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A deathly silence falls upon the room. Over a hundred pair of eyes are on me. I casually fold my arms and throw on a smile.
Barrett Andrews blinks. “Excuse me?”
“You have several businesses established across the US. Heck, we’ve got one right here in Georgia. You boast about how it puts everyone who works for you at an advantage because it’s a viable source of income, as well as greater marginal profit. But is it really all that, Mr. Andrews?”“Get to the point,” he says in an icy tone.
“In a minute.” I pause. “Mr. Andrews, are you familiar with lawsuits? I’m sure you have a lot of those, clearly, given you’re a controversial person.”
“What’s this about?”
“This is about Project Six.”
One name, and that’s all I need to bring his entire faux personality down.
His countenance changes from puzzlement to shock and then to rage. “What about it?” he snarls.
“Project Six, which I’m sure you’re all too familiar with, is a lawsuit. And they all point to you.”
He smirks, “You’re accusing me without proof?”
“Proof? I don’t need to have proof before I can dig out those dirty acts of yours. But if it’s proof you’re looking for, I have it. And in spades, too.” I pause, and the room goes silent; all eyes are on me.
“Violation of several federal statutes, violation of employment contracts, wrongful termination, unlawful discrimination in the workplace, not to mention withheld payment for retaliatory purposes. Oh, I could go on and on, Mr. Andrews. The list is endless.”
Barrett is sweating bullets now, and the collar of his shirt is soaked. He wipes the perspiration from his face and glares at me. He’s a smooth talker, but his anger issues always give him away. No matter the situation, he'll always lose it, especially if he feels irritated or displeased. But despite his terrible temper, he's the kind of guy who inspires uncontrollable lust in women and fearful respect in men.
“Or should we talk about the thousands of lawsuits filed against you for your gross negligence of duties? Or the ones you’ve managed to make go away, no thanks to the uncountable checks you’ve written?”
“That’s preposterous.”
“Or why don’t you tell us? I’m sure the people are waiting for an answer.”
“There has been nothing like that. I don’t know where you’ve gotten that information, but I can boldly tell you that it’s wrong.”
“Really?”
Patty’s eyes darts between Barrett and me. “Okay, I think we should move on. There are a number of—“
“Barrett, is it true that you exploit the identities of your workers? Large work, gross pay? That’s what you do, right? Admit it.”
Barrette is looking uncomfortable. “Now, I—“
Bingo.
Turning to the audience, I say as calmly as I can, “Ladies and gentlemen, my name is Ian Reynolds. I’m a software developer and the creator of Fringe, which I’m sure a lot of you must have heard about. And I’m here to let you all know that Barrett Andrews is a nothing but a corrupt and exploiting racketeer.”
They all gasp. Patty looks horrified.
In that moment, Barrett shoots to his feet, a wild look on his sweaty face. “How dare you? Who the hell do you think you are?”
With a smile, I say, “Your worst nightmare.”
His face pales.
“Gina Morehead. She was a worker at the Shipp Bank, a bank you own. Do you deny these claims, Mr. Andrews? Or are you still adamant that there is no proof to back up these claims?”
He’s staring at me, no rebuttals to follow. And that’s when I know I’ve cornered him. Without another word, I walk out of the arena, a purposeful stride in my steps. I put a call to Carl as soon as I reach my car.
He answers on the second ring. “One down, two to go.”
