Home At Last Chance (Last Chance #2)(40)
Author: Hope Ramsay

“Do you have any comment about the apparent shake-up at National Brands? And do you think this is because of what Arnold Simons wrote on his blog this week?”

Tulane should have expected this question. But he’d been too busy thinking about Sarah.

“I’m not aware of any shake-up at National Brands, and I have no comment about Arnold Simons’s blog.” Tulane clamped down on his back teeth so he wouldn’t do something stupid like tell the reporter where she could shove her microphone.

In the next instant, Jim Ferguson materialized beside him, his face grim. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he said in his slow Texas drawl, “I can assure you our relationship with National Brands has not changed. The decision to recall their sponsor liaison is a staffing decision and nothing more.”

Every nerve ending in Tulane’s body jangled. Sarah had been recalled? What the hell.

Five new questions were hurled in Jim’s direction, but he smiled and said, “I have no further comment.” Then he grabbed Tulane by the upper arm and pointed him in the direction of the team hauler. Five minutes later, Tulane found himself in the hauler’s cramped sitting room, facing the serious faces of Jim Ferguson, Sam Sterling, and Doc Jackson.

“What’s all this crap about Sarah being recalled?”

Jim cleared his throat. “This morning, Deidre asked to have one of our security people escort Sarah from our building. I gather Deidre was upset about something Sarah wrote, but I don’t know all the details. A little later Steve Phelps showed up and sent Deidre back to New York on the company jet. Steve has assured me that our sponsorship with National Brands is going to be extended another year. But the car seat safety program has been canceled.”

“But—” Tulane started to get up and Sam pushed him down in his seat. “You need to keep calm, boy. You just won the pole. The best thing is to just ignore the crap and focus on driving.”

“Jim, can I borrow your phone? I need to talk with Deidre.”

“Are you sure?” Jim asked.

Tulane nodded. “I need to know the truth.”

Jim pulled his cell phone from his pocket. “Before you call her, I want you to remember one thing—in this business you have to roll with the corporate punches.”

“Right.” Tulane found Deidre in the contacts list and pushed the call button.

“Jim?” Deidre answered.

“No, it’s Tulane Rhodes. Why was Sarah fired?”

“Because she’s a lying, conniving, heartless person.”

This described Deidre, not Sarah. “What did she do, aside from keeping my secrets from you for the last few months?”

“Kept your secrets? Ha, that’s a laugh. She kept secrets from you. Like the fact that she wrote the memo that put you in the pink car.”

“What?”

“Everything was her idea—even the baby-changing races. I’ll send you the memo. In fact, I’ll send you all the memos—even the one that explains why you’re more valuable to National Brands wearing pink than any other color.”

His body went numb.

Deidre continued, “She put Steve Phelps’s name on her first memo. I was fooled by that. I thought she wanted revenge, but now I’m certain that she and Steve are in it together.”

“In what together?”

“They set us both up. We fell for their car seat safety gambit like a couple of rubes.”

“The car seat, what?” Tulane asked.

“Sarah knows how to research. She discovered you and I have something in common. And she used it.”

“Used what?”

There was a long pause on the other end of the phone before Deidre spoke again. “Fifteen years ago, I was in a car accident. My two-year-old daughter’s car seat wasn’t compatible with the car’s restraint system, and she died in the crash. Sarah found out about that. And she found out about your niece. She played us, Tulane.”

Tulane connected with the sudden emotion in Deidre’s voice. “Oh, God. I’m so sorry.”

“She and Steve Phelps used our interest in starting a car seat program to undermine me with the Board of Directors. First she suggested the program; then she made me look like a crazy woman for pursuing it. I’m going to lose my job over this.”

The cold that seized Tulane turned lethal. He didn’t think he would ever feel warm again. Anger was not the word for this. It was something else. Something he had no name for.

The bullies had just struck again.

But Sarah couldn’t be a bully, could she? He wanted to trust her. But he also knew that Sarah was a capable and devious liar.

She had lied to Deidre for weeks. She had lied about her father.

He’d been free-falling without knowing it. But he knew it now. Hitting the ground hurt. Bad.

He said good-bye and handed Jim the cell phone. Sam slapped him across the shoulders. “Son, take my advice. Find yourself a nice little Southern girl next time.”

After that, Sam, Doc, and Jim didn’t give Tulane any time to think. They escorted him to his mobile home, where the No. 57 Team had organized a party to celebrate winning the pole position for Sunday’s race.

Thank goodness Lori Sterling had brought plenty of rum punch.

Chapter 19

When Sarah finally walked into her temporary apartment, the immensity of what had happened hit her like a slap across the face.

She was a failure. They had even taken away her corporate-issued BlackBerry and laptop, which meant she had no one’s contact information. She couldn’t even make travel arrangements without finding a pay phone.

Even if she had been able to contact an airline, where was she going to go?

Back to New York? Her apartment in Brooklyn was sublet through November, the end of the racing season.

Back to Boston? Her parents were not currently speaking with her, since they hadn’t forgiven her for behaving like a slut.

So without a laptop, phone, or future, she sat on her couch like a zombie until around five o’clock, when her doorbell rang.

She experienced a moment of wild hope, which was utterly dashed when she opened the door to find Steve Phelps standing on the other side.

He was handsome, in a preppie, frat-boy kind of way, with his blond hair hanging over one of his half-mast blue eyes. He looked all Madison Avenue in his buttoned-down, Polo-logo oxford shirt and gray slacks. He’d ditched his jacket and tie, but he appeared to be carrying Sarah’s laptop case.

“I’ve come to take you back,” he said.

“Back where?”

He snorted a laugh and sauntered into her apartment. “Back into the fold, Sarah.” He stopped and gave the living room the once-over. “I see National Brands spared no expense with their housing allowance.” As usual Steve’s sarcasm was dripping all over the place.

He settled onto the couch, leaned back, and cocked one leg over the other. “So, you got anything worth drinking in this place?”

Did he expect her to be his servant? Or was he trying to make her feel small because she didn’t keep beer in her refrigerator?

“I have water,” she said with all the puritanical dignity she could muster.

He let go of a sigh. “Look, Sarah, you’re a smart woman, so lose the attitude and sit down.” He pointed to the facing easy chair.

He was kidding, right? She had attitude? Maybe she should actually display some and employ the profanity Tulane had taught her. It was an enticing thought. On the other hand, the quickest way to get the jerk out of her apartment was to play by his rules.

And after he left, she could shower off the slime.

She sank into the easy chair.

He smiled like the proverbial evil nemesis. “David Ahearn disapproves of your methods, but he’s very impressed with your research abilities and your hardhearted business sense. David thinks you’re a player.”

“What?” A frisson of surprise and shock shuddered through her. “David Ahearn doesn’t have the slightest idea that I exist. I’m a peon.”

“Not anymore, thanks to me. In fact, your memo on the Penny Farthing negotiations has definitely improved your cachet. I’m sorry David wasn’t more amused by it, but he was very impressed. And in my experience, impressing a CEO is way better than amusing one of them.”

“What memo on the Penny Farthing negotiations?”

Steve cocked his head. “Deidre didn’t explain why she fired you? You didn’t ask?”

“She said she was angry about the memo. I assumed she was angry about the pink car memo. Although, to be honest, I couldn’t quite understand why she would be that angry about a memo that has been selling diapers like mad.”

The snarky smile remained plastered on Steve’s face as he unzipped the computer case and pulled out some papers stapled at the corner. “You need to read this.”

She took the papers and began to read, her heart rate climbing right into the stratosphere with every word.

When she finished, she felt like she might be sick. “Deidre had a kid who died in a car wreck? How did you find that out? And how did you get these numbers about the Penny Farthing deal?” The numbers were accurate, but they were dated. Deidre had done a masterful job in negotiating down the license fees for use of the cartoon character. That memo with Sarah’s name on it was misleading—and completely nasty.

Steve shrugged. “I have friends in the IT department. I hacked Deidre’s computer.”

“Deidre really believes I wrote this crap?”

Steve leaned back into the couch pillows. “Oh, yes. She does. Don’t you think that’s fabulous? I mean, no one gets the drop on the Dragon Lady. But you did.”

“I did nothing of the kind.”

“Hmm, that’s true. But then again, I’m not the one who dreamed up those baby races. Kind of evens up the score and puts us back into the same boat, doesn’t it?”

Sarah shot him her best dirty look.

“Oh, c’mon, Sarah, quit looking at me that way,” Steve said. “David Ahearn thinks you rock. He thinks you have the potential to be another Dragon Lady. And since the old Dragon Lady is… well… a little off her rocker…”

“David Ahearn thinks I’m a Dragon Lady?” Her voice sounded small and insignificant.

“Well, not yet, but you have potential. He told me that you needed to get out of the library.”

She stood up and paced to the window and looked out onto the parking lot and the suburban scene beyond. “You came to give me my job back?”

“Yes. And no. I don’t want to give you a job in the research department or as the sponsor liaison to Ferguson Racing. I want you on my marketing team. But there are rules.”

“Ah, rules.” Weren’t there always.

“Your job is to make me look brilliant. You’ve already done a good job of that. And in return for making me look brilliant, I will take care of you and make people afraid of you. Oh, and you’ll get a lot more money.”

“You trust me that far?” She turned around and stared at him.

He gave her one of his phony innocent-me looks. “Sarah, please don’t make me laugh. We both know you have no talent for nasty corporate games. But you do have a talent for marketing. Together, we’re a team made in Heaven.”