by Kade Charest
“Cedric was self-indulgent, but he had some intelligence,” Charlie explained. “For instance, he knew to look and see that he could actually fire the trustees before acting impulsively. He also had the forethought to re-up their contracts and have them signed before he put the firing through. He explicitly outlined that they were not to go to the press or they would lose any compensation for their years of service as well as be sued.”
Yes, if a Preston knew anything, it was how to avoid bad press.
“So hire them back,” Taylor insisted. “Hire the board back. Get them to turn it around.”
“It’s not that simple, Taylor.” Charlie said, shaking his head. “Even if the money was available to get all the members back, we need you.”
“Why?” she asked, panicked. “I-I don’t know anything about business or running a corporation. I can’t be any help to—”
“There is a binding decree set out that Preston Corp. must be run by a Preston,” Charlie said wearily, pinching the bridge of his nose.
Taylor felt her eyes bulge. “So change the goddamn decree,” she finally said through her teeth.
“We can’t, Taylor,” Charlie said in a desperate, soft voice, and his shoulders sagged in defeat. His fingers came up and started rubbing his brow, “We’ve tried. It has been reevaluated and signed by each succeeding member that has taken it over, lastly by Cedric. It is binding.”
Unreal, Taylor thought. This could not be happening. “How can a piece of paper be so strong? Huh? How? Rip the fucker up. I cannot and will not run Preston Corporation,” Taylor sneered and turned back to the window, to the twinkling lights below.
“Then the company will be dissolved, everything will be sold, and every employee will be fired,” Charlie said flatly.
Taylor whipped back, her dark curls hitting her face and her glasses sliding down her nose from the motion. “What?” She gasped in disbelief.
Charlie nodded as he stepped toward her, hands in his pockets. “The decree, which was created by your great-great-grandfather, states that if there is no one in the line who can run the organization, it is to be dissolved and no longer known as Preston Corporation,” he explained. “If you are unwilling to take on the leadership role, the company will be sold and all employees terminated prior to any sale.”
Taylor closed her eyes, sank into the banquette seat, and leaned her head back against the leather headrest. Her dark curls bounced into her face, but she left them there.
Of course there was a decree, of course. And of course it stipulated that all employees were to be terminated—the people for whom Preston Corp. was a livelihood. That just raised the guilt factor for Taylor. As if the economy wasn’t bad enough, now she was sentencing people to living in their cars if she didn’t claim her horrible birthright.
Her heart beat faster, her breathing hitched, and Taylor realized she was crying. “Fuck,” she muttered through her tears. And suddenly she had a moment of clarity. Sliding her fingers under her glasses, she wiped her eyes and sat up, setting her sights on Charlie, who was looking grim and concerned.
“So, I am supposed to run a company that has been run into the ground because if I don’t, people will lose their jobs, right?”
Charlie nodded, appearing relieved that Taylor finally understood.
“But if Cedric spent it all, then how the hell am I going to keep them employed anyway?” she asked sarcastically.
The relief left Charlie’s face and, if it were possible, he looked even more stressed than he had just moments before. “There is still money coming in, but things have fallen into disrepair. That is one of the biggest issues, and we do need further income for that. Cedric was diverting that money to himself instead of putting it toward repairs and remodels before he fired the board.”
“Well, wasn’t he just a crafty coyote,” Taylor muttered, leaning forward. “But that still does not answer the question of what the hell I am supposed to do to keep this company going and how to repair it without any money.” Taylor swiveled her hands in an okay-let’s-get-on-with-it motion. “So what’s the plan?”
Taylor noticed that both Charlie and Todd visibly tensed. She rolled her eyes skyward. God, how much friggin’ worse could this get?
Silence surrounded them for several seconds, and Taylor could take it no longer. “What?” she asked sharply.
“Well … we need to acquire funding for all the things—”
Taylor had a sudden epiphany, “Wait, why aren’t we just selling all the crap Cedric bought? Why aren’t we getting the funds that way?
“Because he was a moron,” Todd said quickly.
Taylor looked to Todd. “That is the smartest thing you have ever said. Care to elaborate?”
Todd just looked disgusted. “He bought everything as himself, good old Cedric Preston. He had no middleman or pseudonym. People saw him coming from a mile away, and they raised prices beyond market value, seeing only dollar signs.” Todd shook his head as he reiterated the tale to Taylor. “And dumbass Cedric questioned nothing, just bought. Even if we sold everything, we would never recoup all the losses.”
Wow, even Taylor knew you shouldn’t do that. Walt Disney used fake investors to buy the land for Disney World, , so the prices wouldn’t be driven up because of his name, for crying out loud. It was Billionaire 101.
“But his purchases were not all bad,” Charlie cut in. “When investors and holders saw him buying, and spending, they assumed things were going well, and stocks rose slightly. All the questions about how well we were really doing stopped coming. So to rush out and sell his, uh, acquisitions and such would cause commotion that Preston Corp. just cannot afford.”
Taylor was baffled, “Hasn’t his death caused commotion as it is?”
Charlie and Todd looked at each other quickly and then at the floor.
Taylor had a light-bulb moment. “Let me guess, no one knows?”
The silence that followed was all the answer she needed.
“What did he do?”
“Overdose,” Todd explained.
“Yeah, well that figures,” Taylor muttered to herself. Cedric was so selfish he would die making sure he got himself the highest of all. “When?”
Todd looked at his watch, “About ten hours ago, give or take.”
Taylor’s eyes widened. They hadn’t wasted anytime. “So, where is he, and who else knows?”
“He’s on ice,” Todd quipped.
“In a private morgue,” Charlie added more eloquently. “Only Todd and I know his whereabouts. Well he, I, and two others.”
“And the two other people would be …?”
Charlie looked to Todd, who nodded to him, and then Charlie took another deep breath before he continued. “You see, Taylor, Preston Corp. cannot continue on without money to fix errors in the way it has been run. We need money to fix buildings, and make updates, we need …”
“How much?” Taylor asked, rubbing her temples, trying to process all of this. To think that this morning she had been worried about whether or not she had brewed regular in the decaf coffee station. Damn, that stress was like heaven to what she felt right now. “How much do we need?”
“More than you have in your trusts,” Charlie said, answering both the spoken and unspoken questions.
It was worth a shot, Taylor mused to herself. “Okay, then, how much do we need?”
“Approximately 189 million dollars.”
Taylor gawked at him. “Oh my God.” That was insane. “How do we get that kind of money? Do we go to a bank? Or a lot of banks?” This was exactly why she did not belong running a company, Taylor thought, she had no idea how to handle something like this.
“No,” Charlie answered quickly, “word of this cannot get out. Going to banks will make the public lose confidence in Preston Corp. Public opinion is already dwindling, and if this gets out, it will make any confidence we still have disappear—and that would be near impossible to repair.”
Taylor nodded, taking it all in. Th
at made sense, she couldn’t help people keep their jobs if no one would do business with the corporation, and business dealings would be gone if anyone found out they were broke. “Okay, so is there a plan?”
“Yes,” Charlie said softly, hesitantly. “There is a company who is willing to assist with financing.”
Taylor took a second to evaluate the two men before her. “Okay,” she said slowly, hesitantly. “Who?”
“Fletcher Enterprises.”
In the same second that Charlie answered, Todd knocked on a door in the back of the plane. She really had forgotten how big this freaking plane was. There was a whole suite behind them, and after the knock from Todd, it opened and out walked two men. Simon Fletcher and his son Derrick stood before Taylor now.
The thought Oh God, no ran laps around Taylor’s mind. She knew she was gawking, but she could not compose herself.
“Hello, Taylor,” Simon said, breaking the silence. He reached out a hand and touched her cheek. Taylor noticed he had a cane, and he was thinner than when she had seen him about seven years ago. “You look different,” he said, smiling, taking in her wild hair and glasses.
Taylor’s eyes cut between father and son, and her breath caught in her chest. She had not seen Derrick in just as long as his father, except for the times his gorgeous face graced magazine covers or tabloids left around the coffee shop. She and Derrick had been close once, and then, well, they just weren’t anymore.
“Hi, Tay,” Derrick said quietly, a small smile on his perfect lips. He stood behind his father and made no move to come closer. It both infuriated and relieved her.
Taylor took in a deep breath. She needed to keep a clear head. She had business to handle.
She looked up to Simon, “Hi, Simon,” she said, and the quake in her voice was repulsive to her own ears. Clearing her throat, she tried again, “So, your company is willing to help Preston Corp.?”
Simon’s eyes softened as they looked at Taylor. “Yes, yes we are, Taylor.”
Derrick leaned in and whispered to his father and then nodded to a chair. Simon nodded back and sat. It was weird; this was not how their interactions usually went, at least not what she remembered from their past. These two had always been as far apart as possible. Perhaps things had changed; Taylor wondered at the reason behind it.
Charlie interrupted Taylor’s assessment of the interaction. “Todd and I contacted Mr. Fletcher because we knew that the Preston and Fletcher families have always been so close and that they would understand,” he explained. “We have been in discussions on how we can keep Preston Corp. afloat until we start to turn a significant profit, make the necessary repairs, and reinstate a new board of trustees—”
“Hold on,” Taylor said, trying to keep her mind in the present. “This all went down in the last ten hours?”
“Uh no,” Charlie said, swallowing as he chose his next words, but Todd jumped in and answered for him. “There was an obvious decline in the functioning of the corporation under Cedric’s rule. So, no, discussions didn’t begin ten hours ago—planning started months ago.” That made more sense, but Taylor needed to digest this whole conversation later. For now, moving forward was the name of the game, “All right, go on,” she encouraged Charlie, keenly aware of everyone’s gaze on her, especially Derrick’s.
Charlie nodded and started to pace, his familiar meeting pace Taylor had seen dozens of times before when she had gone to meetings with father or grandfather. “Together, Taylor, Fletcher Enterprises, and we have come to see that saving Preston Corporation isn’t just about money. Even with money, once Cedric’s death comes out and you take over, stocks may still plummet.
“But, you see, Taylor,” Charlie continued, “it’s not just about how many businesses Preston Corp. has, it’s also about public perception. Preston Corp. has always been a family-run organization that represents the American dream and services all walks of life. Unfortunately, Cedric dragged that reputation through the mud, and we need to revive it, we need to restore faith, we need to show people that Preston Corp. has not turned into an industry that is turning out spoiled brats with endless spending accounts.”
Well, that was the shittiest motivational speech ever, Taylor decided.
“I don’t get it. I thought you said his buying made people more optimistic.”
“It did, but it’s not enough. Cedric hasn’t actually been seen in public or heard from in about a month. Prior to that, all his, um, handlings were performed via phone, email, or courier. Preston has always been a face-to-face, handshake organization, and that was what your grandfather wanted to perpetuate, even through the electronic age. People like to handle big business the old fashioned way with handshakes, with face to face interaction. The fact that no one has seen a Preston in a month does not present that character to anyone.”
Taylor nodded, Charlie was good at this, and he was selling her. And he was right—her grandfather had wanted it that way, and she would do anything for him “Okay, so what do we need to do?”
“We need to give the public, our supporters, what they want, Taylor,” Charlie’s enthusiasm spilled over. “In order to obtain new clients and more investors, we need to show them we at Preston Corp. still stand behind the same old traditions. We need to draw positive attention.”
Taylor just stared. Charlie was staring at her, and she supposed this was where she said “aha” and pieced everything together, but instead Taylor just shrugged, looking at him for more answers.
“We need you to draw positive attention,” Charlie said, nodding as if that clarified things.
Taylor took a shot in the dark, “So, I need to have meetings face to face, do interviews, and come up with new ideas?” she guessed.
“Well, yes, that’s a start, “Charlie said encouragingly but looking stressed again.
Taylor rolled her eyes in frustration. “Can you just tell me already?” she barked out, restraining herself from shouting.
“We need positive attention Taylor—”
“So you said!” Taylor shouted. “What exactly do you want from me?”
“A wedding.”
Taylor was silent for a beat, and then she blew up.
“What?” she shrieked, jumping from her seat.
Every male recoiled at her response. She was shocked, appalled, furious all at the same time. “What do you want me to do, marry some dude off the street, put us on the cover of People, romanticize us all so that stocks can climb?”
“No,” Charlie said softly.
Taylor exhaled a sigh of relief and closed her eyes. Of course they wouldn’t do that. It was the twenty-first century, and Preston Corp. was a billion-dollar company; well, it had been a billion-dollar company. Of course they had better ideas than marrying her off.
And then Charlie dropped the bomb, “We want you to marry Derrick.”
Taylor’s heartbeat went into rapid, triple-time mode. Her breathing rushed out of control, and things started to go dark. She couldn’t think. Next thing she knew there was calls of concern. She couldn’t answer. Suddenly she felt herself pushed into a chair, and her head shoved between her legs.
“Deep breaths, Taylor. Take slow, deep breaths.” It was Derrick. The sound of his voice so close was too much, and she freaked even more, so she pushed him back. After that, she felt him move away.
Then an internal voice came in; it could have been hers, who knew at that point. But she heard it say, Get yourself together, Taylor, you aren’t a child. Yeah, that’s right, she was an adult. She was Taylor Preston, and she was a twenty-four-year-old woman, and she needed to act like it. So Taylor slowed her breathing down, and things cleared up. And her thoughts did too.
Taylor lifted her head. Her glasses slipped down a bit, and she took them off her face and threw them to the floor. She rubbed her face with both hands and glared at the men in front of her, who all looked concerned, evan Todd.
And just the concern on their faces, like she was a helpless little thing, was her complete und
oing.
“Have you all lost your fucking minds?” she exploded, jumping to her feet. She would not be in a position lower than them, no way. Clearly they were all insane.
They all flinched at her words. Obviously they had expected her to just sit there, be told what to do, and just do it. Like a good girl.
Well, that was not the way it was going to happen.
“Well?”
Still there was no response. She zeroed in on Charlie and Todd. “This was your great idea, this was the brilliant way to save an empire?”
Charlie shook his head, probably as much as to answer her as to clear his head of what was happening before him. “No, Taylor, this wasn’t …”
“This was my idea.”
Taylor turned to the source of the words, and found herself staring at Derrick. “Why?” she said breathlessly.
“His and mine,” his father cut in, standing.
Taylor looked between the two. No further information came through. “Talk, now.” She spat the words at them. She was shaking with fury.
“Taylor,” Simon began softly in the same sales-pitch tone Charlie had used just moments before, “Derrick has a colored past.” He let the statement hang in the air. No one else spoke. No one else moved.
“I fail to see how that impacts this completely irrational idea you have all dreamed up for me.” Taylor replied dryly, still trying to compose herself.
“You see, Derrick has worked very hard to prove he has matured.”
Taylor snorted at that. Derrick had never been mature, and as far as she knew, in recent years he had rarely been sober. Simon gestured at Taylor’s response, “You see? Even you doubt. But he has been unable to sway public and business opinion of himself away from a party-going, spoiled, uninterested heir.”
“And you think if he gets married, people will suddenly see him as Mr. Wholesome?” Taylor guessed, her tone dripping with sarcasm.
“Not think, Taylor. We know it will. There have been polls.”
“You have got to be kidding me,” Taylor said, raising her face to the roof of the plane.
Simon continued, “Polls show if Derrick settled down, got married, and had a family, he would be taken more seriously.”
