The newscaster was interviewing picketers outside this very hotel as people complained about water poisoning and destroyed open space. And then, of course, there were the children. The channel kept returning again and again to video footage of the ambulance bringing the two kids to the hospital. If, as Fre said, the kids were now back home, the news wasn’t in any hurry to show that.
Finally, I gave it up, took a shower, shaved, and dressed—dark blue suit, white shirt, red tie. The uniform of membership in the executive privilege club. I never left home without it. The chances that I’d get a call from Tommy Lee to go be the face of American Eagle at some dinner or meeting were always there. The outfit looked good. My dad made sure I had the best clothes money could buy.
When I walked back into the living room, Fre had put his suit coat back on. He flashed me a smile. “Ah, there’s my handsome baby.”
Baby? That was new. And so not Fre. I noticed my dad and the local execs were in the other room. Even Louis had stepped out, so Fre’s greeting had been carefully private.
Fre opened his mouth to say something, but just then my dad made his entrance, this time wearing a silver suit that was clearly expensive but a bit too shiny to be truly elegant. He did it on purpose. My dad had been rich long enough to have acquired a modicum of polish, but he liked to create the myth that he was just a simple wildcatter who’d had some luck. He did that with diamond cuff links and putting ketchup on his Kobi beef. Of course, he actually liked ketchup. But none of that went for me. I was expected to show that perfect flowers could grow on a knotty tree, and elegance and breeding could spring from rough stock. Of course, my mother hadn’t been rough, but we ignored that fact. I was Tommy Lee’s masterpiece.
He stopped in front of me and Fremont. “Damn, Rand, you should be our fucking logo. Now you two just stand there and impress the shit out of these assholes, while I weave my magic.”
We trooped out the door. Louis and Charlie ran interference to get us through the crowds to the meeting room where they’d set up the press.
Inside, my father broke into a jog and trotted up to the stage, waving at the members of the press who snapped pictures and video like mad. “Hey, you guys and girls. How the hell are you?” He bounded onto the dais, not even bothering with the steps. Fre and I more sedately took the stairs and stood at the back of the platform, but every eye in the place was plastered on my dad. Man, he’d called it his magic and he wasn’t kidding. Exuding charisma and the energy of a thirty-year-old despite his five decades, he was the “aw shucks” everyman. Hell, he could have run for president.
He swaggered up to the mic. “Okay, let’s all calm down. Everybody got a drink that wants one? Good. There’s some fancy finger food out, too, so eat up. Now the fact is, I had to be here today myself, because, while the outcome has been even better than we could have hoped, the events leading up to those tykes getting sick were the nightmare that every CEO lies awake dreading. Despite our best efforts, and you know those efforts are the best, right? I mean, in a sea of infractions, American Eagle comes out squeaky. Anyway, something failed. Something small had a big effect, and while we caught it quick due to our exceptional system security, it still hurt those kids. I’ll never get over that, folks.” He shook his head and stared at the ground. Then he looked up. “But they will. Those children are at home in the loving arms of their parents, receiving the best care that money, and the love of this community, can buy.”
I wasn’t sure whether to cry or barf, but the audience had made up their minds. They stared at my father, mesmerized. Most of them were even smiling at his schtick.
Then he pulled out the photos. “We want everybody to agree to respect the privacy of those wonderful families, so we took some pictures for you. Holly and Monica have a full set of photos of those kids arriving home for you all to use. TV, we’ve got B-roll for you.” Two of my dad’s very professional, and very beautiful, PR women moved through the crowd handing out electronic press kits.
My dad waved an arm. “By the way, y’all, you know my son, Rand? He came rushing here too when he heard about those children. And this here is Fremont Townsend. He’s a new member of my top legal team, but I know you know his daddy, Senator Townsend. Fremont is my son’s fiancé. How about that? Oil and the environmental lobby fraternizing, as it were.” He laughed at his own joke.
There were surprised murmurs. A lot of people applauded and fingers clicked on phones, but my stomach wouldn’t get up off my polished shoes. Damn the man. Did he seriously spring this on me at a press conference? Still, I knew what was expected. Public unity, no matter what. I plastered on a smile as Fre grabbed my hand and raised it with his, as people gave us a whistle.
A reporter called, “Anything to add, Rand?”
My father glanced at me with a warning in his eyes, but I took a couple steps up to the mic. “I’m proud to be part of a company that takes an incident like this to heart. American Eagle Energy is committed to the future of energy, just as Fremont and I are committed to seeing that drilling mishaps don’t happen, and that the economy of Pennsylvania enjoys lots of good—” My gaze glanced off my father’s face. “—clean jobs.”
People called questions, but I stepped back from the mic, took Fre’s hand, and walked off the dais.
My father yelled, “Thanks for coming, everybody. Bar will be open for another half hour or so. Enjoy.”
And we all escaped the press conference room before anybody really noticed that my father hadn’t answered any questions.
Once we got back to the suite, Fre glanced at his watch and said, “I’ve got a plane. I better get moving.”
“What?” I growled. Unbelievable. They drop a freaking bomb and then leave town?
“Sorry, Rand. I didn’t know you were going to be here, and I’ve got early appointments in New York in the morning.” He leaned in and whispered, “Plus you don’t really want to make love in your father’s suite, right?”
Considering how long it had been since I’d had sex, I probably would have fucked a duck in the middle of the living room floor, but that wasn’t even my first priority. “You don’t think we should discuss the fiancé thing then,” I said flatly.
Fre had the intelligence to look sheepish. “I told him he shouldn’t— I’m sorry, baby. Let’s do a Skype tonight, okay? But I hope you’re as excited about this as I am.” He kissed me on the cheek. “By the way, you look gorgeous in that suit, as always. What a stunner.”
“Thanks,” I muttered. But I was still pissed he was leaving.
Fre had a quiet conversation with my father, the two of them looking incredibly cozy, before racing out the door carrying his crammed laptop case.
My father glanced at me as his execs went back in the working bedroom. “Give me a minute, guys.” He walked over to me. “I appreciate you coming, son, even with that crack about clean jobs.” He barked a laugh. “Totally distracted those reporters with that face.” He pinched my cheek, pride in his eyes.
As always, my father’s praise caused a flush of pleasure. But I shook my head impatiently. “Thank you, sir. But did you have to say Fre and I were engaged? Hell, somebody ought to be able to ask somebody first.”