Jackson.”
He knew it was Rod, and normally he would have answered with a cheery “Hi, Rod” but he hoped his curt response would be a reminder that he was miles away from the office and could do damn all about the current mess.
“Tom? It’s me. Rod.”
“What can I do for you? You’ll have to make it quick because I’m pushed for time.” He grabbed his jacket and left his cabin. This would be a brief call. He’d make sure of that.
“You know what you can do for me. I need to make a statement. People are worried about their jobs, understandably, and I have to give them some answers.”
Tom strode along the corridor. “People the world over are worried about their jobs.”
“And people the world over want answers.”
Tom could picture Rod pacing around his office, where the walls were adorned with awards he’d been presented with over the years. There was no questioning Rod’s knowledge of the TV industry, which was why Tom had been so happy to have him aboard as entertainment executive but, as a person, Rod left a lot to be desired. He could turn on charm at will but had no understanding of the meaning of loyalty. Tom was only surprised Rod hadn’t taken his expertise and his many influential contacts to another company by now.
“Tell them I’m doing all I can,” Tom said.
“The bank was on the phone yesterday.”
“I know. I spoke to them twice.”
“And?”
And Tom had seven days to come up with the money or the company went under. “It’s all in hand.”
Twelve months ago, they’d employed extra production staff because they’d been in line for three big commissions. Not one of those commissions had come to fruition.
Tom stepped aside to avoid a group of passengers walking in the opposite direction.
“You said you were confident of an influx of funds,” Rod said. “Is there no news from that direction?”
The silky smooth, condescending voice irritated Tom more than usual and he wished to God he hadn’t confided in Rod. If he hadn’t had a couple of drinks too many, and if he hadn’t needed to justify taking off on this bloody cruise at the worst possible time, he wouldn’t have.
“You know the situation as well as I do, Rod. As soon as there’s any news, you’ll be the first to know.”
“Your mother, wasn’t it?”
“Yes.” Tom could barely get the words out through tightly gritted teeth. “I’ve asked my mother for funding. Okay? I’m confident she’ll hand over enough cash to keep us going.”
“When?”
“When? When she’s had time to consider, that’s when. You can’t expect her to write a cheque for such an amount without thinking it over, for Christ’s sake. We’ll have the money. Soon. Tell everyone that it’s all in hand and their jobs are safe. Okay?”
“You’re guaranteeing that?”
“Yes.” Tom felt like hurling the phone through the dining room doors ahead of him. “I’ll be in touch.”
He stabbed at the End Call so viciously that he dropped his phone. Cursing, he bent to pick it up and, as he was doing so, he glanced behind him to see Dylan Scott.
“Good morning, Dylan.” As he straightened and put his phone in his pocket, he knew his face was burning with colour. How much of that conversation had Scott heard? It was impossible to guess because the bloke’s expression gave nothing away.
“Hi, Tom. Everything okay?”
“Fine. Although I could do without business calls before breakfast.” He managed a smile, was about to ask if Scott was going to the dining room for breakfast, and changed his mind. He couldn’t face company. Instead, he made a fuss of patting his pockets. “Drat. I’ve forgotten my wallet. I’d better go back and get it. I’ll catch you later.”
Scott didn’t answer, but as Tom strode along the corridor, he could feel his gaze burning into his back.
Tom let himself into his cabin and sat on his bed, his head in his hands, for a full five minutes. He had the headache from hell.
Just as he was
He knew it was Rod, and normally he would have answered with a cheery “Hi, Rod” but he hoped his curt response would be a reminder that he was miles away from the office and could do damn all about the current mess.
“Tom? It’s me. Rod.”
“What can I do for you? You’ll have to make it quick because I’m pushed for time.” He grabbed his jacket and left his cabin. This would be a brief call. He’d make sure of that.
“You know what you can do for me. I need to make a statement. People are worried about their jobs, understandably, and I have to give them some answers.”
Tom strode along the corridor. “People the world over are worried about their jobs.”
“And people the world over want answers.”
Tom could picture Rod pacing around his office, where the walls were adorned with awards he’d been presented with over the years. There was no questioning Rod’s knowledge of the TV industry, which was why Tom had been so happy to have him aboard as entertainment executive but, as a person, Rod left a lot to be desired. He could turn on charm at will but had no understanding of the meaning of loyalty. Tom was only surprised Rod hadn’t taken his expertise and his many influential contacts to another company by now.
“Tell them I’m doing all I can,” Tom said.
“The bank was on the phone yesterday.”
“I know. I spoke to them twice.”
“And?”
And Tom had seven days to come up with the money or the company went under. “It’s all in hand.”
Twelve months ago, they’d employed extra production staff because they’d been in line for three big commissions. Not one of those commissions had come to fruition.
Tom stepped aside to avoid a group of passengers walking in the opposite direction.
“You said you were confident of an influx of funds,” Rod said. “Is there no news from that direction?”
The silky smooth, condescending voice irritated Tom more than usual and he wished to God he hadn’t confided in Rod. If he hadn’t had a couple of drinks too many, and if he hadn’t needed to justify taking off on this bloody cruise at the worst possible time, he wouldn’t have.
“You know the situation as well as I do, Rod. As soon as there’s any news, you’ll be the first to know.”
“Your mother, wasn’t it?”
“Yes.” Tom could barely get the words out through tightly gritted teeth. “I’ve asked my mother for funding. Okay? I’m confident she’ll hand over enough cash to keep us going.”
“When?”
“When? When she’s had time to consider, that’s when. You can’t expect her to write a cheque for such an amount without thinking it over, for Christ’s sake. We’ll have the money. Soon. Tell everyone that it’s all in hand and their jobs are safe. Okay?”
“You’re guaranteeing that?”
“Yes.” Tom felt like hurling the phone through the dining room doors ahead of him. “I’ll be in touch.”
He stabbed at the End Call so viciously that he dropped his phone. Cursing, he bent to pick it up and, as he was doing so, he glanced behind him to see Dylan Scott.
“Good morning, Dylan.” As he straightened and put his phone in his pocket, he knew his face was burning with colour. How much of that conversation had Scott heard? It was impossible to guess because the bloke’s expression gave nothing away.
“Hi, Tom. Everything okay?”
“Fine. Although I could do without business calls before breakfast.” He managed a smile, was about to ask if Scott was going to the dining room for breakfast, and changed his mind. He couldn’t face company. Instead, he made a fuss of patting his pockets. “Drat. I’ve forgotten my wallet. I’d better go back and get it. I’ll catch you later.”
Scott didn’t answer, but as Tom strode along the corridor, he could feel his gaze burning into his back.
Tom let himself into his cabin and sat on his bed, his head in his hands, for a full five minutes. He had the headache from hell.
Just as he was
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