Chapter Twenty

Shane

It wasn’t hard to fall back into my routine in Houston. Before I knew it, I was scheduled to make an appearance on yet another news station. This time, I would be talking about the explosion and the measures that had been put in place to prevent another incident in the future.

Fiona was still never far from my mind. After the conversation we had the other night, I was semi-hard every time I thought about her or her voice.

It was problematic, since I was about to step in front of the cameras of a news crew who were likely to think that my hard-on was because of the explosion, and that I had some sort of sick perversion. I couldn’t imagine trying to explain that to the board.

I adjusted myself quickly before I had to leave the green room and slid my game face on, pushing Fiona from my mind.

“And here to talk about the explosion on the Perkins rig a few weeks ago, we have none other than Mr. Shane Perkins, current CEO of Perkins Enterprises, to talk us through what happened and what steps, if any, the company will be taking to prevent such a tragedy in future.”

The news anchor was staring right into the camera, then she flashed a predatory grin as she introduced me.

“Thank you, Ms. Currie,” I said, joining her on the deceptively hard sofa on the set.

“So, Mr. Perkins. What an ordeal Perkins Enterprises and the families of your employees have been through. What happened?” She wasn’t pulling any punches, so I didn’t either.

I schooled my features and spoke sincerely into the camera pointed at my face. “It truly has been quite the ordeal, and truthfully, it should never have happened. We’ve been working tirelessly around the clock to ensure that it doesn’t happen again.”

“We’ve been told that some of your equipment failed?” she prodded.

I nodded. “That is correct. The choke to one of the gas busters failed, which meant that the gas couldn’t escape, and that resulted in an explosion.”

“That kind of thing is very rare, isn’t it?” The anchor raised her perfectly manicured brow at me, and pursed her lips in a smirk that told me that she thought she had me dead to rights. She thought I was going to deny it so that she could bombard me with statistics and make me out to be a liar.

“Yes, it is increasingly rare,” I said.

My answer was clearly not what she was expecting to hear. Her jaw dropped ever so slightly, and her eyes widened. She gave an almost imperceptible shake of her head in the direction of the production room.

“So, you could have prevented it?” She took another, entirely expected angle.

“We could have, even though our safety protocols were already above industry standards. As a result of the explosion, though, we have introduced a new safety plan, which doubles almost all measures we have previously taken.”

The anchor leaned forward. “Such as?”

“All inspectors will have to work together in teams of two. One inspector will follow the other and double check every mechanism that is inspected. This will mean that if one person misses something, the other will most certainly pick it up and hopefully, prevent disaster.”

“Should that not have been done in the first place?” The anchor was doing her best to trip me up. Too bad for her, I was prepared for every eventuality.

“Not at all,” I said. “The current regulations do not require it, and no other company implements that strict level of precaution. Perkins Enterprises will be the first. We, as a company, want to be absolutely sure to prevent any future tragedies.”

“There are a lot of people who are saying that, as one of the largest employers in the industry, you only take from people and don’t give anything back. What do you have to say to that?” She smirked, sure that she was about to win at least one round.

She wasn’t.

“I’ve heard the rumors, but I don’t agree with them.”

“Well, there’s a surprise,” she chirped, cutting me off.

I flashed her an indulgent smile, gritting my teeth to keep from snapping at her. “Well, let me tell you why I don’t agree, may I?”

“Of course.” She still wore a self-satisfied smirk, but I was about to wipe it off her smug face.

“Perkins Enterprises is one of the largest employers in the industry. That is true. And that means that a lot of families depend on us. We provide some of the best market-related packages, including medical care and many other benefits that most other employers do not.”

“Well, I think that’s open to—”

It was my turn to interrupt her. “That can be verified by independent and objective data, which I’m sure is all that your network is interested in?” I arched an eyebrow, challenging her silently.

She simply nodded, her eyes darting toward the production room once more. I was sure that they would be scrambling for those statistics. I’d had some of the data I’d compiled scrubbed so that it could be shared, and ensured that my people emailed it to her producer during the course of the show.

“If you’ll ask your producer to brush up on some research, you’ll find what you need to verify what I’m telling you.”

I waited for her to listen to whatever was coming through her earpiece, and then continued when her eyes met mine.

“What’s more is that I’ve also started a charity to benefit not only the employees of Perkins, but the good State of Texas as a whole. It has been incorporated as The Ruth Hall Foundation for Brain Cancer Research, and I’ve personally pledged ten million dollars to it.” I sat back, having said everything that I needed to say.

The anchor’s eyes widened in surprise, and I watched with great amusement as a multitude of emotions flitted across her previously smug features. It was almost laughable watching her trying to come up with another plan of attack on the fly. There were some anchors who might have been able to think on their feet, and I would’ve been prepared for that, too, but she one wasn’t one of them.

“We’ll have to look into that,” she finally stammered.

“Please do. I hope that you’ll be around for a visit as soon as everything is up and running. We would love for the foundation to get the exposure.”

She listened in her earpiece and smiled. The producers must have whispered something good into her ear. “Do you think it’s strange for your company, an oil company, to start a charity for cancer research? Instead of, say, a fund for victims of oil-related disasters or environmental cleanup?”

“That’s an excellent question,” I said, leaning forward. “Our company already has funds set aside to help any employees and their families when it comes to accidents or injuries. But we fund that directly. We don’t run that as a charity. We do that because it’s right. But you wanted to know why cancer?”

She nodded. “Yes, it seems unrelated to your business.”

“It’s very related, although not directly,” I said. “In the past, when my father ran the company, he cared more about the bottom line than about people. But what’s good for profits isn’t what’s good for everyone else.”

“Are you saying that your father did something illegal?” she asked eagerly.

“No, nothing illegal,” I said, shaking my head. “But when another company works closely with us for many years, they come to rely on our business. But often, my father would stop doing business with those companies overnight. And when you pull the rug out from under them like that, their businesses might have to shut down. Putting people out of work and without insurance. And when that happens, people get hurt. I want to make it clear to the world that my father’s business practices won’t be tolerated anymore, and by funding cancer research, I’m hoping to right some of my father’s past wrongs.”

I stood then, signaling that the interview was over as far as I was concerned.

“Thank you, Mr. Perkins,” she said, shaking my hand. Then she announced that the news would be on next.

With one of my hurdles for the day done, I headed back to the office without a backward glance at the still-gaping anchor.

As soon as I was back in my office, I called my assistant. “Justin, get Bart in here, would you?”

I shrugged out of my jacket, hung it over the back of my chair, and loosened my tie. Almost immediately, I felt like I could breathe again. The suit had been feeling like a straitjacket since I’d come back to Houston.

Minutes later, Bart strode into my office and sank into one of my visitors’ chairs without being invited to do so. “What’s up, Shane?”

“What’s up? Aren’t you a little old for that expression, Bart?”

He paled at my tone, shaking his head. “What can I help you with, then?” he asked, his voice tight.

I pushed the folder I’d compiled with all the evidence against him across the desk, then leaned back in my chair. “I think that’s fairly self-explanatory.”

Bart’s eyes nearly popped out of his head when he realized what he was looking at. “Shane, I can explain.”

“No, Bart, you can’t explain. It’s quite simple really. You’re fired.” My voice was completely devoid of emotion as I fired the man who had been at my right-hand side since I’d taken over. The man who had been groomed for the job by my father. The man who had effectively been trying to steal my company from me behind my back.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!” he exploded. “I saved this goddamned company, and you think you can waltz back in here and just fire me? You’re insane. The board won’t have it.”

I kept my cool, even though I was boiling right below the surface. “The board won’t, huh? I’ve already run it by them. Despite your lobbying, the majority remain loyal to me. And do you honestly think it was you who saved this company?”

“It was,” he exclaimed. “It was my fucking idea that kept us from being swept away by this tide. I was one who stayed behind to take care of all this bullshit, while you were off in some hick town fucking some girl and doing nothing for the good of the company.”

“I was doing nothing for the company? That’s what you think?” I was seconds away from erupting. “I went up there to get the papers that allowed us to stay afloat for long enough to formulate your safety plan. And I was part of every single bit of the approval process.”

“You think that dialing into some meetings via the Internet and scanning some old paperwork is what actually saved this fucking place?” Bart gaped at me.

“Maybe not, but it sure as hell beats sitting around, trying to look useful while betraying your boss. Your friend.” I wasn’t able to keep emotion from crawling into my voice at that accusation. Bile rose in my throat at the thought of exactly how much trust I had placed in Bart.

“Those documents aren’t what they look like, Shane. No one knew when you were coming back. No one knew if you’d even be able to step foot in this town, for at least the rest of the year, without being crucified and obliterating all the good work the P.R. team had done. We were just formulating a contingency plan for the next few months, until you came back.” He was pleading now.

I stared daggers at him. I wasn’t falling for such a bullshit excuse. “Don’t you think I recognize a liar when I see one, Burrows? Fuck, man, I am one. Go pack your shit and get out. You have twenty minutes to clear the building. Security is standing by to escort you out, if need be.”

He blanched. The vein in his temple throbbed as he clenched his fists at his sides. “You’re a heartless bastard, just like your good-for-nothing father. You know that?”

It hit me that he was partially right. I was firing him for purely territorial reasons because he was fucking with what was mine. Bart was actually damn good at his job, and he’d done great with the new safety plan but I wasn’t about to admit any of that.

Again, Perkins was mine. I didn’t like sharing what was mine. “I do know that, yes. Now get out of my sight.”

Bart looked like he wanted to reach across the table and rip me limb from limb with his bare hands but his eyes flickered to the security button on my landline, and he settled for flipping me the bird instead.

“This isn’t over, Perkins,” he threatened, storming out of my office.

I felt like shit after Bart left. Watching him leave on the security feed on my computer didn’t leave me feeling as satisfied as I had expected it to. I honestly felt kind of drained. Empty. He had been by my side since day one and knowing that he wouldn’t be right down the hall from then on didn’t sit right with me.

For the first time in my professional life, I was doubting the decision that I had made. On a personal level, all I wanted was to call Fiona.