Months ago he had trusted Yvonne. He showed her his true face, and believed she had done the same. This was before the initial run completely sold out. And ahead of her announcement on national television that the whole thing was her idea.
They agreed to meet at the coffee shop where it all started. Neither would bring a lawyer. She promised not to record their conversation.
Reid arrived a half-hour early, but she was already there.
He brought one trick with him, but she instantly saw through his tactic. “You have them with you, don’t you? In the backpack?” she asked. He nodded, opened the bag, and placed the shirts between them.
She unfolded the shirts. Each was a bright color with a small logo near the collar. “I still hate the name,” she said.
A tall man on his way out of the cafe noticed the array of shirts. “How’d you get all those TB-shirts? I heard they’re on crazy backorder.”
“I’m the creator,” Reid answered.
“Is it true,” began the tall man “even though you claim that for each shirt you sell a dollar goes to eradicating Tuberculosis, most of the money goes to lining the pocket of your own corrupt NGO?”
Yvonne recognized the man. She seized her opening. “Yes, that’s one-hundred percent correct,” she said. “And you can quote me on that.”
She stood up, poured her coffee across the shirts, and continued, “TB-shirts are a scam, and as soon as I learned I arranged this meeting with my former business partner. I’ve relinquished any claim of ownership in the company. I refuse to stand by corruption.”
Reid was speechless. The tall man glared at him and handed his card to Yvonne. “I’m in a little rush now, but I’ll call you. This’ll run in my Tuesday column.”
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