Chapter Two

Chapter Two

I emailed Wade Harmon, the VP of procurement who ran the project at Northfield Home. I laid out what had happened and asked whether anyone from Lawson had contacted him.

I sent it. The whole afternoon went by without a reply.

I knew a guy at Wade’s level had seven or eight meetings a day. But Vanessa’s words, “They’re signing in two days,” kept going around and around in my head.

At ten that night, my phone finally lit up. Wade hadn’t emailed back. He was calling.

“Ethan. Just got out of meetings. Lawson’s people did reach out this afternoon. Told us you were gone and the project was theirs now. I turned them down on the spot.” He paused, and his voice was dead certain. “This deal happened because you camped out in our lobby for a month and sat through trade show after trade show with us. We’re backing you, not the Lawson name. Line up a manufacturer and I’ll be on the next plane. This contract gets signed with you, and only you.”

When I hung up, I let out a long breath. First thing the next morning, I started looking for a new partner.

Lawson Manufacturing didn’t have much of a technical edge. It was a contract manufacturer, producing goods for big-name brands.

No core products of its own. No patents.

Put simply, anyone could do what they did.

A shop like that survives mostly on the strength of its sales team, and beyond that, on keeping a base of loyal customers with solid quality.

I’d been there five years and watched it grow from a tiny operation into a company with tens of millions a year in revenue.

Not huge, but not small either.

If they didn’t want the deal I’d brought home, I’d just take it somewhere else.

In this industry, if you have the orders, you’ll never run out of factories. I quickly reached out to one: Lawson’s archrival, Yates Industries.

I drove over to their plant and told them straight out why I was there.

I’d picked them because their craftsmanship and quality were every bit as good as Lawson’s.

The owner, Tom Yates, listened with suspicion written all over his face. I explained briefly and showed him the termination email Lawson had sent me.

Only then did he believe me. He smiled. “Ethan, if they don’t want a guy like you, I do. Tell you what. Half a million a year. Come work for me.”

I looked at him and thought it over for a moment. “I’ll pass on the job. But if this deal goes through, we split it as partners.”

After what had happened at my last company, I’d seen a few things clearly.

I’d been out there busting my tail, and they thought I was on vacation.

My deals had bought Rick a lakefront house and a Porsche, and he still thought my commission was too high.

Tom didn’t push.

He signed a profit-sharing agreement with me on the spot. “I’ll call Wade and set a date,” I told him. “We should be able to sign within two days.”

“Great!” He couldn’t stop grinning.

With all that done, I went back to my apartment, planning to sleep it off.

Chasing that deal, I hadn’t eaten or slept properly in ages.

For six months I’d lived like a dog. Just to get a meeting with their senior people, I’d camped out in the lobby of their headquarters for an entire month.

After that, I’d worked their trade shows, hauled their samples, and drunk with them. Things I should have done, things I shouldn’t have. I did all of it.

That was how I’d landed the contract.

I washed up, lay down, and drifted off.

I had no idea how long I’d slept when my phone started buzzing nonstop next to my ear.

I sat up. It was already dark outside.

Eight p.m. Caller ID: Rick Lawson.

I hesitated a few seconds, then answered.

“Ethan,” Rick said, “I’m calling to explain. What happened earlier was a total misunderstanding.”

At the word “misunderstanding,” I couldn’t help laughing. “Mr. Lawson, what misunderstanding?”

“When Vanessa said you were fired, she was joking. Don’t take it seriously.”

“I already have. Let’s part on good terms. No need for this to get ugly.”

And I hung up on him.

Contract manufacturing in Dayton is a small world. The slightest thing happens, and everyone knows by morning.

And now I was working with Rick’s archrival.

I wasn’t the least bit surprised he’d heard.

Yesterday, he’d gone to Northfield and been shot down by Wade on the spot. Today, he’d heard I’d signed with Yates. Now he was panicking.

A moment later, the phone rang again. “Ethan, don’t hang up. Just hear my offer.”

“Fine. Go ahead.”

I sat up in bed.

“You’ve been with this company since day one. You’re a founding member. Where we are today, you deserve a lot of the credit.”

Rick was playing the sentiment card. To me, it just sounded ridiculous.

“Mr. Lawson, tell me something I don’t know.”

There was a few seconds of silence. “How about this. I’m outside your building right now. Come down and we’ll talk face-to-face at the coffee shop across the street.”