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Chapter_61
I entered the factory gates, but before I could even step past the security checkpoint, a stern guard stopped me cold.
“I need to meet Mr. Fred Meyers,” I said, my voice steady but my heart racing.
The guard studied me for a moment, his eyes narrowing before he spoke with cold finality. “Mr. Meyers isn’t here. He’s on a business trip.”
Frustration surged in me, but I kept my composure. “Do you know where he went? I need to find him. My time here is limited.”
He shook his head, his tone dripping with indifference. “I wouldn’t know. Now, if you’re done here—”
“Can you at least give me his phone number?” I asked, my voice trembling despite myself. “I came from out of town to meet him. I just need to speak with him, even briefly.”
The guard’s expression soured further. “I don’t have it,” he snapped.
I was nearly out of options, but I pressed on. “I’m here to discuss a business partnership. Can’t I at least leave a message for him? Or speak to someone else in charge?”
He waved his hand dismissively. “The marketing department handles that kind of thing. Do you really need to meet the boss himself? We get people like you all the time—just wasting our time. Get out of here.”
I couldn’t believe it. How could a factory this large hire someone so rude? But I didn’t have time to argue. The rain was coming down harder, and the cold seeped into my bones.
As I stood there, shivering, I noticed several phone numbers for different departments displayed on the security guard’s desk. Swallowing my pride, I tried one last time.
“Please,” I said, my voice almost pleading. “Could you at least give me some hot water? I’ll leave right after. I’ve come a long way.”
The guard’s face twisted with annoyance. “Enough with your tricks. I don’t have anything for you. Now, leave.” He gave me a shove, pushing me toward the gate.
I almost stumbled as I stepped out into the downpour, and the gate slammed behind me with finality. My umbrella was useless against the relentless rain. By the time I was halfway down the street, I was soaked through, but it was the chill in my heart that hurt the most.
The cab I had arrived in was already gone. I was stranded, and I couldn’t go back to Matthew. If I stayed here too long, he would start asking questions.
I needed to find Fred. I needed his number.
I stood against the factory wall, hoping someone—anyone—would come out. The rain pounded down, my hope fading with each passing second.
Finally, a car pulled up, and I rushed forward, flagging it down. A middle-aged man rolled down the window and looked me over.
“What do you need?” he asked, his voice rough.
“I came to talk to Mr. Fred Meyers,” I said, desperation creeping into my voice. “Or anyone from the marketing department. Could you help me find them?”
He glanced at me, then gestured for me to get in. “Get in. I’ll give you a ride to a place where you can catch a cab.”
“Thank you,” I said, relief flooding me as I climbed into the car.
As we drove off, my hands still trembled, and the rain outside only seemed to make the situation more unbearable.
“Don’t thank me yet,” the man said, his voice neutral. “I’m just dropping you off at a place where you can get a cab. Mr. Fred isn’t here. You’re wasting your time.”
My heart sank, but I wasn’t ready to give up. “I came all this way to discuss a project with him,” I explained, my voice firm despite the rising panic. “I have a proposal ready, and I’m on a tight schedule. Could you at least pass on a message for me? Tell him Chloe Hartz from Foswood is looking for him.”
The man was quiet for a moment as he considered my words. Then he spoke again, slower this time. “I’ll tell him. You can stay at the guesthouse for now. I’ll let him know.”
Disappointment gnawed at me, but it was better than nothing. I jotted down my number on a scrap of paper and handed it to him. “Just tell him my name. He’ll come and meet me. Thank you for your help.”
He hesitated, then said, “I’m… the other Mr. Meyers.”
It was a small but significant piece of information. As the car slowed, I grabbed a pamphlet from the seat beside me. I wasn’t sure if he would pass on the message, but the pamphlet had the factory’s contact number. It was my backup plan.
I quickly exited the car and waved a thank-you before it sped off. I was soaked, but I didn’t care. I could only hope that the man would do as he promised.
Now, I had to wait. But I would meet Fred Meyers, no matter what it took.