“I heard them talking about it. But I didn’t know it was that bad for you, B. What have you done to take care of it?”
“Maybe you should ask what I haven’t tried! I tried talking to my crew. I’ve tried yellin’ at them and threatenin’—no promisin’—to dock their pay if they didn’t straighten themselves out. I’ve tried random drug tests to make sure they weren’t passin’ something around. I’ve tried making extra meetings to talk about safety concerns. Nothing seems to work, Solly. I can’t get those guys to follow a few simple rules. What am I supposed to do about that? If I don’t get those lost time accidents under control…”
Bastien didn’t have to finish the sentence. Solly already knew. That crusty old owner of CT Inspectorate was well into his nineties, but he could still swing a big stick. He made sure everybody around there knew it, too. He didn’t let anything come between him and his ability to make money. That included his own family.
Solly leaned forward, clasped his hands in front of him, tapping his mouth in concentration.
“What kind of a budget do you have left?”
“Not much. I’ve got to go back and crunch the numbers. It’s almost the end of the quarter. Nobody’s spending any money. Nobody but Remy that is. I’m looking for creative ways to do more with less, and Remy’s out there blowin’ it as fast as I can bring it in.”
“What’s he doing with it? Besides tricking out your van, that is?”
Bastien shrugged. “I don’t see most of the invoices for the company. But I heard through the grapevine that over half of my operations budget is being spent on entertainment. Remy’s supposedly been wining and dining potential clients. Not much left for me to work with.”
“Why does that old man let him get away with it?”
“I think the old man is slowing down. He’s sick and he’s tired. It’s either that or Remy is drugging him to keep him out of his hair.”
Solly grunted in agreement. He toyed with his beer bottle, peeling off the label in slow strips. He then set the bottle down on the table with a thump and said, “I might know somebody who could help you.”
“Who?” Bastien didn’t want to sound too hopeful. But he was running out of options and didn’t know what else to try.
“A consultant.”
“ Aw…hell, naw. I know what that means.” Bastien threw up his hands. He didn’t trust consultants. Even after all of his research and verifying business references, the last consultant he dealt with back in New Orleans cashed the hefty check he’d written then filed for bankruptcy before he could finish the job. It was a hard lesson, one that Bastien took very personally. Maybe it skewed his perspective and made him overly suspicious of consultants, but overly suspicious meant more money kept in the company’s bank account.
“You want me to throw away what little credibility I have left with the company on some pencil-pushing desk jockey who doesn’t know the first thing about my business but will charge me out the behind to pretend that they do. Uh-uh. No way, Solly. Forget it.”
“Wait a minute now, before you shoot me down. Just hear me out.”
Bastien folded his arms across his chest, leaned back in the chair and set his face into a deep scowl. “Go on.”
Solly took advantage of Bastien’s distance from the table to reach for his chili cheese chips. He shoved a few into his mouth, crunched for a few minutes and wiped his hands on his already food-stained bowling shirt. “I know this lady. She’s really sharp and classy.”
“Who is she? And what’s she got to do with the inspection business?”
“Her name’s Phaedra Burke-Carter. Her cousin is Darryl Burke-Carter. Do you remember him?”
“Something about that name sounds familiar.” Bastien snapped his fingers a couple of times, trying to remember.
“His family’s big money here in Houston. They started the Burke-Carter Foundation.”
Bastien drew his eyebrows together. His expression showed his ignorance.
“You know, the Burke-Carter foundation,” Solly insisted as if repeating the words slowly would clear up the mystery for Bastien. “One of the largest independent, charitable foundations in west Texas. A clearinghouse for all kinds of grants. Education. Medical research. Community development. Promotion of the arts. Human rights welfare. If there’s a worthy cause to be found, the Burke-Carters are champions of it.”
“Hey, I’m not from here. I’m Louisiana bayou, born and bred.”
“Don’t you pull that Louisiana-bayou-born-and-bred routine with me. You only lay on that Creole accent thick as gumbo when you want to get to the ladies. You went to Prairie View A&M here in Texas, just like I did.”
“But I finished up at LSU.”
“But you brought your tail back and got your MBA from the University of Houston. You’ve been here long enough to become a naturalized Texan.”
“Naturalized my behind. I’ll go back as soon as there’s something to go back to.”
“You ain’t goin’ anywhere,” Solly predicted with certainty. “You’ve got too much invested here.”
“All I’ve got here is trouble,” Bastien muttered.
“I told you, I think I know the lady who can get you out of it. Burke-Carters are local philanthropists,” Solly went on.
“This doesn’t seem like the right solution for me.” Bastien had heard enough and stood up as if to leave.
Solly reached out and grabbed Bastien’s forearm. “I want you to ratchet down your pride for just a minute and listen to me, Bastien. I’m trying to tell you what the Burke-Carters are all about. Are you listening to me?”
“Yeah, I’m listening.”
“Now sit your yellow butt down and keep on listening. Their great-grandfather made his first million before he was twenty. Everything they put their hands on turns to gold. They pass it on through their genes and through the generations.”
“How can the Burke-Carters help me?”
“She’s a well sought after health, safety and environmental consultant. Her specialty is the oil and gas industry. Rig safety. Refineries. Stuff like that. But I think she can help you, too.”
“Is she expensive?”
“I suppose so,” Solly said honestly. “She’s in pretty high demand. She can charge a premium for her services if she wants to.”
“I don’t think Remy would authorize spending for that.”
Solly felt badly about the pressure Bastien was under. Solly knew about the sacrifices Bastien had made in his personal life. He left his lady behind in New Orleans to chase after the job that G-Paw Thibeadaux offered him. It wasn’t a topic that was open to discussion. Gabrielle wouldn’t leave her family, couldn’t pick up
