Sins of Spring PRINT

Excerpt From: Sins of Spring

Takeover by D.J.Manly

The CEO of Simpson and Associates Inc. stood up in front of the podium and looked out at the members of the business community. Only the elite were present in the huge room at the downtown Hilton Hotel.

The president of the local Chamber of Commerce, as well as managers of several Toronto banking institutions, sat in the front row. They'd all come to applaud Trevor Simpson and Associates for gaining a near monopoly in the transport industry.

Clive Roberts sat at a table next to the VIP crowd. Several terminal managers and their wives sat at the table with him. He was the only one unaccompanied but that was all right. He had no time for romance and all the hassle that came along with it.

Mark had left him a year ago, and he'd done him a favour, really. When he'd lost his job, Clive had been stuck paying the bills for months. As soon as Mark had found another, he had written Clive a cheque for a few hundred dollars and packed his bags. Mark had accused him of being unable to share.

"What do you mean, unable to share?" Clive had protested. "I've been footing the bills for months."

"Yeah, and you've never let me forget it," Mark had countered. "You could never share your life with anyone. One day, you just may discover that there's more to life than money."

Okay, so Clive had to admit he had felt a little let down when Mark had left him. He had loved him in his own way. It wasn't his fault he had a hard time with this sharing business. It was the way he'd grown up. His mother had died when he was six, and his father couldn't seem to hold a job after that. He drank. Clive had done what he could to make sure his little sister and he had something to eat. As a result, he was a hoarder. He hoarded everything from food to money. And it was never enough. There was always this fear that he'd come up short.

He'd worked his way through college doing any job he could find, and, with a degree in computers and business, had landed the job with Simpson and Associates. Even today, with a big salary and an expense account, Clive felt insecure. At Mark's insistence, he'd tried counselling. It had worked for a while then he'd gone back to his old self again.

Luckily, Simpson and Associates had soon discovered that Clive had a talent for more than just solving computer problems. He was good at finding cost-saving solutions. Already, he'd saved the company millions of dollars.

Simpson and Associates had been going through a period of restructuring when he'd been hired on. They'd wanted to improve their efficiency, cut the fat, and increase their market share. Clive had offered them some ideas, and they'd told him to run with them.

Within three years, Clive had increased efficiency and made the company more competitive. Mass firings, undercutting the competition, and rerouting the trucks had saved the company a fortune. Turning a profit, amassing money, and swallowing up the smaller trucking companies was the bottom line, and Clive instinctively understood how to do that.

When Trevor Simpson began his presentation, a projection screen appeared behind the silver-haired man. Statistical charts and graphs explained the rationalisation and restructuring the company had undergone. The word 'profit' was mentioned often when he talked about undercutting the competition.

Clive noticed that when Simpson said, "We have almost won a total monopoly in the industry," he looked directly at Clive. Clive knew what he meant. Frost Trucking was the 'almost'—Clive's last mountain to climb. Clive had made it his mission to know everything about Frost. And they should have been easy to break, but, for some reason, they kept hanging on. What stumped Clive about Frost Trucking was that it was no more than a little Mom and Pop outfit with some sentimental hogwash philosophy about putting customers first. Sure, every company spouted stuff like that, but Frost meant it. That philosophy, along with the old man who adhered to it, had put the company in a very vulnerable position.

Frost was the thorn in his side. He was obsessed with it and he vowed that, before this year was through, Frost was going to be his.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Simpson called out suddenly, "let me introduce to you my top efficiency expert, Mr Clive Roberts."

Clive stood up and took a bow. There was applause, which was decidedly less animated coming from the terminal managers. They resented the power he had to point out their shortcomings and to terminate their jobs tomorrow if he decided the company could operate just fine without them.

The Kaupe by A.J.Llewellyn

"Aloha! Aloha!" Dino waved, blinking into the morning's bright glare as he spotted his friends standing in front of a row of tiny, fake grass shacks, with pristine thatched roofs. The shack with the emerald green signs marked National Car Rental, their designated meeting place. They'd all arrived!

He was madly pleased to see everybody had made it. He was already in tropical idyll mode thanks to the lei greeting he'd received at his arrival gate via his package deal through Pleasant Holidays. The fact that one now had to pay an extra twenty—five dollars for the traditional Hawaiian welcome didn't bother him too much.

What did bother him was that he hadn't spotted a single hot guy on the plane and now none of his friends seemed very happy or excited to see him. As he dragged his suitcase on wheels across the sweltering parking lot, nobody moved a muscle or returned his cheery greeting.

"Can you believe we were having drinks in Los Angeles last night and here we are two thousand miles away...together again at lunchtime?" he called out.

Nobody said a word. Dino Perez didn't think a thing like flying safely from one place to another was small potatoes this day and age. To him, it was nothing short of miraculous. This trip is meant to be!

His friends stood in a small semicircle, preoccupied with apparent mini—dramas, judging by their long faces. His heart sank.

"There's a line." Jay pointed. His tone suggested it was the end of the world.

Dino shrugged and dug into his laptop bag for his sunglasses. Man, it was hot. He couldn't remember Oahu ever being this humid. What the hell had happened to the island's gently wafting trade winds? It was spring. It was supposed to be perfect temperatures. Not stifling. He glanced around him. Construction going on everywhere. More and more cars were jammed into the gigantic multi-car rental agency lot at Honolulu Airport than he'd ever seen. More and more office buildings blocking out the wind...and the perennial palm trees.

The classic line from Joni Mitchell's Big Yellow Taxi reverberated in his mind...

They paved paradise and put up a parking lot...

Gone were the days when half-clad men and women rowed to visiting ships in small canoes, brandishing sweet—smelling leis and the promise of so much more.

Ah...those must have been fine, glorious times. Nowadays you clicked a link for the privilege of a factory-produced, scentless, cheerless greeting.

Stop it. You're here. Your heart's home.

Dino eyed his three friends as they all glowered in the stifling heat. Flávia, his forty—year—old friend who dreamt of being a cougar, was going to be his roommate. She wore jeans and a T—shirt, which surprised but delighted him. She always wore suits and heels back home. He hoped she'd left every last strand of pearls she owned with them. She was very cool towards him. Oh, great. This is a spiffing start to our holiday.

Jay and Colin, the fiftyish gay married couple who'd tagged along for the vacation, seemed to be arguing with each other over something stupid.

"Is there a problem?" he asked, wishing for the answer no.

"Colin pocketed the complimentary headphones from the flight. Who does that?" Jay griped. Dino privately agreed it was ludicrous but said nothing as Jay went on and on.

"You're so cheap and besides, they give us another pair on the way home!" Jay shouted at his husband. All of which was true.

Jay and Colin—who rarely left their home to buy groceries let alone fly two thousand miles to Honolulu—seemed more suitably attired for an Arctic expedition than an island getaway. Colin—who was, to be fair, a bit of a fuddy—duddy—wore corduroy pants, a flannel shirt and a thin tie. His only hint of relaxing his academic rules was a pair of brown leather sandals. Dino stared down at them.

"Why are you wearing socks with those?"

Colin gave him an incredulous look. "Because sand might get in my toes. I hate when that happens."

Oh, boy.

Spring Discovery by Serena Yates

"This is it. My life is officially over." Shawn Adens made sure his mouth didn't move and no sound louder than the softest whisper escaped his dry, cracked lips. The need to say the words out loud in the face of total despair was overwhelming. What he said, at least to himself, was the last remaining area of his life that he truly controlled.

"Get on with it, boy, you're holding everyone up." Uncle Bryson stood right behind him, breathing down his neck and far too close for comfort. His bony hand was suddenly on Shawn's shoulder, squeezing painfully. It was a reminder of who was in charge now.

Shawn tightened his grip on the small shovel the priest had handed him until his knuckles turned white. He scooped up the requisite amount of earth, took one last look at the casket containing the man who had ruined his life, and threw the dirt into the grave with enough force to make a hollow sound before the small clumps bounced back several times.

"Thanks for nothing, Dad." He spoke loud enough for his uncle to hear, not caring about the consequences.

"Shawn!" Uncle Bryson added more earth before turning his attention to Shawn. "Your father was a godless man, leading you astray into a sinful life of temporary wealth, but he still deserves your respect. Especially now that he's been punished for his numerous sins."

Shawn took one last look into the grave, shrugged and turned away. He didn't think of his father as godless or sinful, but their wealth sure had been temporary. Money made in the stock market was what had enabled his father to move to Philadelphia, taking Shawn with him right after his mother had vanished when he was only five. Working for a major investment firm had kept them wealthy and Shawn had gone to all the best schools, never looking back.

Now that his father had lost everything and killed himself in a fit of what Shawn assumed was shame, Uncle Bryson had marched back into his life and taken over. Being only sixteen and with living relatives who were happy to take care of him, or so they said, he had little choice in the matter. The authorities were glad he wasn't going to be their responsibility and had sanctioned Uncle Bryson's guardianship. His uncle had made it quite clear that Shawn was coming back to Franklin, Tennessee, to live with him and Aunt Jennifer and learn to atone for his presumed sins committed while in 'the big city'.

"Come on, time to take you home to Franklin." Uncle Bryson motioned toward the battered Ford he called his own. "No need to stick around."

Shawn followed quietly. There would be no wake, since there was no money left for Shawn or anyone else. The banks and debtors had taken what little was left, and his uncle had made it clear he wasn't willing to pay for even the smallest get-together. Shawn snorted as he got into the back of the car. Not that there was anyone here. A few reporters had attended, a couple of men he presumed to be ex-colleagues of his father, and two of their neighbours had shown their faces, but that had been it. For a man who'd been one of the most popular party throwers in the city, that was an extremely poor turnout.

But then, nobody wanted to be associated with failure.

And that was what his father would always be remembered as. Unfortunately, this label, by association, now also applied to Shawn. It was the only thing he'd inherited and the one attribute he could have done without. His previous plans of becoming a novelist were as obsolete and nonexistent as his country club membership. Uncle Bryson owned a farm and had told him he needed help, so that had become Shawn's future as well.

For now, there was nothing he could do.

He settled back into the uncomfortable seat, wiggling to find the spot where the least number of broken springs would poke him in the ass, and closed his eyes. They'd be on the road a while, and the best thing he could do was switch off his mind and rest. He suspected that was pretty much his lot for the next two years. Once he turned eighteen, though, the rules would change.

Nothing could keep him in Franklin then. He'd come back to Philly and build a life of his own, if it took him years to do it. Just because his father had been an idiot didn't mean he was going to suffer for the rest of his life.

No way!