“That’s a very simplistic analysis.” His smile was pure condescension. “In my book, I describe it as a fusion of political strategy and marketing innovation. Think about it. Everyone talks about building buzz, but where does that energy come from? It’s not like there’s an unlimited supply. When resources are scarce, you have to take what you need.”
“By running a smear campaign,” Jean said. “Like leaking that story about their business being in trouble. And then what, people buy Barrett’s Best instead?”
Charlie spared a moment to admire her quick thinking. Sharp as a tack, his Jean.
“I don’t expect you to understand. Mr. K here knows what I’m talking about.”
“We have nothing in common,” Philip Koenig replied, with devastating coolness.
“Dishonorable is as dishonorable does,” Sergeant Cowboy said.
“Papa is a man of honor,” Emma informed them. She gave her father a significant look. “He keeps his promises.”
“You are correct as always, my darling.” Mr. Koenig lowered his head. “I intended to wait until tomorrow to make the announcement, but I feel I should tell you now. I am stepping down.”
Charlie’s dad looked like he’d just learned the truth about Santa Claus. “What do you mean, Phil?”
“We’re breaking up the Koenig empire.”
Emma made a tsking sound.
“Corporation, not empire. And I am merely a man.” He half bowed to Mr. Pike. “I realize this is not what you wished to hear.”
A shriek pierced the air. Charlie’s first thought was that his father had lost it and was going to start sobbing into his commemorative pint glass. Then he noticed Smithson jumping onto the nearest chair.
“Snake!” Smithson balanced precariously on the seat, pointing at the floor. “It touched my shoe!”
Charlie crouched to retrieve his poor harmless pet. “There you are, Emma!” he crooned. “You had quite an adventure, didn’t you?”
“What is wrong with you?” Smithson made a gagging noise.
Mr. Pike stood. “How dare you speak to my son that way? Charlie is a good man.”
Was that how his father saw him, even though Charlie had no interest in making or selling beer? The thought was almost as startling as the pitch of Smithson’s screams.
“See how far that gets you in life.” Smithson hopped down from the chair, patting his head like a bird settling its feathers. If birds used hair gel.
Charlie raised Snake Emma so she was at eye level with Smithson. Her tongue flicked as she hissed.
“I’ll send you my bill,” Smithson yelped, before fleeing into the night.
“What a turd,” Sergeant Cowboy said.
“My sentiments exactly,” Mr. Koenig agreed. Even Charlie’s father looked disgusted.
It seemed like a happy ending—bad guy vanquished, snake found, his beloved by his side—but as usual, Charlie hadn’t taken the business implications into account.
“What now?” His father leaned his elbows on the desk, cradling his head in both hands. “How am I supposed to face this crowd? I can’t pretend everything’s hunky-dory after we’ve been publicly humiliated.”
Charlie switched Snake Emma to his opposite hand so he could pat his father on the back. It wasn’t the bruising between-the-shoulder-blades pounding his dad favored; Charlie’s style was more of athere, there. And that was okay. He didn’t have to be the same as anyone else, because Jean liked him the way he was.
“Maybe you shouldn’t pretend anymore, Dad.”
Chapter 35
Jean had worked in enough bars to recognize the early stages of a grown-man meltdown.
“I can’t go out there and admit I failed you and your mother. And all the other Pikes.” Charlie’s father kissed the tips of two fingers before pointing them at one of the framed black-and-white photos on the wall. “You too, Mugsy. And everyone else who works for us. The distributors. Warehouse employees. Truck drivers. Mailroom staff. The whole town—”
