Trisha nodded. “That’s good to know…”
The man smirked. “Don’t let Dante promise you the world one night and leave you the next!”
“Oh, my Playboy days are long gone, Mr. Bigelow,” the biker turned CEO replied, holding Trisha’s hand in his own. “I think I’ve found someone who can make me happy and set me on the right path.”
“Well, I hope the right path makes both of us a lot of money,” he laughed, cackling like a hyena. Some of the other people attending the event turned and stared. Trisha felt like she had been caught with an embarrassing relative at a crowded theme park. “I got some meetings to take care. I’ll make sure to drop by the Black Hounds booth, especially now that your uncle is there.”
The biker’s eyes widened at shock at the revelation. It took every bit of willpower for Dante to shake the man’s his hand. “Thanks again for hosting us, Mr. Bigelow.”
Trisha forced herself to smile as well. “It was a pleasure, Mr. Bigelow.”
“Your uncle is here?” Trisha probed, sharing his expression of disbelief. “You never said anything about that.”
“That was not part of the plan,” Dante replied, cursing under his breath. “He was supposed to lie low while we did our work. We have to get to the Black Hounds booth right away.”
Trisha followed Dante through the crowds. Looking around, she saw that the other guests were watching them. Unused to the attention, Trisha turned to Dante. “That Mr. Bigelow is quite a character…”
“He comes with the territory,” the man sighed. “Five years ago, I would’ve told him to fuck off so I could enjoy the vehicles at the show. Now, I’m negotiating booth space with him.”
The farm girl placed her hands to her side. “Look at you, acting all grown up and negotiating deals.”
Before Dante could retort, they were interrupted by sight of Uncle Cass regaling a crowd at the Black Hounds exhibition. The aging man wore a suit as he stood at the forefront booth. He looked like a preacher saying his sermon to his congregation.
“I didn’t just find God when I paid penance for my crimes,” he said to the gaggle of reporters. Trisha was reminded of the televangelists she saw on television. “I found my true purpose. It was to help the Black Hound motorcycle company.”
A reporter probed his sincerity. “Do you believe you can make amends for your crimes?”
“The only way I can right wrongs is to help the next generation learn from my mistakes,” he stated before turning to face Dante. “Why if it isn’t my nephew? He’s been like a son to me. This young man supported me through thick and thin while I paid my penance. He’s been a pillar of strength in the darkest times of my life. It’s great to see you, Dante. Come on here!”
“Likewise,” Dante grumbled, giving the man an awkward hug. “Could we talk in private-“
“And if it isn’t the lovely woman who has made him turn a new leaf,” Uncle Cass said, turning to Trisha. The man worked his charm on the crowd like an old pro. “I don’t believe we’ve formally met Ms. Kaplan. I’ve heard much about your whirlwind romance with my nephew.”
The farm girl decided to play along before she did something embarrassing. “Nice to meet you.”
Taking charge, Dante led his uncle away by the shoulder. “If you excuse us, we have some business to discuss.”
The cameras continued to lock their crosshairs on them. However, they were out of earshot. Trisha watched at the press kept their distance but eyed them with interest. She felt a shiver down her spine when she realized how much her world had changed.
“Look at the crowd I’ve gathered,” he said gesturing to a very lively booth. “I told the crew stories about the old days before the press-”
“Uncle Cass, what are you doing here?” Dante asked. His respect for his elders keeping his temper under control. “You were supposed to lay low… not play games with the media!”
“It got their attention didn’t it?” Uncle Cass said rather smugly. “Now, you’ll have every camera in the room on your machines. More important, all eyes are glued to your fairytale romance.”
Trisha had to admit they were now the belle of the ball. A large screen at the top of the convention showcased several live feeds from various parts of the tradeshow. About half them were focused on the Black Hounds exhibition. A few feeds were showing the three of them from the distance.
Dante wasn’t as amused. “This could have blown-up in your face.”
“I’ve been a master showman as long as I can remember,” the older man said, folding his arms. “I’m a better asset out in the field than as some silent partner at a boardroom. Besides, look at them… they were practically eating out of my hand!”
“We’ll talk later,” Dante sighed. Trisha saw a look of deep concentration on his face. She knew he was recalculating the plan. “Just don’t make too much of a commotion or else Lucia will have both our heads.”
Uncle Cass gave the two a brilliant smile. “I’ll let you two lovebirds be. You have a big night ahead of you.”
With that, the two couple walked deeper into the convention. An entourage of press members followed them but kept their distance. Trisha was unsure of what to do. She looked at Dante for guidance. However, he seemed just lost as she was.
“It’s like he never stopped being sergeant-at-arms,” Dante mused under his breath. “Lucia wanted him as just a ceremonial director but the man wants to do more. He was an advisor to my late father… now he’s my advisor.”
“Wait, your dad was the younger brother, right?” Trisha asked, a question appearing in her head. “How come he got to be club president while your uncle was just sergeant-at-arms? Don’t motorcycle clubs practice primogeniture like European royalty? That’s assuming I’m getting my motorcycle club succession rules right.”
“Uncle Cass always seemed like perfect club president material,” Dante began. “However, my grandfather choose my father. He thought a younger, less hot-tempered leader could do a better job leading the club as its president.”
“Your uncle didn’t mind getting passed over?”
“Nah, Uncle Cass always preferred to be out fighting. He’d hate to be sitting at the club house and doing paperwork.”
Trisha giggled. “Motorcycle clubs do paperwork?”
“They also like getting hammered before noon,” Dante said with grin. He took Trisha by the hand. It made her feel safe in such an alien environment. “Speaking of which, let’s get some alcohol in us.”
The two descended upon the open bar. A sign cautioned guests to drink responsibly. It seemed strange for such an event to have free liquor but Dante told her it wasn’t that unusual. The security was strict enough to keep anyone from starting any trouble. Trisha couldn’t think of the last time she treated herself out for a drink. Or two. Or three.
The press continued to follow them and take photos of the couple. One of them even wanted to talk to Dante but he refused. He wanted to spend more time with her.
Curiously enough, the bar was located adjacent to a booth featuring various farm vehicles. She saw several tractors she had used for her business. There was even an honest to goodness combine. Only the largest and richest farms could afford some of the higher-end equipment.
Most of the vehicles on display lacked any sort of pricing information. Nonetheless, Trisha knew they were out of her price range. Then again, her agreement with the Black Hounds had revitalized her finances.
A voice interrupted her thoughts. “Is your husband interested in one of our agricultural vehicles?”
“No, but I am,” she said offering the man a handshake without correcting him on her relationship with Dante. He seemed to be an attendant at the booth. The farm girl’s eye focused on the shiny, expensive looking tractor behind him. She was in her natural habitat. “Trisha Kaplan, Foxtail Farms. Is that the new Kingston Type-D?”
The man was pleasantly surprised at her knowledge. “You know your tractors, ma’am. Tell me, what do you think of the Dyson 32A? It’s
been building up a lot of buzz at this event.”
“It’s got a lot to live up to,” she answered coolly. “The 30A was the Cadillac of tractors. It had such a great build and work rate.”
One of the members of the press came up to her and placed a recording device near her face. “Ms. Kaplan, what are your thoughts on product recall of the recently released 31A?”
“I never used one but a few of my neighbors had issues with it,” she answered. “It lost everything that was good in the 30A just to shove in gimmicks like a GPS and a stereo system. The fact that it didn’t have an independent suspension system didn’t help matters. The thing was more of an over designed showpiece than a tractor. It must’ve been tested in a lab instead of a field with uneven terrain.”
Another member of the press queried her. “Has there been any design that impressed you?”
“I had always been a big fan of my father’s old Kingston Type A,” she answered without skipping a beat. Trisha was in her home turf and conversation came naturally to her. “It handles like a pig in the mud but it was reliable as hell. At the end of the day, all the handling in the world doesn’t matter if the thing doesn’t have the decency to start up. We just had to change the oil and get it checked up every year. It lasted us ten years and it still keeps on going. I wouldn’t be surprised if it outlived us all.”
The press member continued to probe. “Would you say Kingston reached their peak with the Type A? The recent Type C hasn’t been reviewing very well.”
“I’d say if Kingston made a better tractor, then they’ve kept it for themselves.”
It elicited laughter out of the crowd. Trisha joined on in them. She saw Dante standing to the side of the booth and smiling. He walked over to her and kissed her on the cheek. “It looks like you’re having fun.”
The farm girl blushed as he led her away. “Sorry, I just got carried away.”
“You spoke like an old pro,” Dante, pride in his words. He guided her to a corner of the booth where they could have some privacy. “Listen, I’ll to bail on you but only for an hour.”
She nodded. “Okay, you have to meet with Mr. Bigelow again?”
“No, I got a big interview lined up for me with Auto-Enthusiast, one of the biggest automobile websites on the internet,” he answered. “They’ll live stream it on the internet. A lot of eyeballs are going to watch it. You can even watch it one of those big televisions at the top.”
“Sounds exciting.”
“It’s really not,” he said, an uncharacteristic nervousness in his voice. “The host is Malcolm Douglas. He’s the head editor at Auto-Enthusiast. He’s been critical of the Black Hounds ever since he went into designing motorcycles. It got worse when Lucia went into an interview with him and ended up walking out halfway through it. Let me tell you, it says a lot when my sister gets pissed off at you.”
“Do you think you can cancel it?” Trisha asked. “It would be better than risking a disaster.”
“No can do,” he replied adamantly. “It won’t look good if I give the impression that I’m dodging interviews. Lucia’s coached me through speaking with Douglas… I should be alright.”
She planted a soft kiss on his cheek. “Break a leg, Mr. Alastair.”
The biker turned CEO chuckled. “Lucia will break both of my legs if this night doesn’t end well.”
He left her alone to congregate with the rest of the convention’s attends. Nevertheless, she found it difficult to converse with people when agriculture was not the subject of the conversation. If they weren’t talking about fast cars, then they were talking about when the next round of free drinks would arrive. The people at the event seemed to speak a different language than the small town girl.
Worse, the people were quite wasteful. She saw uneaten shrimp cocktails and hors d'oeuvres in trash cans. It hurt her to watch people throwaway food.
She knew how difficult it was grow and nurture produce. Every bite was the blood, sweat, and tears of several hardworking people. When she had donated extra produce to the needy, she had seen families that were rail thin. They would go weeks without a decent meal.
Then again, the people here people could afford to throw away food. They were rich and never had to wonder if the next meal would ever arrive. A part of her wanted to leave.
Suddenly, she saw Dante’s face on the large television screen hanging near the ceiling on the convention. Another man sat next to him in a chair. A battalion of media reporters could be seen just off screen.
The host began his questioning. “Mr. Alastair, your motorcycle brand is said to become the next Harley-Davidson. Some believe it to be hyperbolic but so has the rising popularity of your brand been as well. Do you believe there is a kernel of truth in this statement?”
The host was leading Dante into a trap. She had seen used tractor salesmen who used less blatant tactics. Hopefully, her date would be able to maneuver around these loaded questions.
“We just try to make a good product that people want,” Dante replied, grinning boyishly at the screen. Trisha couldn’t help but be impressed. The man new how to make the most of his natural charm. “The rest is up to our customers. We just want to be known as an honest business.”
Trisha heart rang like a bell as she watched the interview. It didn’t beat from fear. Instead, it was from Dante’s words. They seemed so simple yet so true and honest. Their arrangement maybe a charade but that didn’t mean Dante wasn’t sincere about his goals.
“Mr. Alastair, you know I’m not one to throw softball questions,” the host said. “The controversial past of the Black Hounds Motorcycle Club has attracted its fair share attention. Some of it could be problematic for a company that’s about to go public.”
“We have paid our dues to society,” he replied. “However, we never once thought regaining the trust and respect of people would be an easy task. It is something we do every day by winning people over with our products.”
The rough and tumble biker she had a drink with was now an expert businessman. His jeans and leather jacket belied his business acumen. It was as big of a Cinderella makeover as the one she had underwent. Nevertheless, she felt saddened that the man had to hide his less refined side.
“This is quite a change,” the host continued, not pulling any punches. “For both you and your company. You and the Black Hounds have had a less than sterling reputation. It’s attracted its fair share of fans as well as detractors.”
“As the company has grown, so have I,” Dante answered. “I’ll always be the club president of the Black Hounds but I am now also their CEO. We went from a club house designing motorcycles in our garages to a company with three buildings and over five hundred employees. We have grown but we’ve never forgotten our core values.”
“And what values would those be?” the host inquired. “Ten years ago, many would have answered your values were shootouts and armed robbery. In fact, you’ve had your fair share of fist-fights as a teenager, Mr. Alastair.”
“The Black Hounds were founded to give back to the community,” Dante replied, not taking the bait. “We protected our hometown when no one else would. Today, we don’t do it with violence or bloodshed. We do it by making products that help people. Look at our booth on the show floor. We donate vehicles to Humanitarian groups in the Middle East and Africa. We share our R&D’s advances in safety measures with school bus manufacturers without charge. We’re a proud sponsor of Tots and Tires, a charity for disabled children.”
Trisha hung onto every word. It was like a priest saying his sermon. For that matter, the people in the crowds were cheering and applauding the CEO.
“I must admit this is an exciting new direction for both the company and yourself,” the host praised. “You’ve been sighted with a woman on the show floor. She seems to be quite the expert on farming equipment. Is the Black Hound Motorcycle Company thinking of entering the agricultural business? Or is this relationship more personal?”
TRACKING TRISHA - A Black Hounds Motorcycle Club Romance (The Fox and the Hounds Book #1) Page 7
