Page 44 of The Money Man
She nodded because her throat was still tight. But the strength of his grip and the warmth of his smile loosened the fist that seemed to squeeze her lungs.
The guard at the scuffed-up lobby desk sent them to the twelfth floor on an elevator lined with fake wood paneling. Alice spent the ride upward trying to remember Derek’s coaching as they stood close enough that his sleeve brushed against hers. Having his big, powerful body beside her brought more comfort. She knew with a bone-deep certainty that he would protect her in the unthinkable event that it became necessary.
The elevator door opened onto a carpeted corridor. The BalanceTrakR logo hung on the wall directly opposite with an arrow pointing to the right. Derek gestured for her to precede him. She squared her shoulders and strode down the hallway with all the false confidence she could project. Behind her Derek murmured, “That’s right. You’ve got this down cold.”
He reached around her to open the glass door that also had the company’s logo painted on it and they surged into a small reception area. An attractive blonde woman sat behind the desk.
“Alice Thurber and Derek Killion to see Mr. Murval,” Alice announced with a pleasant but professional smile. She kept in mind that she represented KRG so she should project a bit of superiority.
“Of course,” the receptionist said with a marked Texas accent. “Please have a seat.”
“No need for that. I’ll be happy to escort them to see Ted.” Alice pivoted to see Myron Barsky advancing toward them with a smile that was far friendlier than hers for the receptionist. He wore almost the same outfit he’d had on at the hotel presentation, although today he had added a droopy tweed blazer over the jeans and white shirt, and his nondescript brown hair had been trimmed a little shorter.
Alice drew in a breath that had a little hitch in it.Showtime.
Myron held out his hand to Alice. “Ms. Thurber. I remember you from my dog and pony show in Cofferwood. You asked the sharpest questions.” His Texas accent was more in evidence today than it had been in New Jersey.
“Please call me Alice,” she said, finding his handshake as limp as the first time. “You convinced several of my clients to buy your package, so I’d say you answered them. I’d like you to meet Derek Killion.”
For a moment, Barsky seemed less like a tech nerd and more like a businessman as he shot an assessing look at Derek, his pale blue eyes opaque. “A privilege,” Myron said, shaking Derek’s hand.
“If you’re the man behind the software, the privilege is mine,” Derek responded, coolly returning Barsky’s evaluating stare.
The programmer lowered his eyes in an exaggerated show of modesty. “I can’t take all the credit. I have a great team working with me.” When he turned to gesture to another door, Alice caught a sly smile on Barsky’s face. “Ted’s waiting for us in the conference room.”
Alice remembered her instructions to gauge whether the premises looked legitimate, but the undistinguished decor could have been in any office anywhere in the country. The signage was professional but it might have been installed that morning for all she could tell. When Myron turned into the second door down the hallway, she still couldn’t judge because the conference room was as bland as the rest of the office with its oatmeal upholstered chairs and matching oatmeal-colored blinds.
However, the man who stood up at one end of the fake-wood-topped table was anything but bland. He wore a yellow, western-style shirt with bright green welting and a bolo tie clasped with a huge chunk of turquoise set in silver. Standing over six feet tall, he must have weighed at least three hundred pounds.
“I’m Ted Murval and I want to welcome you to the great state of Texas,” he boomed, his greeting echoing off the painted walls of the small room. “We’re sure glad you came to see us.”
This was the man who ran an accounting software company for small businesses? Evidently, they had a different dress code for CEOs in Texas.
Myron made the introductions in that odd monotone of his. Maybe it was because he felt awkward socially. When they all sat down around the table where a bottle of off-label water stood at each place, Alice couldn’t help contrasting it with the impressive conference room at KRG.
Derek spoke first. “As you know, KRG hired Alice to evaluate BalanceTrakR for us because she’s a skilled bookkeeper and because we wanted to remain at arm’s length until we were sure of our interest. She brought back an excellent report after her clients had used it for a few months. I’m here to discuss partnering with you to bring this product to some of our smaller, less centralized clients. And possibly to expand its capabilities to serve some larger companies.”
“Well, that’s mighty flattering,” Ted said, leaning back in his chair with a broad smile. He asked a few superficial questions, steering some of the conversation toward Alice. Derek projected the perfect impression of a confident-to-the-point-of-arrogance consultant. He allowed Alice to speak but then was faintly dismissive of her answers. Or changed the wording slightly while saying the same thing. She would have been offended if she hadn’t been privy to his underlying goal.
After a few minutes of this, Ted said, “Myron, why don’t you take the pretty little lady for a tour of our facility while Derek and I talk turkey.”
Alice ignored the chauvinism of Ted’s remark as alarm hollowed out her stomach. She and Derek hadn’t planned to be separated when they’d developed their strategy.
An edge colored Derek’s voice as he said, “I’d be interested in joining the tour as well.”
“After we hammer a few things out,” Ted said. “Then I’ll guide you around myself.”
The muscles in Derek’s jaw tightened visibly. “I guess I can’t turn that down.”
Myron stood, pushed his black-rimmed glasses back into place on his nose, and waved her to the door with an ingratiating smile. Really, how scary could the techno-geek be? But leaving Derek’s comforting presence behind made her feel vulnerable and exposed.
“We’ll start with the help desk,” Myron said, walking farther down the corridor. “I imagine you called in at some point to evaluate that.” He leaned forward to peer into her face.
“I got excellent assistance all three times,” Alice said truthfully.
Myron nodded, his smile widening. “We pride ourselves on keeping our customer support in-house.” He opened a glass door and stood aside so she could enter first. Three rows of cubicles housed about thirty people. All wore headsets and stared at their computer screens, their chatter and keyboards generating a steady hum of noise, so she couldn’t really distinguish separate conversations. The company logo was emblazoned across one wall but everything else was standard-issue office furniture as before. So they had boring taste in decorating. That didn’t mean it wasn’t a real company.
“Is this your whole support staff?” she asked.
