Page 87 of Third Time’s a Charm

A ballet couldn’t have been better choreographed.

Will extracts four sets of documents from his briefcase and slides them across the table towards the lawyer.

“In a nutshell, my client would like Cellar Road International to relinquish any and all rights to the intellectual property of the pairing plan developed by her while working for Cellar Road International. In addition, she requires the noncompete clause in her contract to be expunged, allowing her to use said intellectual property in any way she sees fit.” Will’s words and tone, as he details what we are expecting, are precise, surgical even, and invite no interruptions.

Both Tate and John roar laughing.

“You’ve got to be kidding. Why the fuck would I do that?” Tate asks. “Get out of my offices.” He turns on his heel and again heads for the door.

I’m pretty sure that industrial-strength antiperspirant is failing. But Will seems unconcerned. He waits till Tate has the door open before he speaks.

“I think you’ll find it in your best interest to stay, Mr Brown. Unless you’d like us to take what we have to the media, of course.” That stops Tate in his tracks.

“What you … what do you mean what you have?” The bluster of a moment ago is replaced with a whiff of fear. John Mackelden has slid silently into a chair, face ashen. He might not be a great businessman, but he’s got enough cunning to understand his nine lives might be running out.

“If you’d like to turn to Annexure A, you’ll see exactly what I mean.”

Tate and John snatch up their copies from the table and snap aggressively through the pages.

The lawyer’s eyes get wider and wider as he follows Will’s instructions and pages calmly to the relevant section. Tate’s face goes from ruddy to pale to an unpleasant greenish-grey. Mackelden’s face, on the other hand, is now a disturbing shade of red. A pulse beats hard and fast in his temple and his eyes bulge. It’s possible this meeting might end in a medical emergency.

“This is all Mackelden. None of these claims name me. You can do what you like with him.”

“You bastard,” Mackelden shouts. “You’re not throwing me under the bus.”

“It’s your fault we’re in this mess,” Tate yells.

“Like I don’t know where all your secrets are buried,” Mackelden shoots back.

Watching two rabid dogs fighting couldn’t be more disturbing.

Will allows them to bicker for a minute before speaking over them with the kind of authority that would get him a seat at the United Nations.

“Alright … gentlemen …” Will’s tone drips irony. “I think we can all agree there’s enough in here to bring you both to your knees. Now, as you can see, my client, Louise Baker, has already signed the documents. So if you’ll just sign there, we’ll be on our way.” Will indicates a line with a bold cross from his fountain pen.

“I’ll do no such thing.” Tate leaps from his chair and lunges towards me. “This is nothing but blackmail, you cheap little slut.”

Will and the HR lawyer surge to their feet, Will angling himself in front of my chair and the lawyer holding his arm out in front of Tate, who is actually frothing at the mouth. The room is now fire and ice. Tate is blazing, while Will maintains his icy cool. John Mackelden, like the bully he is, has said nothing at all.

“I’d be very careful if I were you. You don’t want to be adding attempted assault and defamation to your troubles.” Will leans down and makes a note on his yellow legal pad and turns it to face me. You ok?

I’m shaking so hard I might fall off my chair, but I manage to nod.

“That’s enough, Tate,” the HR lawyer snaps.

“Don’t tell me what’s enough. This is extortion. And I won’t have it. I’m not handing over valuable intellectual property to a pretty face, no matter how good her tits are.”

Something in me rises. Hot and fast. I’m on my feet before I even realise it, hands splayed on the table, leaning towards the two men who have the fate of my career in their hands.

“This pretty face is the one who came up with that valuable intellectual property, Mr Brown. While this predator”—I indicate John Mackelden with a sneer—“sat on his hands and watched the company wither. Handing over what’s morally mine is the very least you can do.”

Euphoria floods my veins. I did it. I stood up to them.

“Keep dreaming, sweetheart.”

“No? Alright. The media it is, then.” I straighten and nod at Will, who snaps his briefcase shut and stands.

“Looks like my client has decided. Good luck fending those vultures off. Oh, and your wife, of course. I understand you’re in the middle of a messy divorce. Pretty sure you don’t want her getting hold of this stuff. It’s unlikely to play well in the settlement.” With a hand on my back, Will prepares to usher me to the door before we’re stopped by the company lawyer.