Bad Influencer by Kenzie Reed
Chapter Seventeen
Elliott
The investors’ meeting with Park City Properties is teetering on the brink, and frustration burns in my gut. Despite everything we’ve accomplished, despite our massive success with the park opening, the investors are still wavering. Manny Campbell has submitted some bullshit survey which allegedly shows that since I was named CEO, public perception of our parks is skewing towards the negative.
Manny brought Lauren with him to this morning’s meeting. They sit opposite me, and she makes a big show of simpering over him, plucking imaginary lint from his sleeve and shooting me coy little looks. He’s obviously brought her in an attempt to rattle me, when all it does is make me stifle a scornful laugh. I wonder how much longer she’d have her job if he knew of her recent offer to betray his company.
“The time to sell is now.” Manny’s arrogant voice booms through the room, bouncing off the walls. “Before public perception slips even lower, and our offer is either withdrawn or revised in a downward direction.”
Edith coughs into her hand and it sounds a lot like “bullshit,” which earns her a disgusted lip curl from Manny. I wish my father could be here to back me up, but when I mentioned it to my mother, she gave me that wounded-bird look and protested that the stress would be terrible for him.
Quinton Schroder, one of the major investors and my grandfather’s best friend, is in my corner. A couple more are on his side. The other are either wavering or firmly in Manny’s camp.
I raise my voice to a level that matches Manny’s. “So, just to be clear, we should sell based on a single public opinion survey that was taken by a company in your employ.” Scorn drips from my every word.
He pins a cold glower on me. “Are you questioning the integrity of Dunham, Dunham, and Leominster? Their reputation is impeccable.”
“The latest park opening was an undeniable success,” I say. ”And we have our own measures of public perception which directly contradict the report that you’ve presented. We rely on a reputation monitoring firm, and our metrics have continued to trend upwards.” I have to phrase what I’m saying very carefully. Before we took on Jillian, our metrics were flat or downward, thanks in large part to Manny’s whisper campaign with carefully planted pictures of my glum face at park events and constant mentions of my father’s heart attack.
And even I have to admit, if only to myself, that if our company’s revamped reputation is depending on one social media influencer, we’re standing on shaky ground. One single misplanned event could backfire and take us down. Hell, it’s pure luck that no photographer caught me with my usual resting scowl face at the park opening. It shouldn’t matter—numbers are what should matter. Profit and loss—and we’ve got nothing but profit.
If we didn’t have this offer on the table, we’d be fine. But with Manny worrying at us like a terrier with a bone, it does matter.
Manny shakes his head chidingly. ”Big deal, you had a decent opening day. That’s short term,” he says. “It’s meaningless.” My hands itch to smack the patronizing perma-smirk off his face.
“And the public opinion survey you paid for isn’t?” Edith shoots back at him. “Our metrics are far more meaningful. They show that engagement and conversion on our social media feeds are through the roof, and that perception of our parks is overwhelmingly positive. As for the opening-day success of our park, that doesn’t mean that it’s short term. It means that it’s just beginning. The park is at full capacity every single day.”
“Excuse me, who even is she?” Manny sneers at me. “You can’t even speak for yourself. You need your secretary to do it for you? Who’s running this company, anyway?”
A sudden chill falls across the room. Edith has worked her way up through the ranks to her position as executive assistant, and she’s widely loved in our company. She’s the woman who remembers everyone’s birthdays and anniversaries, who hand-writes notes, who sends gifts to sick employees, who makes personal condolence calls and arranges generous bereavement leave. She’s made it a point to befriend the investors and treats them the same way she does everyone else, with kindness, fairness, and a razor wit. Also, those chocolates go a long way towards buying good will.
“Edith is a sixth-generation employee and second only to me in responsibility in this company. Our department heads go through her when they want to talk to me. She could run this entire company with her eyes shut, and her contributions are always welcome,” I say mildly, but I allow the tiniest smirk to curl up the corner of my mouth for just a moment.
Manny sees the expression on everyone’s faces and shifts uncomfortably in his seat. He clears his throat loudly and sits up straighter, leaning forward a little bit. “Are you willing to gamble your company’s entire future on the chance that the opening-day numbers of a brand new park will continue? If your fortunes decline, so will the amount of our offer. It might even be withdrawn.”
The investors exchange uneasy glances.
“His offer is irrelevant. We’ve made our repayments to you not just on time, but ahead of schedule,” I say to them. “You’ve all recouped your original investments and made a handsome profit.”
“But things could turn around at any time,” Manny says quickly. “Let’s not forget why the company was forced to come to you in 2009, hat in hand, begging for money to save them from bankruptcy. Bad management.”
Trevor goes rigid with anger. That’s a direct attack on my father, and the harsh truth is, he’s partially correct. But he’s doing it to provoke an explosion of temper from me, in an attempt to make me look bad in front of the investors, and I won’t let him. There’s too much riding on this.
I smile politely. “Ah, yes, 2008, when everyone’s finances were so healthy. I seem to remember a little thing like a real estate market implosion, a financial crisis, and a recession.” He tries to interrupt, but I keep speaking over him.
“I repeat. We have more than made good on our repayments. And now, let’s address the elephant in the room. The Bradford Family company name is synonymous with family. We’re famous for providing a supportive work environment. There’s a reason we have fifth and sixth generation employees like Edith and hundreds of others working for us. If Park City were to take over our company, it would immediately turn into a public relations disaster, which would be devastating not just to our employees, but to our company’s image and therefore our bottom line. Bad press spreads like wildfire in the internet era, and Park City specializes in bad press.”
As I speak, his face flushes angrily and twists into an ugly grimace.
“What are you smirking at?” he snaps at me, and I just smile gently. Several of the investors glance at him questioningly, and I see that I’ve forced open the door of doubt a crack.
I turn to address them. “You’re well aware that if they take over our company, they’ll not only fire all of our employees, strip them of their benefits, and force them to re-apply for lower paid contract positions, they’ll also lower safety standards to the point where the company will be hit with lawsuit after lawsuit. Your names will go down as the people who sank Bradford Family Resorts.”
Manny snaps to attention. “We’re not facing any lawsuits.”
I lean forward, eyes gleaming. “You’re not only paying massive fines to OSHA due to a series of accidents at the parks you manage, you’re in mediation with multiple individuals who were injured because of your negligent safety standards.”
The investors clear their throats, mumbling among themselves.
“That is strictly confidential! We can sue you for even talking about it!” he barks at me.
“Oh, can you?” I lace my fingers together, rest my hands on the table-top, and smile. “Please do. Not only do you lack a legal leg to stand on, the lawsuit would be a matter of public record. So please, pretty please with sugar on top, do it.”
He swallows hard. His face is an alarming brick red, and he’s visibly struggling to restrain himself. Lauren tries to pat him reassuringly, and he violently jerks his arm away, making her flinch and earning him alarmed looks from the investors. “Who told you about those mediation incidents?”
Trevor leans forward “The injuries made the local news and were widely shared on social media.” He smiles. “You’re not the only one who can work behind the scenes. We just don’t stoop to the level of sending in corporate spies.”
“I didn’t ask you!” Manny barks.
“And yet I answered you.”
Sweat beads on Manny’s forehead. His eyes dart to the investors. He knows he’s losing them.
He tries for a wheedling smile. “This is a massive distortion of the facts. Those incidents were related to parks which we very recently purchased. We have extensive safety upgrades planned for all of them and have already started instituting many of those upgrades.”
Trevor interjects. ”At least seven of the incidents involving very serious, crippling injuries, and three fatalities, occurred at parks that you’ve owned for more than ten years, and—”
“I said I didn’t ask you!” Manny howls furiously, slamming both hands down on the table in front of him so hard that several of the investors jump in their seats.
“Which brings us to a number of HR complaints that have been filed against you personally, alleging abusive behavior,” Trevor continues smoothly. “You’ve settled some of those out of court too, haven’t you? So far, anyway.”
“We’ve heard everything we need to know, wouldn’t you say?” Quinton, bless him, interjects. “Things are getting very heated in here…” He casts a meaningful glance at Manny. “And it’s hard to carry out a rational conversation when people can’t keep their temper under control. I’d like to adjourn this meeting and reconvene in thirty days. Do I have a motion to adjourn?”
“Motion to adjourn,” I say.
“Seconded,” says Maria D’Amato, who has previously been leaning in Manny’s favor. I restrain the urge to pump my fist in the air. Lauren shoots me the look of a wounded bird, as if I’ve personally hurt and disappointed her.
“But I haven’t even had the chance to finish my presentation.” A petulant whine creeps into Manny’s voice. He’s furious.
Quinton ignores him. “All in favor of adjourning the meeting?”
Four of the investors vote yes. Three vote no. Manny shoots me baleful glowers as he gathers up his materials, and he and Lauren make their way out of the room in a huff. The investors say their goodbyes and file out of the room.
“He’s not going to take that lying down,” Edith observes.
I frown in agreement. “I know. I’m sure we’ll get his response shortly.”
It doesn’t take long at all. An hour later, I get a call from a business reporter at the Seattle paper. He’s heard a rumor, from a “reliable source with inside information”, that we opened up the Colorado park despite knowing there were unresolved safety issues with the ride software. He knows about the teams we flew in for backup. Trevor’s been working hard to find the source of our leaks, and again, my mind drifts uneasily to Lauren and any moles she might have in our company. She only worked in marketing. She shouldn’t have access to that kind of information, but again, someone keeps finding shit out and publishing distorted versions of the truth.
But for now, I’ve got to put this fire out. “There are no unresolved issues with our rides. It is standard practice for us to run multiple tests before opening our rides to the public. We take pride in exceeding industry safety standards. I’d be happy to send you copies of the inspection reports. I rode those rides myself multiple times the week before the opening. Now, I understand that you have a job to do, but I just want to make my position clear. If you publish unsubstantiated, false rumors and harm my company, we will take you to court. We will demand the name of your ‘reliable source’, and given that I already know who your source is, we’ll be able to demonstrate that you published false information from a person with a monetary interest in harming our company, even after I provided you with information that disproved their claims. We will go after you and your entire company, and we will not stop.”
I’m bluffing a little when I say that I know who the source is, but I am confident that Manny and Lauren are ultimately behind it all.
When we end the conversation, the reporter isn’t particularly happy, but he’s agreed to hold the story for now, pending receipt of those safety reports. I tell Edith to get those reports to him immediately.
“No swearing,” I order her.
She smiles at me. “Only in my head.”
Later, Jillian meets me in my office-bedroom for dinner. I’ve ordered for us from her favorite vegan restaurant, and we sit down in the little kitchenette.
“You remembered my favorite?”
I shrug. “I pay attention every now and then.”
She smiles widely. “You’re a romantic, Mr. Bradford.”
“I’ve never been accused of that before,” I chuckle. “But I try.”
“You’re getting A’s in my book. I’ll stick around. Thank you for this.” She plants a kiss on my cheek, before taking a seat to eat. “Now tell me what has those frowny-lines stamped onto your forehead,” she says, jabbing her fork into tofu spaghetti.
“Oh, no. That’s the mistake I made with Lauren. My head was always focused on business. You and I will only talk about happy things.”
She fixes me with an ominous glare as she chews her tofu.
I arch my eyebrows. “I’m about to get it, aren’t I?”
She washes her bite down with chamomile tea, then nods. “You are about to get it. If you compare me to that walking sack of silicone again, I will not be responsible for my actions.”
“Noted. I promise you’re nothing like Lauren, and I mean that in the best way possible.”
“Noted.” She throws my word back at me with a smile. “Now spill. I want to know about your day.”
I grunt. “Well, speaking of my ex, I’m concerned that Lauren has a mole working inside our company.” I spell out what happened this afternoon, and the leaks to the press that have us scrambling to find out who’s behind this.
“Hmm.” Jillian frowns. “I can’t help with security issues, obviously—that’s more of a Trevor thing—but I can help with potential bad publicity.”
“Do tell.”
“I shall tell. The public has a short attention span. The best way to wash away the nasty taste of bad publicity is with good publicity. Your Washington park is having their Good Clean Fun weekend, right?”
I nod. “I’m not sure I like where this is going,” I say.
Our Good Clean Fun weekend is ironically named. There are numerous family events, all of which involve dirt. It’s for charity. There are pies in the face, a tightrope walk over a slime pit, grape stomping, and a mud run, among others. Families pay a fee for each member who’s entering. They win various prizes. All the money raised goes to local charities.
“You. Me. Mud run,” Jillian says triumphantly. “Actually, you’re going to do most of the events. And the best thing about all of this is, I don’t have to stand there whispering, ‘Smile for the camera!’“
“Well, thank God for small favors.”
“It won’t matter if you look annoyed, that’s part of the fun,” she continues enthusiastically. “It’s perfect publicity for both you and the park—it shows that you’re a fun guy, ready to get down and dirty with everybody else. After you let people pay to slime you, you’re doing the obstacle course mud run. And just to show you what an amazingly, incredibly, awesomely good sport I am, I will join you. Also, it’ll be a blast.”
“Have you ever actually done a mud run?” I suspect I already know the answer to that one.
“No, but I like trying new things.”
“You say that now.” I can’t entirely suppress my smirk. “You may not be saying so afterwards, and just remember that I reserve the legal right to say ‘I told you so’ as many times as I want afterwards, and you’re not allowed to get mad at me because this was your idea.”
She gives a delicate little snort. “Don’t be so dramatic. I’m going to invite Bronwyn and Ari to do it with me too.”
“I’m sure they’ll thank you afterwards.”
“A little mud never killed anyone,” she scoffs.
“True, but a lot of mud has, on more than one occasion.” I shrug. “Up to you. I’ll book us a suite so we can get cleaned up afterwards.” I waggle my brows and move in close to her.
She narrows her eyes at me. ”You are full-on smirking at me.”
“Let me get some practice in. ‘I told you so, I told you so…’” I lean in and place a kiss on her lips, savoring the way she melts under my touch. We’re lost in each other for several minutes, mouths melded together, hands exploring. It’s Jillian who finally pulls away. Her lips are swollen and she’s breathless. Just the way I like her.
“You will be eating your words next week,” she warns with a grin.
My smirk grows wider. After all, this woman unleashed triplets on me, not once, but multiple times. And payback’s a real Lauren Smallwood—which is my new universal go-to phrase for “bitch”.