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The hotel lobby was fairly quiet since it was still early in the afternoon. Sara quickly spotted Byron and Lucy as they crossed through an area of scattered seating areas, heading for a bank of elevators.
“Excuse me!” she called out, hurrying to reach them. “Byron Smith? Lucy?”
The two were still five feet from the elevators when they turned to face her.
“Hi, I’m Sara White,” Sara said, while working to catch her breath and pull her wallet from her purse at the same time. She found it, and extracted her Dayton City Newspaper ID from a fold.
She flashed it at the two of them as she said, “I work for the newspaper. I was hoping that I could ask you a few quick questions?”
Byron gave her a disapproving look. “Now is not the best time. My daughter has a headache. We were just going to go up to our rooms so that she can take some medicine and get some rest.”
“I need to lie down,” Lucy whined. She lifted the shopping bags. “It’s been a very long and tiring morning.”
She literally shopped ‘til she dropped, thought Sara. Aloud she said, “I’m sorry to hear that you have a headache, Ms. Smith. I promise that my questions won’t take more than five minutes. I’m writing up an article about Peak Mine, and I was hoping to get HiTech’s side of the story. As company owners, I can think of no better source for my information.”
Byron scowled. “It was unfair,” he said. “That guy from Sand Hills cheated.”
“He cheated?” Sara asked. “How so?”
“It wasn’t fair,” Byron insisted. “The deal should have gone to us. We offered five million more than the original buying price. If it wasn’t for Sand Hills, we would have gotten it.”
Sara did not see how outbidding was equivalent to cheating, but she decided to move on.
“Which means that you would have had a monopoly on all of the rare earth element mines in the United States. Is that right, Mr. Smith?” she asked.
This question seemed to make Byron uncomfortable. “Sure. Yeah.”
“Your company, HiTech Minerals ... I’ve read that you primarily sell to the US military. Is that correct?”
“We supply the military with materials for their jets and missiles, yes. We also sell to tech manufacturers, environmental companies, and others.”
“But most of the minerals from your mines go to weaponry, am I right?”
“Correct,” Byron said.
Sara didn’t want to waste time looking at her notepad. She relied on her memory to help guide her next question. “I’ve read that you also sell minerals to other military organizations, such as Russia, China, and Iraq. Am I right?”
“We really have to get going. My daughter is sick,” Byron said, uncomfortably.
“If you buy up all of the REE mines, will you continue to supply the US military with materials? Will you cut off some armies, while still supplying others? Or will you simply raise your prices and see who can afford what you have to offer? It seems like a very powerful position to be in.”
Byron narrowed his eyes. “You said that you were writing a piece about the Peak Mine,” he said. “HiTech doesn’t own the Peak Mine... yet.”
“What do you mean yet?” Sara asked, nervously.
“I don’t give up easily, Mrs. White,” Byron said. “I’m determined to own the Peak Mine, and I’ll keep working towards that goal.”
What would this man do, to ensure that he reached his goal? Would he use violence? Sara wondered.
Sara knew that she could not ask this.
Instead she turned to Lucy. “As a co-owner of HiTech Minerals, what are your thoughts on Sand Hills’ acquisition of Peak Mine?” she asked.
“Oh... it’s all part of the game. Yes, Daddy wants all of the mines, but for now, we’re going to have to be happy with most of them. I tell him all the time—do you want your blood pressure to be through the roof? No! So relax. Stop stressing so much.” She patted her father’s arm.
She went on. “This business can be so stressful, if you let it. I try to always manage that. Plenty of self care—that’s my program.”
“Too much self care, if you ask me,” Byron said.
“Oh, Daddy! You could do with taking better care of yourself,” Lucy said to her father. Then she addressed Sara. “Did you know that when he’s working on a sale, he’ll sometimes only sleep three or four hours a night?” Lucy raised her brows. “Can you believe that?”
Sara dutifully shook her head. “No, I can’t imagine, she said. “I have trouble functioning if I get less than six.”
“Oh, me too,” Lucy said. She touched her head. “Which might be the reason for this awful headache I have at the moment. I usually take sedatives at night. Prescription strength. I can’t find them anywhere... I must have forgotten to pack them. Anyways, I fell asleep just fine but woke up at two am when Davis got home from the bar. I heard him slam the door, and bump into furniture. Probably drunk.” Lucy rolled her eyes. “I couldn’t get back to sleep after that.”
Byron reached for his daughter’s elbow, and gave it a pull. “Alright honey,” he said. “This reporter doesn’t need to know all of our family’s personal business.”
As he pulled Lucy towards the elevators, Sara heard him chiding her. “What have I told you about talking to reporters? You shouldn’t go on about Davis like that.”
“What? He’s a drunk!” Lucy said. “He deserves to have his dirty habits aired to the public.”
“He’s your brother!” Byron countered.
“Ugh. Unfortunately,” Lucy said under her breath. She added something else, but it was spoken too quietly for Sara to hear. Though she tried, she couldn't quite make out Byron’s reply, either. They were out of earshot.
Sara watched them board the elevator, and be whisked away to their hotel suites.
Well, that was brief, thought Sara. Interesting, but brief.
She’d been surprised at Lucy’s immaturity, as well as her distaste for her brother. The fact that Davis was a heavy drinker was also unexpected.
Amir did say that the son seemed to rebel against his father’s rigid nature, thought Sara. Maybe his drinking habits are a part of that rebellion.
What does it mean for my case? she wondered.
She was still pondering this as she made her way toward the glass revolving doors that would take her out onto the street. But before she made it to the exit, a man who looked more like an overgrown teen entered the lobby.
Sara knew right away that it was Davis. His eyes and nose were similar to Byron and Lucy’s; the three were clearly related.
He had long, wavy blond hair, and stubble on his chin and cheeks. Whether he was trying to grow a beard intentionally or not, Sara wasn’t sure, but she could see that he had not shaved in quite some time—exactly the opposite of Byron, who had appeared clean shaven and as though he may have just visited a barber that morning, to shape up his tight crew cut.
Davis’s attire was the opposite of his father’s as well. He wore a boxy, oversized Hawaiian tee shirt, loose fitting cargo pants, and white tennis shoes. He had a pair of designer sunglasses propped on his head.
Sara approached him. “Hello, sir, are you by any chance Davis Smith?”
Davis looked her up and down and smiled. “Sure thing, sweets. I’m Davis. And who are you?”
It was clear that he was happy to have a woman as attractive as Sara interested in him.
Sara lifted her chin and stuck out her hand. “Sara White,” she said curtly. “I’m a reporter with the Dayton City Newspaper. I write for the business section.”
Davis’s demeanor immediately changed. “Oh. I thought you might be this chick I’ve been talking to on my dating app. Have you seen anyone waiting around here who looks like her name could be Love Bunny?”
“I’m pretty sure that’s a fake name,” Sara said.
“What would you know? Are you on dating apps?” Davis asked. He was starting to perk up.
“I don’t date,” Sara replied flatly. She immediately thought about Amir’s invitation to dinner. A smile threatened to spread across her lips at the thought of him, but she forced it away. It would do no good to encourage this man.
“Too bad,” Davis said. “You’re a real looker.”
“Mr. Smith, could I ask you a few questions about your companies bidding war with Sand Hills?” Sara asked.
Davis grimaced. “For a reporter, you’re pretty behind the times. That’s over. Haven’t you heard? We lost. The bidding war ended last night.”
“I’m aware of that,” Sara said. “I was hoping to hear your opinion about how everything went. I’m doing a follow up piece on the sale, and I think readers would be really interested to hear from you.”
“You should talk to my father,” Davis said. “He’s the one who usually handles the press.”
“But you’re a partial owner of the company,” Sara said. “You’re just as important as he is.”
“Hrmph,” Davis grunted. “Try telling that to my old man.”
“I already talked to your father, actually,” Sara said. “He just went up stairs with your sister. She wasn’t feeling well.”
“What? Lucy, not feeling well?” Davis said sarcastically. “What a shocker.”
“Is she sick often?” Sara asked.
“Only when there’s work to be done,” Davis said.
“And your father allows that?” Sara asked.
Davis clammed up. Sara saw that she was pushing her luck. She changed tactics. “I’m interested in what you thought of the negotiations,” she said. “Your father seemed to think that Sand Hills was cheating. I want to hear your perspective.”
Davis puffed up his chest. “They out bid us fair and square,” he said. “But that doesn’t mean that we’re out of the running. We mean to own Peak Mines eventually, and you can bet we’ll make that happen.”
“Your father said the same thing,” Sara said. “Does that mean you, your father, and Lucy will try to make Sand Hills reconsider?”
Davis looked disgusted by this. “Lucy isn’t capable of making things happen. All she does in meetings is complain about this, that, and the other thing—it’s too hot, she’s thirsty, the chairs are uncomfortable. I swear, once—” he stopped short.
“Once what?” Sara asked.
“Never mind,” Davis said. Then he craned his neck around, looking at the faces in the lobby. “I’m guessing Love Bunny is here somewhere,” he said. He looked down at his watch. “We agreed on a one pm meeting. I’m going to take her wine tasting. Then we’re going to go to a club and go dancing. Do you dance?”
He gave Sara that creepy up-and-down look again.
“No,” Sara said.
“Never?” Davis asked. “Girl, you need to loosen up. No dating, no dancing... What’s wrong with you?”
Sara straightened up taller. “Nothing is wrong with me,” she said.
“I always take my dates dancing. You’d be a great dancer—believe me. In fact, if you ever want to be in a dance video, give me a call. I have a YouTube channel. I make my own music videos.”
“You’re a performer?” Sara asked.
Davis nodded proudly. “Yeah. I sing and dance. I also direct and produce the videos. We have over ten thousand followers.”
“Sounds like you have a whole other career,” Sara said.
“It’s not enough to pay the bills, yet,” Davis said. “But it sure takes up a heck of a lot of time. I mean, shooting the videos isn’t so bad. That can be done in an afternoon. It’s editing the videos that’s the biggest time suck. Sometimes it takes me weeks to get it right.”
“I’m sure they’re good, if you have that many followers,” Sara said politely.
“Oh, they’re good. And you would be a great addition. I can see you in some nice short shorts, dancing all—” He broke into a dance move that truly disturbed Sara.
“Mr. Smith!” Sara said, flustered. “I told you, I don’t dance.”
“Oh, that’s right. You’re too busy with your ‘business reporting’.” He lifted his nose into the air and took on a snooty voice as he said this.
Is that what I sound like? Sara wondered, offended.
“Well, get in touch with me if you ever want to have fun,” Davis said. “You can find my videos online. I’m under NYC Movz—that’s M-o-v-z, with a ‘z’. You’ll like the videos, I promise. You might even learn a thing or two.” He gave Sara a wink.
Then, as if he wasn’t being inappropriate enough, he added, “Sure you don’t want to see my room? I have the only room with a patio that leads right out to the pool deck. I could mix you a drink.”
“I am absolutely sure,” Sara said.
He chuckled. “Can’t hurt to ask. Good luck with your article, sweets.”
He turned and walked away from her. She heard him approach another woman. “Are you Love Bunny?”
Sara gave her body a little wiggle, as if she could physically shake off Davis’s creepy advances.
Then she made a beeline for the hotel exit. She was done talking to Davis, and she wanted to be as far away from him as possible.
Plus, she had a junkyard to visit.