Free I'll Be Your Everything by J.J. Murray Page A

You just missed him.”
    I blink. He just met with ... Tom. How could I have just missed Tom when he’s supposedly on a plane to Detroit? Or did I just pass him while I was coming here? Was he ever even going to get on a plane? He’s obviously still in the city. What is he up to? I stealthily look around the restaurant just in case, which is stupid because I don’t even know what Tom looks like!
    “So it’s kind of like a competition,” Mr. Peterson says. “You like competition, Miss Ross?”
    “Yes sir.” Just not competitions with no chance of winning. Harrison Hersey and Boulder is Goliath and I’m David. And now that Tom is involved, geez, I’m compromised! He’s my friend! Who lied to me today. What’s up with that?
    “I don’t normally do business this way, you understand,” he says, “but the missus thinks that with our retirements coming up, we need to protect ourselves, capitalize a little more on our investments before we hand over the company to our sons.”
    “I couldn’t agree more, Mr. Peterson. It’s always wise to keep your options open.”
    He takes a bite of his steak and chews for a moment. “I’m kind of taking bids for service,” he says while he’s chewing.
    Corrine would have a cow and call Mr. Peterson “a dreadful, nasty man.”
    “I’m not afraid to spend money to make money, you know,” Mr. Peterson continues, “but if MultiCorp can sell my bikes better than Harrison Hersey and Boulder and cheaper—and on time—why, I’ll be very happy, you understand?”
    “I understand completely.” He wants bang for his buck.
    A waitress comes over. “May I get you anything, ma’am?” “No, thank you,” I say. I couldn’t eat a thing right now!
    “It’s on me, Miss Ross.”
    I shake my head. “I’ve already eaten.” On a whim, I say, “So I’ll be fussing with Tom Sexton.” I can’t believe I just said “fussing”! It has to be Mr. Peterson’s accent. I always let my hair down in the presence of good, southern English.
    “Where are you from?” he asks.
    “Salem, Virginia.” Oh shoot. If he checks up on Corrine’s background, I’ll be sunk!
    “Thought I heard a little twang in your voice.” He takes a sip of iced tea. “Yep, you’ll be going up against Tom Sexton. Ever hear of him?”
    I blink. “Um, yes sir.” But Tom’s supposed to be on a plane to Detroit and then he’s supposed to get on another plane to Australia to go scuba diving with Corrine. Wait a minute. Tom was just here, maybe in this very chair, so he obviously has no intention of going to Detroit. Or he is going to Detroit only later today. What was he calling to tell Corrine? And why didn’t he tell her about this?
    “Miss Ross?”
    Oh yeah. I have a meeting. I look up. “I know him well, Mr. Peterson.” Okay, not as well as I’d like to know him. I mean, we’ve only been talking together on the phone for five years! “He’s very good at what he does.” And I sometimes unwittingly help him because I let my ideas just ... go. And what about that? I just helped him with something he needed for Detroit, so maybe he doesn’t have to go to Detroit? What is going on?
    “They say he’s a tough nut, a real sharpie,” Mr. Peterson says. “I hope you’re sharper than he is.”
    I just hope I don’t run into him! “I won’t let you down, Mr. Peterson. How should we proceed?”
    “Well, I’ll be back up here two days before Thanksgiving.” He smiles. “Freda, that’s my wife, she’ll be accompanying me. She’s always wanted to visit here. Never got around to taking her. And then, you and Mr. Sexton will put on a show for us. Mr. Sexton has already graciously offered one of the conference rooms at Harrison Hersey and Boulder for the meeting. Is that acceptable?”
    That isn’t fair! But you just can’t shout something like “That isn’t fair!” to a potential client. “I could also make the same offer, Mr. Peterson.” Which isn’t going to happen because I don’t