Mitch shook his head, displeased to report, “LC Motors and Specialty Foods are both threatening to take their business to one of the Web-based exchanges on the Internet to find alternate transportation if we don’t do as they want.”
If possible, Jack looked even grimmer. “So what are you going to do?” he asked.
Mitch shrugged. “The only thing I can. Order the ship to get under way immediately, with whatever cargo is on it. And then talk to Payton Heyward. See if he’s got a ship we can use for the rest of the cars as soon as they arrive. We ship a lot for both LC Motors and Specialty Foods. We can’t afford to lose either’s business. And that means keeping to the contracted schedule as close as possible.”
Jack shot another long considering look at Lauren before turning back to Mitch.
Mitch knew what Jack was thinking. Jack was thinking he shouldn’t be giving any business to a competitor. Had Mitch not wanted to merge firms with Payton Heyward, he would have agreed. He would have found some other company to handle the cargo rather than do anything to strengthen their chief rival. But he did want to merge firms with Payton, and this was the surest, quickest way to prove that the two powerhouse shipping companies could work together in ways that would benefit—and empower—both.
“You can’t do this on your own,” Jack warned humorlessly at last. “Your father is going to have to sign off on it.”
“If you can find him, I’ll be glad to turn this problem over to him,” Mitch promised. “Until then, I’m going to use my executive powers, as second in command, to do what I have to do to solve the problem.” And the first order of business was to get the loaded ship under way. The second was to find Payton Heyward and get him to cooperate with Mitch in a way Payton had never joined forces with Mitch’s father.
Mitch studied Jack. “Are you with me or not?” he asked.
Jack nodded reluctantly. “I’m with you,” he said. “I just hope you know what you’re doing. ’Cause if you don’t, and this backfires on us in any way, there’s going to be hell to pay.”
“DO YOU HAVE PROBLEMS like this all the time?” Lauren asked as they drove the short distance to the penthouse apartment where Payton stayed during the week, in lieu of commuting back and forth between Charleston and his Summerville estate.
“Unfortunately, nowadays, we do,” Mitch explained, trying not to get too used to having Lauren’s soothing, perfumed presence in the car beside him. He turned to look at her as they waited at a red light, and explained, “It used to be that a shipping company established a regular clientele—these were all usually handshake deals—and then the two stuck together, through good times and bad. If there was unusual weather or some other calamity, it wasn’t a problem. Chiefly because there was nowhere else to turn. Now if something goes wrong, a customer can just switch on his computer, go to one of the auction sites on the Web, post his needs. The customer will start getting bids immediately and will usually find an alternate shipper within twenty-four hours.”
Lauren frowned, looking, Mitch thought, more troubled than someone should who had no interest at all in the family business. “But your family’s company doesn’t do that,” Lauren supposed slowly, her soft tone as sympathetic as her pretty, dark brown eyes.
“No, and neither does your father’s,” Mitch said as the traffic light changed, and he pressed his foot down on the accelerator again. “And that’s beginning to cost us both. And it’s a shame. We should both be doing business on the Web as well as the old-fashioned way.”
Lauren raked her teeth across her lower lip. “Why don’t you do that if it’s something you need to be doing to stay competitive?”
Mitch sighed as he turned into the parking lot and guided his Lexus into a visitor space. “I can’t speak for your father,” he said as he cut the engine and turned to Lauren. “But we haven’t done so yet chiefly because all our container ships are filled to capacity, as is.”
“Then why worry about it?” Lauren asked, getting out of the car before Mitch could get around to help her.
Mitch took her elbow as they headed toward the building entrance. “Because the way the shipping business is conducted is changing, Lauren, and both our companies need to change, too—at least stay ahead of the curve. Otherwise, five years from now both could find themselves out of business.”
Lauren said hello to the uniformed doorman and headed for the elevators at the other end of the elegant marble-floored lobby. “If you merge, will you force some of the auction sites to fold?” she asked.
“No.” Mitch stepped into the elevator behind her, taking in the appealing perfection of her skin. “Although statistically about half will fail on their own, anyway, due to poor plans, etcetera. But we will make ourselves stronger, bigger, more competitive. And that’s what both Deveraux and Heyward shipping companies need to do if we’re to keep growing,” he said, looking deep into her eyes and trying to determine once again if he could trust her as much as his gut told him he could.
“I guess you’re right,” Lauren commiserated as she leaned against the railing that lined the back of the elevator and looked up at him. “Whether we like it or not, business—any kind of business—is tough. To stay on top, you really have to be on your toes all the time, not just between the hours of nine to five.”
Like now? Mitch wondered, excruciatingly aware this problem had conveniently happened during the hours of his first arranged date with Lauren, at a time when his father was oddly, and unusually, out of touch with the office.
His instincts kept telling him it was all just a coincidence.
Bitter experience, and his involvement with his ex, told him to be on guard for something more complex and deviously underhanded.
“WHY WOULD I HELP bail you out?” Payton asked, after he had let them both into his apartment. He looked just as suspicious as Mitch felt when Mitch had first learned of the problem.
Excruciatingly aware that although the two of them were tentatively discussing a merger, they were still chief competitors, and not in any way bound to do favors for each other that would hamper their own capacity to do business, Mitch looked Payton straight in the eye. “Because Deveraux Shipping Company will pay you to ship those cars as soon as they arrive at dawn tomorrow morning. And I know you have more shipping capacity than you need right now, thanks to the purchase of those brand-new, state-of-the-art container ships you bought last spring.”
Payton studied Mitch with something akin to respect while Lauren waited nervously nearby. “We’ll get the full fee?” Payton ascertained.
Mitch nodded, knowing now was where it would get particularly tricky, and said, “Minus a ten percent referral fee, of course.” After all, he reasoned practically, Deveraux Shipping had to make something on the deal. Given how thin their profit margins were these days, the lost revenue was going to be hard enough to absorb as it was.
Payton sipped the vanilla-flavored protein shake he had been preparing when they arrived. Despite the way he was dressed—in a golf shirt and slacks—he remained the hard-edged businessman. “That’s highway robbery,” he growled.
“It’s also business you wouldn’t have if I weren’t putting it in your lap.” Mitch took a drink of his own smoothie and found it disgustingly bland and chalky. With effort, he kept from grimacing, even as he noticed Lauren had simply put hers aside. But then, maybe she’d had one of these vitamin-laced health concoctions before. “You don’t have long to decide,” Mitch continued. “If you can’t help me, I’ll go to the next shipping company on my list.”
Lauren crossed her legs and continued to watch the byplay between the two men. She might say she hadn’t the least enthusiasm for the family business, but there was no doubt she had understood and latched on to every word that was being said, both here and earlier, in the Deveraux