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He’d been looking around, but the other firms only wanted him for his real estate prowess. He should lie, but it went against the grain. The whole reason for leaving G&L and real estate was about not cutting corners.
“No,” he answered.
Yogev nodded and tapped his index finger on the glass that coated his desk.
Erez waited, pushing down the wave of doubt and uncertainty. Several months ago, his young brother took over managing a pub in suburbia. Earlier today he asked Erez to take his shift tonight—he was going to a final audition for a role in a TV series. If all else failed, Erez would bartend. He winced at this but held onto his guns. His boss took a deep breath, and Erez readied himself. He was strangely calm as he waited to be dismissed. Deep in his gut, in a place he hadn’t visited for a long time, this felt right.
“Okay, Erez, no need to quit. If you’re so determined to leave real estate, I’ll help you get the Tractus position.”
He blinked, unsure he had heard correctly.
“You’ll help me?”
“Yes, I’ll have to grease a lot of palms and turn in many favors to even get you considered for this, and I’ll do it. But I need you to do me a tiny favor first. There’s an old army buddy of mine. This guy heads a group of early investors in startups. They can raise upwards of two to three million dollars for a startup.”
“Impressive,” Erez chimed in, hardly listening, still processing this stunning turn of events.
“Now, a new investor joined, but he wants due diligence on this new investment my buddy found, and he wants it from a certified accountant. That is where you come in. Look into the company. It’s a very promising startup called Kisharti. Check the books, and that the numbers add up. It’s an early-stage startup. I doubt they have any concrete numbers other than salaries and overseas flights.”
“No problem,” he answered, wondering how he would fit this extra gig into his overloaded schedule.
“Be sure to write a favorable report.” His boss winked at him.
“I’ll write what I find,” he barked, immediately regretting it when his boss’s mouth thinned.
“You’ll find nothing, Erez. Do this right and I’ll start moving mountains for you here, I promise.”
He’d write what he found, but his boss was probably right, and he would find nothing. Yogev’s black eyes held his, and he finally nodded his assent.
Chapter 2
Just Ask For It
“I heard,” Orna said, “that he is twenty-nine years old and has a beast of a motorcycle. He takes you home, and the ride itself is foreplay. Like all this, buzzing, warm, large vehicle, there, between your thighs.”
Orna, Dafna’s best friend and ex- sister-in-law, was very drunk. The ‘he’ she was referring to was the barman of this pub. Dafna and her three best friends were at the new neighborhood ‘Irish’ pub, nearly by themselves. The other two occupied tables were hosting soldiers in uniforms, who sat under a large sign that said, "free first drinks for soldiers in uniforms." The walls held old-fashioned posters advertising Guinness, although it didn’t appear on the menu.
“Keep your voice down,” Sigal hissed, her blonde curls bobbing as she hiccupped and giggled. Like Dafna, she was VP of human resources and had been her friend for the last twenty years. They worked together in their first job, bonding through two cycles of downsizing and dozens of gut-wrenching employee terminations.
Dafna stole a glance at the man reading quietly, who looked older than twenty-nine. He was broad shouldered and tanned, with a firm jaw and close-cropped dark hair.
“Listen,” Orna whispered, and all four of them scooted a little closer to the table and got their heads together conspiratorially, “he’s the reason we’re meeting here tonight. He is a stud. He arrived around four months ago and ever since then…he’s been spreading joy.”
“I haven’t heard anything,” Dafna said. The pub was only a twenty-minute ride from her home, but she had never been there.
The barman flipped a page. His palm was so large he didn’t need both hands to do it, only using his thumb. He had on a light blue T-shirt that matched the dark blue intricate tattoo of two manta rays swimming on his left arm. She watched the play of veins and hair and the moving sea creatures as he flipped another page in his book.
“You never hear anything. You’re always late, stuck in your Kisharti startup all day.” Orna, the legendary principal at the Tel Mond elementary school, knew everyone and everything.
Dafna worked long hours, liked it, and was tired of apologizing for liking it. “I had an important management meeting. We’re going to be reviewed by a CPA. It’s for a potential investor.”
“He’s totally your type,” Sigal said to Dafna, her blue eyes shining with mischief.
“He’s everyone’s type.” Avigail’s mouth was turned down, and her tone was cold. She was the youngest member of the group and had been very quiet tonight.
“Maybe I should change my type.” Dafna was extremely uncomfortable with the direction the conversation took.
“You shouldn’t,” Sigal stated. “Ilan, your ex, is super-hot.”
