"What are you doing?" he asks. He looks worried, and he should be.
I may not look the part right now, but I’ve kicked into CEO mode. Confidently, I stride over to where the gentleman is standing.
"Hey, sorry to interrupt. I'm Kayla, Brice's friend. Mind if I look at the contract? I deal with them all day at work," I ask the woman behind the counter while ignoring the guy next to me.
The relief is evident on her face. "That would be great," she says with a smile.
"Now, little lady, this is between me and Ms. Graham here and the contract is confidential," he says in his slick car salesman’s voice.
I want to give him a black eye for calling me “little lady,” but I know this won't help the situation.
"Has she signed an NDA?" I ask.
He laughs, but there is something else going on behind his eyes. Something I don't like, even if I can't put my finger on it.
"No, she hasn't. This is a business arrangement."
"Then, she is free to show the contract to anyone she likes. Even if she had signed an NDA, she could still show the contract to her legal representation. To not allow her to do so is illegal. Consider me her representation." I snatch the contract from his hand.
He wasn't expecting the move, so I grab it easily. When he tries to grab it back, Brice is right there. A solid wall of muscle to keep him away while I read over it. The first few pages are all standard, lining up the terms and payments, who is selling what, where the products would be sold. But buried several pages in is what he has been trying to hide.
"There is a reason he doesn't want you to read this contract. See this section here?" I point to the bottom paragraph. "It means he would have exclusive rights to sell what you make, and you wouldn't even be able to sell them yourself. The next paragraph states you are required to supply him with a minimum of a hundred pieces a month, and during the fourth quarter, two hundred a month."
"I can't even make that for myself now!" she gasps.
"If you don’t, he can withhold your earnings and you would owe him for the loss of sales. I strongly suggest you don't sign this contract nor do business with this man or anyone associated with him again," I say and make a note of the company name on the contact.
"Don't listen to her! What does some country girl know about contracts?" The man tries to discredit me.
I have to physically push Brice aside because he's hell-bent on standing between me and this snake.
"I'm sorry I didn't catch your name," I say.
He straightens his back and pulls a card from his coat pocket.
“Mortimer Jenkins the Third” it reads. While the name sounds familiar, that doesn't surprise me.
"Well, let me introduce myself, Mortimer." I hold out my hand to him. "I'm Kayla Bartrum, CEO, and owner of Bartrum Enterprises. As a man from Dallas, I'm sure you have heard of us." I smile sweetly. At least I hope it comes off that way.
His face pales and he gathers up his things, realizing I do know exactly what I was talking about.
"As Ms. Bartrum said, we won't be doing any business with you. Don't step foot in my store again, Mr. Jenkins," Ms. Graham says.
Mr. Jenkins can't get out of the store fast enough and doesn't say another word. I pocket his card just before I’m swallowed in a huge hug. I missed Ms. Graham coming from behind the counter, and now she’s embracing me.
"Thank you so much! You saved my business. I don't know how I can repay you!"
Brice says, "Shelia, let the woman breathe," and she steps back.
"No need to repay me, just promise to never sign a contract without a lawyer looking at it. Those snakes are a dime a dozen in Dallas. Always trying to prey on people they think are easy targets. Particularly single females. It’s better to walk away than getting sucked into a deal like that," I say.
"Oh, I swear it! I’ll always have a lawyer look over any contracts. Now, what were you two doing here today? And thank the Lord you were!"
"Oh, I was here to get a dress for Ford and Savannah's wedding. Can I try these on?"
I reach for the dresses I had Brice hold.
"Of course, of course! Right this way. Whatever dress you want is on the house!"