Cathy Yardley - One Night Standards

“I cannot believe this. I cannot…frickin’…believe this,” Roger finally said, anger filtering through his obvious surprise.

Simone sighed. “Roger, we’ve been over this.”

“I don’t think you realize what a slap in the face this is,” he countered, obviously eager to discuss in front of the team what he’d already hashed out with Simone in private. “Marion & Co. has always carried Trimera. We’ve always had a good relationship with them. Now, they’re creating an exclusive house brand, and they’re going to pit us against some nobody brand from California?” He looked at Mark. “I thought sales were doing well in that channel! Could somebody please tell me how the hell this happened?”

Carol cleared her throat before Mark could respond. “Account management has reported some problems with the Marion & Co. account,” she said, her voice deceptively calm. Her eyes looked fiery and triumphant, though.

“That true, Mark?” Roger snapped.

Mark forced himself not to glare at Carol. “Actually, it’s not,” he responded, his voice cool. “At least, we may have lost sales volume, but not market share. We’re doing fine.” He paused. If you’d read my last three reports, you’d know that.

Roger brushed off the comment, as Mark knew he would. “So, if we’re doing fine, who the hell is Deviant Nation, anyway? And why are they even in this?”

“Diva Nation,” Mark corrected. “They’re a small independent brand out of Los Angeles. They’re getting some decent distribution, though, and their products are getting a good deal of buzz. They’re not much now, but if their numbers keep up…”

He drifted off when they all looked at him.

“Is there any pulse you don’t keep your finger on?” Simone asked with admiration.

He didn’t want to think about how many fingers he’d had on the pulse of Diva Nation…or how much closer he would’ve gotten, if she’d let him.

“I keep an eye out,” Mark said elusively.

“Well. This calls for desperate measures,” Roger said in that finicky, snarky tone of his. “Carol—you’re my point person. We’ve got to make sure that this thing runs smoothly.”

Mark felt his blood pressure raise slightly. He was tired of being passed over. And, frankly, this one was too damned important. He really liked Sophie, but business was business—and since business was the one thing that stood between him and Sophie, he figured she’d probably understand more than anyone.

“Roger,” Mark interrupted, before the man could continue barking out his instructions, “Simone said that she was going to give me the next product launch. You agreed to let me be point on the next proposal. I think that this counts.”

The rest of the team was now openly gaping at him. He had to admit, he was a bit surprised, himself.

Nothing ventured, he reminded himself nervously.

“A little crappy product launch is one thing,” Roger said dismissively, although he seemed surprised, as well, that Mark had spoken up. “But after all, you didn’t report the sales information to me, and that would’ve been important.”

Mark gritted his teeth.

“Besides, we’re going to need more than charm on this,” Roger added. “I need somebody who knows product and figures.”

Mark tried not to let the obvious insult get his temper too high. “I know the product, and I know the background. Most of all, I know Marion & Co.”

Roger smiled indulgently. “Not well enough, obviously, to—”

“If you’d read the last report I sent, you’d know exactly why we’re stuck in this mess.”

Now the rest of the team was more than gaping—they looked horrified. Being assertive, or aggressive, was one thing. Committing career suicide in public by challenging one’s extremely temperamental vice president…well, now, that was something else.

Smooth move, McMann.

“I see,” Roger said, in a flat tone of voice that said he was purely pissed off. He glared at Simone, as if it were her fault things had gotten out of hand.

Simone hastily shuffled some papers on the desk, keeping her voice brisk. “You know, I think that a compromise might work. If Carol took the lead, and Mark worked with her, he could bring his competitive knowledge and his familiarity with the account to the table, while she could hone the message and get the product side in line. What do you say?”

Mark sent a silent prayer of thanks that Simone was firmly on his side. She was far more diplomatic, for one thing—and she’d been playing internal politics for years.

“We’ll talk later,” Roger said sharply, “but since you seem so intent…fine. McMann, you’re working with Carol. I’ll expect to see preliminary notes by next week. Pull the meeting together. And don’t screw this up,” he said, with obvious menace in his voice. “I want this one locked down.”

With that, he stalked off. The team let out a sigh of relief as Simone instructed them to go back to their desks. That is, everyone except Carol, who was looking both exceptionally arrogant and irritated.

Gonna have a problem with you, Mark noted.

“Mark,” she said, “I’ll have my assistant pull together the meeting, and I’ll get the notes done, as well. Why don’t you send me any information you have on Diva Nation and Marion & Co. in an e-mail? Or give me any copies of paperwork you have.” She smiled, an echo of Roger’s humoring grin. “I’ll start working on the actual presentation.”

“I’ll work with you, Carol,” he said, keeping his voice smooth. Charm, as Roger had said. “A lot of my knowledge isn’t on paper. I’d rather we just work together.”

She set her face in a frown. She was a slender woman, with red hair cut in a straight bob, and eyebrows so sculpted they looked chiseled onto her face. She’d had a problem with Mark since the day he’d joined the team. “Mark, can I talk to you for a minute?” she said in a low voice.

He nodded, allowing himself to be pulled aside, knowing that Simone was studying them intently. “Yes?”

She took a deep breath. “Look, it’s obvious that Roger doesn’t really want you on this project. So why don’t you let me do the bulk of the work?” Her eyes were like laser beams in their intensity. “No offense, but I know that this stuff—reports, this kind of leg work—isn’t really your strong suit.”

He winced. Remind me again how that’s not supposed to offend me. “I’m curious—what makes you say that?”

“Well, you’ve never done something like this before,” she said, as if it were patently obvious.

“But I’ve worked on lots of projects,” he countered. “Hell, lots of people on the team have asked me for advice. And Simone knows nobody knows competitive info like I do.”

She frowned, as if amazed he was still putting up a fight. “Well, you’re a sales guy. You don’t have the background…”

“I got my MBA two years ago,” he said shortly. “In marketing.”

She sighed. “You don’t know how we work.”

It was like battering up against a concrete slab. He sighed. He wasn’t going to win if he fought her way—supposed rational arguments, business talk. He only had one choice left.

He leaned forward, smiling…his most winning smile. He made sure he focused his gaze on her as if she were the only woman on earth. It was something they’d always talked about on the catwalk, back when he’d modeled.

She swallowed hard, obviously taken off guard.

“I won’t get in your way, Carol,” he said, his voice pitched low, almost intimate. “I know that this is a big deal, and you’ve probably done tons of marketing launches and competitive proposals. I’m only asking for a chance.”

She blinked at him. He’d never turned the full force of his charm on her before—he hadn’t wanted to waste the energy, and frankly, he always felt a little dirty when he used it this deliberately. Still, he knew the minute she started to waver.