"Don't hold back, Dar. Tell me how you really feel." Michelle countered. "Don't for a minute think I don't know the timing on that little reveal was exquisitely planned."
Dar merely rolled her eyes, and stepped back, pulling the tarp off the first set of boxes. "You're wasting my time. Here."
Michelle stepped forward and examined the shipping label. She pulled a set of papers out from under her arm and carefully cross checked them, ignoring Dar's lounging presence. Finally, she turned her head and looked up. "Trust me when I tell you there'll be an inquiry on how this shipment ended up in your hands. You better hope your lawyers are up to it."
"Sure." Dar smiled. "They'll be glad to stand up and explain why three false and one true order of yours got dropped off here by a trucker who didn't want to take it down to you because he got called an asshole one too many times. No problem."
Michelle turned around fully. "You know something?"
"Pretty much everything, thanks."
"You're a real asshole."
Dar watched Michelle retreat back toward the door, her entire body seeming to shoot off disgusted anger. "Takes one to know one." She called after the shorter woman. "Better hurry up and get this out of here before I charge you rent!"
At the door, Michelle turned and glared murderously at her.
Dar released a wicked laugh. "You want me to be an asshole? You don't know what you're asking for. Now get those men in here or I'll have the stevedores pack it up and send it back and send you the bill for their time."
The stevedores' boss, who had been sitting on a crate watching the action, gave her a big thumbs up.
Michelle exited and slammed the door behind her. Unfortunately, it was held open by an air compressed automatic closer, and it ended up bouncing back open and smacking her in the rear. She lunged forward, going headlong into two men with a hand cart who had been approaching.
The men leaped back, startled, and made a grab for her, but missed and Michelle fell to her knees between them. They helped her up hurriedly, backing off as soon as she was on her feet and dusting her hands off.
Dar chuckled happily, then sighed. "Damn, where's a camera when you need one?"
KERRY TOOK A moment to get composed before she entered the lighted area around the food table, and approached the reporters. She ran her fingers through her hair and settled it a bit, and then she walked over to the small group and made eye contact with the woman reporter. "Hi."
The woman got caught in mid swallow. Her eyes widened a little, then she finished her mouthful and set her cup down. "Hi." She extended her hand. "Elecia Rodriguez."
"Kerry Stuart." Kerry grasped her hand and shook it. "You wanted to speak to me?" Her tone was soft and slightly husky and she resisted the urge to clear her throat.
"Ah, yes, I did. Thanks." The reporter collected herself. "Is there someplace we can sit down? Not that I mind the ambiance out here, it sure beats standing outside, but..."
"There are some chairs over there." Kerry pointed to an unused corner of the terminal then paused as she heard Dar's voice rise up and send echoes to the rafters. Conversation abruptly cut off in the room.
The reporters turned and stared then Elecia looked back at Kerry. "You sure have one heck of a situation here, don't you?" They all stood listening, but the yell wasn't repeated, and voices started up again around them.
Kerry led them over to the seats and took one, sitting down and crossing her ankles demurely as she tucked her feet under her chair. It was a ridiculous bit of modesty given that she was in faded jeans and scuffed sneakers, but old habits really did die hard sometimes. "What can I do for you, Ms. Rodriguez?"
The reporter sat down and composed herself, removing a pad from her back pocket and a pen from behind her ear. "Okay." She eyed Kerry thoughtfully. "Where do I start with you, Ms. Stuart?"
One of Kerry's blond brows rose. "Excuse me?"
The reporter studied her pad. "There are about ten thousand questions I'd like to ask you, starting with what was it like growing up in Roger Stuart's house, to what is it like getting a tattoo, but I guess I'd have to settle with starting somewhere, and where I'll start is, what exactly are you trying to accomplish with this business here?"
Of all the questions she could have been faced with, at least this one was relatively easy to answer. "We're trying to install and configure a computer network for this ship outside of here, to demonstrate our ability to provide those services across Mr. Quest's fleet and give him the most competitive bid so he'll choose us to do that."
Rodriguez nodded. "Okay." She scribbled a note. "So let me ask you this. Do you do this sort of thing a lot?"
Puzzled, Kerry frowned a little. "Sure." She said. "It's what we do. It's what I do for ILS. Integrate and assist in acquiring new business, among other things."
The reporter scribbled another note. "Fair enough," she said. "So, Ms. Stuart, is this process always like a three ring circus? You must have a very entertaining job."
Kerry sighed. "No, it's not," she said. "Most of the time it's a pretty dry, refined process. Someone contacts me, or our sales department gets a lead, and we do an analysis, then present possible solutions and a price tag. There's some bargaining, then either we get a contract, or we don't."
"Uh huh." The woman mused. "That's pretty much what I thought," she said. "So, tell me about this feud between yourselves, and the folks at Telegenics. Where did that come from? I understand business rivalries, but this seems to go beyond that. True?"
"Well..."
"Here." The reporter removed a folder, and opened it. "I've had my ear chewed off by the people on the other side of that pier all afternoon. They want to bury you in the worst way." She showed Kerry not one, but three pictures.
One was the biker chick, which she expected. The other two were of her and Dar, one at a restaurant down by the beach, the other... in the pool at Disney, kissing.
Kerry inspected the photos. "And?" She gave the reporter an inquiring look. "You want me to rate them, or pick the one for you to use in your story?" She asked. "What exactly does any of this have to do with the business we're doing here?"
"Now, that's exactly what I wanted to know, Ms. Stuart," the reporter said. "It doesn't have anything to do with anything here, and that's why I wanted to talk to you. See, your company has been a part of our community for a long time now, and it's done its share of good works--some crappy works too--but it's done its part in employing a lot of folks in these parts."
"That's true," Kerry agreed quietly. "We try to be good corporate citizens."
"So, then what's behind it all?" Rodriguez asked, shifting a little closer. "You're not unknown to us, Ms. Stuart. My paper's been aware of who you are since you joined ILS."
Kerry merely watched her face, aware at the periphery of her senses that Dar was nearby, and also watching.
"We've chosen, or should I say, my managers have chosen not to focus on you, because your company is pretty darn low key. You just do what you do, pay your taxes, and frankly, bring the city a lot more than you take from it." The woman flipped a page. "So, in sum, when some outside folks start gunning for one of our own, we take exception to it, and we want to know why."
"Why." Kerry mused. "You sure you really want to know why?"
Rodriguez's face suddenly shifted into a faint, mischievous grin. "No. I bet I don't, but we got sent this picture, of you on the bike." She held up the picture. "Now that struck everyone as something that was very, very interesting because not many vice presidents of international corporations get their picture taken like that."