King's Treasure (Oil Kings Book 3) by Marie Johnston (great novels .TXT) 📗

I guess we’ll have to do some fundraising. . . or something.

Brady was in charge of the ‘or something.’ I was the affluent face of the company and Bernard was supposed to be the brains, but with each passing month, I wondered how our doors stayed open. The guy couldn’t sort his own recycling.

This trip was a prime example. Instead of doing a virtual meeting with the owner and CEO of King Oil, Bernard had flown me and Brady in coach to Las Vegas. Gentry King didn’t live or work in Las Vegas. The oil tycoon was from Montana. He’d raised his four boys there and he still worked there with his new wife, who also happened to be his assistant.

I knew all this because I’d researched his company. I’d uncovered everything I could about King Oil and the portfolio of environmental issues they championed, encouraging their investors to dive deep into their pockets.

Bernard wanted Saving Sunsets to be part of that portfolio. Badly. As soon as he’d found out Mr. King was in Las Vegas, he’d begged for an interview and booked our room and tickets. To be fair to Bernard, if we could land an account like King Oil and earn some credibility, the nonprofit would live to see another sunrise. But my carbon footprint for the year was growing at an alarming rate, thanks to the cross-country trip.

“These shoes are killing me.”

“You should’ve just worn your vegan shoes.” Brady strolled next to me with his tie loose and his suit jacket hanging open. Like me, he came from money, but unlike me, his parents had cut him off as soon as he’d veered off the politics path. In contrast, my parents had opened their doors when I’d come limping back home after four years of college, during which I had struggled to do my own laundry and feed myself. Brady, however, had found some roommates and supported himself.

The guy joked around like he didn’t take this job seriously, but he did. It was a stepping stone for both of us. Bigger and better things were ahead. The only problem was that neither of us knew where to step next, and sticking with Saving Sunsets was starting to feel like clinging to the side of a capsizing ship.

Brady glanced down at my feet. “Something tells me a guy born and raised in Montana isn’t going to know Jimmy Choos from Famous Footwear.”

“Tell Bernard that,” I muttered, wishing I’d stayed true to myself, or that these were really Jimmy Choos. “We should get there early and have time to practice our pitch.”

Mr. King was here for pleasure, but since it was easier for people to get to Vegas, he stayed longer to do business. As much as I wanted to dislike someone who spearheaded an oil company that fracked and drilled all over the earth, Mr. King seemed to keep the environment in mind. King Oil funded two wind energy projects and at least one solar energy farm. Turning his trip to Vegas into business was something Saving Sunsets would recommend: streamline travel and save all parties involved more time and money. It was more than I’d expected out of someone in his position, but exactly what I’d hoped to find.

Bernard was beside himself with excitement. Which wasn’t unusual. My boss was kind of flighty. I didn’t know how he got away with being the CEO, but I guess since the board was made up of his brother-in-law and his childhood dentist, he got to make decisions that would otherwise be questionable. Like the pricey electric car with Saving Sunsets’ logo painted on the sides. It’s a write-off.

I could think of several better ways to use that money, including a raise. It was kind of my job.

Despite Bernard’s questionable example, we tried to keep the environment in mind. Walking between hotels was a better idea than an Uber.

I’d kill for an Uber right now.

My phone buzzed. Since we were early, I stopped and pulled it out of my Saving Sunsets canvas tote. “Hold on. It’s Bernard.” I slid to the edge of the sidewalk to answer. A tongue-tangling couple with shirts that read Just Married almost ran into Brady, but he sidestepped them to stand by me. “Hey.”

“Sapphire.” Bernard’s harried voice filtered through the line. He was usually worked up about something, but this had me shooting a concerned look at Brady.

“Is everything okay?”

“No. Ohmigosh. No. I had no idea. I mean, he married my sister, you’d think he’d be more compassionate. I’m so sorry.”

“For what?” Like most conversations with Bernard, I wanted to scream, Get to the point!

“The board just met and shut us down.”

“Excuse me?”

“Shut. Us. Down.”

I struggled to follow what Bernard said on a good day, but this was startlingly clear. “But. . . but. . .how?”

“Money, Sapphire Jewel. The meeting with King Oil was my Hail Mary, but the board won’t give me another chance.”

“The president is your brother-in-law.” I put it on speaker for Brady to hear. Our heads tipped close to hear our doom.

“He said, and I quote, ‘Too many damn chances for a flake like you.’ I should’ve never trusted him. My sister never had good taste. I’m sorry. The meeting is canceled.”

I exchanged a look with Brady. We’d studied our asses off for this meeting. We’d figured out a way to pitch Saving Sunsets and how we could help King Oil provide education to its investors. We had ideas that could cut twenty years off King Oil’s pledge to be carbon neutral by 2050. All for nothing?

“So we’re going home? Can you send the flight information?” Brady asked. He hated being in suits and bitched about big cities like Vegas. Yet he and I both still lived in DC. Saving money from Saving Sunsets’ paychecks was difficult at best, but job hunting for two rich kids with no experience in the environmental field had been harder than each of us had anticipated. We’d chosen to build our resumes, but it didn’t look like Saving Sunsets was