Chapter Thirty-Two

Owen was in a good mood as he drove to the convention center. At the first sign forewarning a one-way system ahead, he parked up and used the navigation on his phone to walk the rest of the way. The bleeping dot led him across a park, green in both actuality and on the phone screen. Owen followed the dot across the park, across a narrow but complex junction where half a dozen roads met, up an apparent back alley, passed a large van unloading KimCorp banners, and there bumped into the driver who had brought Olivia by car.

“Oh, a familiar face,” Owen blinked, and put away his phone. “Is everyone else here already?”

“Uh, think so, sir,” the driver said, rallying from mild surprise in turn.

“Great. Do you know where we are in the building, roughly?”

“Somewhere upstairs, sir, so I’m told, not been up there myself.”

“That’ll do.” Owen nodded, smiled, and strode on, in through the back entrance, up a wide corridor already hung with corporate banners of a dozen companies, found a stairwell, and trotted up. A brief peek through the door off the first landing told him he needed to ascend again. On the third floor, he stuck his head in and immediately spotted Martha, overseeing the setup of the KimCorp booth.

Wandering over, Owen asked, “All going smoothly?”

“No!” Martha barked automatically before turning to see who had asked. “Yep, I mean, yes! Yes, everything’s fine. It’s fine. It’s all going just fine.”

“So, it’s fine?” Owen checked.

“It’ll be fine.” From behind Martha echoed a crash, as one of the KimCorp crew dropped the top bar of the main banner display. Owen winced. Martha somehow remained stone-faced.

“Never turned up early to one of these before,” Owen mused, looking around. “I’d always rather assumed the venue did all this.” He twirled a finger to indicate the ongoing chaos of event setup all around.

“No, we do all this.” Martha mimicked his gesture sardonically.

“Anything I can do to help? Not here,” he indicated the booth still under construction. “Not that I wouldn’t, if we were short-handed, but would you be comfortable yelling at or in front of me? I’m probably more useful as a gopher.”

“Yup, fair enough,” Martha agreed. “Do you want to explore the venue, learn the layout, help keep our people together or at least in touch?”

“That I can do. I’ll check out the competition while I’m at it.” Owen started away, only to misstep and almost trip when Martha called after him:

“Oh, and find Olivia, can you? Her presentation’s at two. I need to know where it’s happening by noon. I need her back here by one at the absolute latest for final prep. I might need you to pull an hour on the booth, as well, while I deal with her inevitable pre-show panic.”

“Olivia? Sure, okay.” He had known she would be here, of course, but impending actuality left him momentarily adrift. He looked about from the near door he had come in by the far exit at the end of the long room. “Where...?”

“Last I saw,” Martha obliged, “she was headed for the bar.”

***

The ease with which Owen had found his way thus far deserted him. He hurried through the building, up and down stairs, looking into every room and doubling back often through the open-air garden at the middle of the complex.

Just as he was on the verge of asking for directions, he found the bar tucked away in a room off a stairwell that he was sure he had traversed twice already. The bar room was a low-ceilinged Tudor affair, with the original timbers of the monastery still in place and the rough white plaster between them authentically restored.

Oaken branches, polished to a high shine but otherwise unworked, reached intertwining in an arch above the bar counter. The living wood motif was repeated in the bar itself, tendrils of smaller branches worked into the edging of the countertop. Behind the bar and the racked bottles was a large mirror, and around this, too, curled polished branches.

Olivia was at the bar, midway through ordering a cocktail when Owen arrived.

“Hi!” Owen flashed his grin automatically, but there faltered. “Are you...? How’ve you been?”

“Since you ask, I’m a bundle of nerves! I’ve got a presentation in two hours and every bloody word of it has vanished from my head! I had it memorized; it was simple. I’ve got props and notes and a PowerPoint presentation!”

“So, what’s the problem? Use all that and wing it. Wasn’t that always the plan?” Owen signaled the barman. “That’s how I’d do it. Scotch and ginger, and another of whatever the lady had last.”

“I shouldn’t...” Olivia eyed her glass.

“Why, how many have you had?”

“I don’t know...”

“That’s either one too many or one too few. Let’s chance it.”

“Go on, then.”

“Tell you a secret?” Owen offered, while they waited.

“Go on, then,” Olivia repeated.

“It’s an act. Confidence is a thing you do, not something you are. It’s an action, not a trait.”

Olivia looked at him at last. “You what?”

“I am no more confident nor less insecure than anyone else,” Owen asserted.

“Pfft.” Olivia finished her drink just in time for the barman to deliver another.

“Really. C’mon, you’ve got to know me, it’s at least half BS.”

“Yeah...” Olivia caught herself nodding, but then frowned. “So, what’s the secret?”

“That. Look, imagine you’re playing football, some sport, team game. Doesn’t matter who you’re up against or how the match is going, you play your guts out and hope for the best. Right?”

“I suppose so? I’m not much for sports.”

“Wrong analogy, then. Pretend you’re a billionaire, and you’ve got to act like a billionaire. You walk on stage to give a talk. You can’t see the audience, and if any of them were at that moment more important than you, they’d be the one on the podium and you’d be in the stalls. They’re all there to hear you, though, so you’re a shiny golden god.”

“But I’m not a billionaire.”

“Don’t have to be to walk on stage and give a talk. Which you do. C’mon, or we’ll be late.”

“We’ve got at least an hour.”

“Martha wants to give you a pep-talk as well.”

“Oh no...” Olivia rolled her eyes and finished her drink.

Owen stood up from the bar and offered Olivia his arm. She took it, swaying as at least one cocktail too many made the room sway around her.

***

“Presentation’s cancelled,” Martha bluntly informed them when they staggered back to the booth. “Something to do with the air-con in one of the conference rooms; half the companies here are affected. The bouncy chap running the place didn’t stand still long enough to learn more.”

“Oh.” Olivia swayed, disappointed.

“You’re half smashed anyway,” Martha observed.

“Oh, I’d have been fine!”

“Just give the presentation right here,” Owen said. “Obviously?”

Martha and Olivia just stared at him.

“Not obvious, then. Okay. Do the presentation right here.” He indicated the booth where they stood. “The space we booked isn’t available, yes? This space we have booked, though, is and here we are. So, let’s use this space. How much room did you really expect to take up on a podium? A square meter, not more than two? We’ve plenty of room.”

“Where?” Olivia asked, looking around the booth currently full of the three of them, their stand, the banners and adverts, a table of KimCorp merchandise and several boxes of more stashed under the table.

“Here!” Owen laughed, spreading his arms as he walked backwards into the concourse behind him. “Right here. Give your presentation one-on-one to everyone who’ll stop long enough to listen.”

The flow of human traffic parted around him. Owen collared a man at random and shook him by the hand.

“Hi! I’m Owen Kim, heir to the empire. Would you mind chatting to these two charming young ladies for a few minutes? I’d do it myself, but I’m a very busy man.”

He steered the perplexed businessman into the booth and walked away grinning. Olivia stood stunned until Martha stepped on her foot.

“Ow! I mean, I! Hi, I’m Olivia!” She did her best imitation of Owen’s cocksure grin and billionaire handshake.

***

Throughout the day, Owen mingled around the conference room, engaging new and old acquaintances in conversation. He kept track of Olivia as well, and every time he saw her giggle at something a man said, he felt his blood boil in jealousy. Sure, they were just clients conversing with her about work, but it didn’t make things easier for him.

Olivia seemed to be in her element, now that she had relaxed. She was congenial with everyone and judging by Martha’s wide smile, Olivia was getting them new clients.

Seeing that a familiar face was now talking to Olivia, he ended his own conversation and headed towards their booth.

“Oh, Mr. Jackson,” Olivia said, playfully patting the man’s arm.

He laughed and leaned in to whisper something in her ear, which made Olivia giggle again.

“John,” Owen said, stopping beside the man. “I see you are getting quite familiar with my employees,” he added through gritted teeth in a semblance of smile.

“Owen, what a pleasant surprise,” the man said, offering his hand for a shake.

Owen held his hand a little tighter than usual. “Isn’t it so?” he said, trying to conceal his annoyance. He moved to stand closer to Olivia, forcing John to take a step back away from her. “Seems my employees have informed you of our new services already.”

“Oh, yeah, Olivia is a gem,” he said, flashing a bright smile towards her. He reached to his inner jacket pocket and took out a business card, which he handed to Olivia. “As I said, Olivia, call me anytime, any day.”

Olivia nodded but didn’t dare say anything else in the presence of Owen.

He, however, had a lot to say, and if John didn’t back off soon, he would let his fists do the talking instead. Owen pressed his lips in a tight smile, trying to conceal his anger. “What’s going on, John?”

John patted Owen on the shoulder amicably. “Well, old friend, if you don’t take care of this one, I’ll surely steal her.”

With that, John turned and walked away, leaving Owen fuming and questioning Olivia with his gaze.