first moment of levity he had enjoyed since the Channel 11 report had come to light. “Did you see Craig’s face when he got a look at Adam?”
Bernie smiled in response. “For a moment there, the Termination Man lost his composure. But then, we can’t really fault him too much for his reaction, can we? Adam isn’t the sort of guy that anyone would like to meet up with on the street at night.”
Adam Seitz was the hulk who had accompanied Kurt and Bernie on their evening expedition to Donna Chalmers’ house. Adam was a member of TP Automotive’s corporate security team. Though based in Detroit, he was occasionally dispatched to the company’s remote locations when a situation required a hint of physical intimidation. Thus far, Adam had never had to actually lay a hand on anyone. His mere presence had always been more than enough to convince a recalcitrant employee or contractor that TP Automotive was not a company to be trifled with.
“Craig did his best to show a poker face,” Kurt said. “I’ll give him that. But I could see the fear in his eyes. He was scared. If we’re lucky, that will be enough to bring him back into line. I would hate to see the Craig Walker matter escalate. And truth be told, I always feel a little bad when we have to bring Adam into a situation. We both know that he’s just for show, but I don’t like the idea of physically threatening people—even by implication.”
But Craig Walker could make the problems with Shawn far more difficult to resolve, Kurt thought. What was Craig up to? Why did he have to poke the cleaning woman? He was a good-looking man; and there were plenty of other women out there that he could have. Like that dish Claire, his assistant. Now that’s one that I wouldn’t mind poking myself, Kurt reflected.
“And I don’t like the idea of people making scurrilous attacks on the company,” Bernie said.
Kurt nodded. “Neither do I. As we both know, TP Automotive is one of the pillars of the national—or rather, the global—automotive industry. Thousands of people around the world rely on us for jobs. Two thirds of the vehicles on the road contain our components. The survival and prosperity of this company outweighs the concerns of Craig Walker, and of that cleaning woman and her daughter, for that matter. It’s up to us—members of the company’s management—to remember what’s important. This is something that we must never forget, Bernie.”
Chapter 71
Claire finally pushed Shawn away—gently, with a smile, but firmly. He had insisted on making love to her three times that evening—once before dinner, and then twice after they arrived back at her hotel room.
She knew that she had a hold on him; but she also knew that no thirty-something man requires more than three orgasms in a single day. He was trying to prove a point now—trying to demonstrate his manhood.
“Enough,” she said, running her hand down his chest as she guided him back to his side of the bed. “You flatter me, Shawn, you really do. It’s been a long time since a man wanted me so much.”
“Well, don’t flatter yourself too much,” he said. “I’ve had a lot of women, you know”
“Of course you have,” she said neutrally. But she knew better. Shawn betrayed his lack of experience and confidence through his eagerness. There was an awkward desperation in the way that he practically attacked her each time, like a sex-starved sixteen-year-old boy. The fury of his groping hands and his wild thrusts revealed that he was incredulous of his luck. On some level he did not fully believe that a woman like herself actually wanted to be with him. And this was her leverage against him, if she ever needed it.
He rolled over and lay on his back, staring up at the ceiling. In these post-coital moments, it was his usual habit to allow his eyes and hands to linger on her body. To celebrate his possession of her. But his mood had suddenly shifted. Wherever Shawn Myers’s thoughts might be, they were far from this room.
“I think you’re distracted now,” she said.
“Distracted? How do you mean?” There was an edge to his voice. For a split second she wondered if Craig might have been right about Shawn—if he reall
y was dangerous.
No, she decided. Shawn Myers was not dangerous. At least he wasn’t dangerous to her—which was the only thing that really mattered.
Shawn was nothing more than an insecure boy in a man’s body. She would be able to manipulate him at will. And that included manipulating him to tell her everything. If there were to be secrets in their relationship, they would be hers—not his.
She wanted to know what he was thinking about. He wasn’t keeping secrets from her, was he? Secrets could not be tolerated (again, unless they were her secrets). Secrets would weaken her hold on him—make him more difficult to control.
“What I mean, Shawn, is that with all the recent turmoil, it’s understandable that you’re a little distracted. The cleaning woman’s daughter making up those stories about you and whatnot. It’s got to be getting under your skin.”
“I’m fine,” he insisted. “It’s all a bunch of BS.”
Spoken like a high school boy, she thought. Shawn’s reply sounded like something that her long-ago boyfriend, Jamie Watkins, would have said. Men were all the same—whether they lived in rented trailers, or luxury mansions in the richest suburbs of Detroit. They all wanted to demonstrate that nothing could touch them. Well, men were wrong about that aspect of themselves. Hadn’t she gotten under this one’s skin quite easily?
“What about that report on television?” she asked.
“You mean Channel 11?”
“Unless there are other TV stations threatening to expose scandals at TP Automotive. Are there more of them? Should I check CNN?”
“Very funny,” he retorted. “Like I said, it’s nothing. You can bet that the woman on TV has some connection to Donna Chalmers.”
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