Chapter 6
“We’re not asking for your permanent removal, Easton,” Paul, my CFO, says, his blue eyes shifting left. “Only that you take a two-year hiatus from any substantive role in Fit for the World Enterprises.”
Shocked pain rips through my body, like I just had my balls punted by an NFL kicker. My board is using a video conference call, the equivalent of a text breakup, to oust me from my own company.
I thought this was going to be another slap on the wrist, not an ambush. All eight members of FTW’s leadership, appropriately dressed like they’re headed to a funeral, occupy seats at a long glass table inside my L.A. boardroom.
I’m on the couch in my New York apartment, gaping at them through a television screen that, ten minutes ago, descended from a hidden compartment in my ceiling.
Seated beside me, my attorney and closest friend clears his throat. It takes Stone a second, deeper throat clearing to send his message. I’m supposed to say something. What can I say?
Apologies, restitution, and strict policy changes haven’t worked to satisfy anyone. Guess when you give your fiancée—ex-fiancée now—a job in FTW and she embezzles money by shortchanging several charities, there’s not a lot you can say.
The fallout from Cecily’s actions continues to be an ugly and bitter affair, involving authorities, government reviews, accusations, endless board meetings, lost revenue, hounding press, and my stupid, broken heart.
Shifting forward, I suddenly wish I’d worn something other than my trademark FTW sweatpants and T-shirt. A suit of armor? A brown bag with a shocked face painted on it? A headless chicken costume? Not sure which would’ve been more suitable.
I say, “What happened was my mistake.” Heat engulfs my neck, so hot I’m sure it’s visible. “I own it. As sorry as I am for what happened, I won’t have my own company stolen from me.”
Murmurs ripple through the boardroom.
“Come now, East,” Paul says, his soft jawline collapsing into concern. Paul’s my biggest and first investor, and also someone I care for and respect. “We’re trying to rebuild FTW’s reputation while allowing you to do the same. When your name is restored, we’ll be happy to reinst?—”
“As a fifty-one percent stakeholder in the company,” Stone says, cutting him off, “Mr. Blake has acted in good faith.” He smooths a ring-heavy hand down a mint green, double-breasted Armani suit. He looks like a lawyer, a really expensive lawyer. Where’s the lie? “Cecily Wallace was beyond qualified for her position. She left another highly successful NGO to take over FTW’s charity arm. All members of this board approved her hire, and there was no reasonable way anyone could’ve foreseen her…”
I mentally fill in the words Descent into madness, Scrooge McDuck—style.
Stone finishes with, “Misappropriation of funds.”
“We’re well aware of Easton’s controlling interest in FTW,” Paul says. Sweat swamps the grooved lines on his forehead. Thanks for that, high-def. “And this isn’t about blame.”
I chortle, an acoustic barb of yeah, right, because it sure feels like it’s all about me holding the smelly shit-bag of blame.
“There’s plenty of responsibility to go around,” Stone says, waving an inclusive hand at the board. “Frankly, the problem you have isn’t with Mr. Blake’s actions. The problem you have is with the media portraying this unfortunate incident as a rich guy handing the keys to the company safe to his girlfriend. That’s an incorrect and unfair accusation we could easily prove in court, should this farce continue.”
Court? Hell, no. He’s bluffing. I stop my foot from tapping out my frustration.
“If I can suggest something else,” Putnam, the newest and youngest member of the board, says. “A two-year hiatus is only one of the solutions we’ve considered. I’d like to offer the other.”
It has to be better than the knock-down, drag-out that will result in them trying to force me out of my company. I nod at her. “Go ahead.”
On screen, Paul takes a linen handkerchief from his pocket, wipes his forehead, then stage-whispers, “He’s not going to go for it.”
She bristles but addresses me directly. “My idea is an FTW reality show where fitness professionals compete to win money for themselves and their charity. I believe if you appear on the show as a celebrity personality, as judge or host, it could help remind people who you are and help restore your reputation.”
My stomach drops.
Stone turns to me, waiting to see how I’m taking this.
Honestly, I don’t know. This is the second-to-last thing I would’ve expected of this call—the first being getting booted from my company. “It seems like a huge commitment,” I say, stalling so I can digest this. “I have investors to answer to and our overseas launch to pursue. I want to make up for the ground we’ve lost with this… situation.”
We’ve lost many investors, advertisers, and franchise business opportunities, plus memberships are down, and my millions of online followers are abandoning ship. All due to my bad publicity.
“Mr. Blake,” Putnam says. “Once Cecily’s trial starts, there’s increased danger. If you’re not more proactive, if you don’t try something extreme, restoring your reputation could take a decade.”
A decade? My heart pounds so hard there’s a vibration in my collarbone. “Paul started this call asking me to take a two-year hiatus. What? Were you ballparking that figure?”
Paul rolls his eyes like a teenager dealing with a clueless parent. “More like wishful thinking on my part.”
Anger streaks down my spine. How the hell did I get in this position? Oh, that’s right, I fell in love with a woman who lied right to my face.
I turn to Stone and give him the nod. He clears his throat. “Give me a moment to consult with Easton.”
When Paul agrees, Stone mutes us. Resting the remote against his chin, he says, “It’s a big risk. If there’s any trouble with the show or its ratings, the board will have even more reason to remove you from FTW’s leadership. It’s safer for us to try to negotiate a shorter hiatus, or to fight like hell. I prefer to fight.”
“No fights.” I can imagine what the media would do with that public battle. “FTW can’t take that hit right now.” Frustrated, I scrub a hand across my face. “I was such an idiot to recommend Cecily for that job.”
“Bzzzt. Wrong answer. You’re human, whether you like it or not. You have ups and downs, make good and bad decisions, fuck up and fart around. This notion you have that you need to be perfect is unrealistic.”
“Not to the world it isn’t, and that’s who I’m playing to right now.” Damn it. Why can’t the work I do speak for me as much as one mistake? I let out a breath. “I’ll do the show.”
Stone glances at the screen at the board talking among themselves or looking at their phones. He nods. “Okay. If you’re going to embark on this level of publicity, it should be about you and your vision for FTW.”
I like the sound of him being onboard. I say, “It needs to be unique, have a few twists and easily promotable aspects.”
Stone sighs. “I know a woman?—”
“No kidding.”
He grins as sly as a hound dog. “Not like that. She’s a friend of a good friend. Her name is Parker Lamb.”
“I’ve heard of her. She’s done a bunch of big reality shows.”
“Yep. According to my friend, Parker took a year’s sabbatical, but is going stir-crazy after only a month. If we act fast, we can swoop in and get her to do this thing right.”
The creative gears in my head are whirring, a combination of stress and opportunity. “Yes, let’s get her. And yes, to giving money, a million for someone and their charity, but not just that. I want to offer the winner a real stake in FTW, a franchise.”
Stone grimaces. “That’s a big payday for a reality show. People are going to murder each other to get on it. You sure?”
“It needs to be big to get eyes on it. Plus, offering a franchise builds the brand and ties it all back to the company.”
Stone nods. “You want to be Willy Wonka bringing in your heir, a new representative, while weeding that person out through fair competition and donating to charity. It’s so you, helping others as you improve your company. Anything else?”
“Fuck, I don’t know.” I rub my chin angrily. “Let Parker figure the rest out. I want to be hands-off until showtime. That way, I can move forward with our European expansion.”
How hard could it be to pop into a show and charm the pants off people? It’s basically how I live my life.
With a resigned nod, Stone clicks back on with the board. “Mr. Blake is willing to accept the reality show proposal. With a few caveats.”