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“I’ve had an idea for a project, and I wanted to get your opinion.”
“Sure,” I said, trying to keep my cool.
I was excited and honored that he would think to ask me, though I still had to wonder why. There were so many other agents at the firm who were older and more experienced than I was.
“Who, besides yourself of course, would you say is the best agent?”
“Thomas,” I said quickly, though it also happened to be true.
“Really?”
“Yes, he’s a real workhorse. Been in the business longer than anyone and really knows the ins and outs. I mean, you don’t need me to tell you, but he got us some of our biggest clients, including White & White.”
“That’s not quite what I meant. See I was thinking – ”
“O Fortuna” rang out over the table and Max had to get his phone, not really looking happy about it.
“Morgan,” he said sharply, “Yeah, oh, hey man. You what? Fuck!”
Tossing a twenty onto the table, Max got up and walked away from the table, taking a small bit of my self-esteem along with him. Left alone at the bistro table, next to the dangerously bustling sidewalk, I sipped my hot chocolate with whipped cream, not really wanting my bagel anymore and quietly cried.
Chapter Two – Max
I felt bad about leaving Carrie like that. I left enough money to pay for both of us plus a generous tip, but I didn’t look back. Not because I didn’t care but because I couldn’t. I had to focus on the call, and I knew if I saw her, I would hang up immediately and go back to her. Good in the short term, terrible in the long term.
Mitch Peters didn’t call unless something big was happening, so I picked up every time my phone rang with his number. He had yet to steer me wrong and was a large part of the reason that the firm was worth as much as it was. I couldn’t leave him hanging. Damned if you do, damned if you don’t.
“What’s the good news?” I asked, having dispensed with the pleasantries and preliminary bad news.
“The good news is I have Whitman on the hook.”
“Ulysses Whitman?”
“The same. He’s wiggling a bit, but I think I can reel him in.”
“Geez, someone likes their morbid fishing metaphors.”
“Yes, I do. Though the fact remains, he would be one of our biggest clients to date if only we could bag him.”
“We’re bagging now?”
“It’s just a turn of phrase,” Mitch explained calmly.
“Turn it back.”
“Smart-ass.” “That’s why you love me,” I beamed.
“That and the money,” Mitch amended, “the meeting is later today.”
“So, what do you need me for, O golden one?”
“Now, now, there is no call to be a meanie pants. I am just feeling a bit fatigued at the moment and could use some back up.”
“I’m your Huckleberry,” I said, putting on my best Georgian accent.
“Glad to hear it. The meeting is at two in room 213 of The Atrium.”
“The Atrium?”
“Is there an echo in the line?”
“Prick,” I smiled.
“And that’s why you love me.”
“As well as the clients,” I amended.
“A match made of conscience and mutual benefit.”
“Which is why it works,” I agreed.
“What are you up to?”
“The usual brilliance and innovation,” I said, the very picture of modesty, “I’ve actually had a fairly brilliant idea about how to boost our client list even higher.”
“Only fairly brilliant? Dear me, you must be slipping.”
“It’s called modesty.”
“Can’t say I’m familiar,” Mitch confessed.
“I’m even asking for outside input,” I beamed, greatly proud of my humility.
“I’ll be back in a minute, okay?”
“Why, what’s happening?” I inquired curiously.
“I’m just gonna pop over to the window and check if the apocalypse has started.”
“Only in my heart, dear boy.”
“I’m a year older than you.”
“Only chronologically.”
“Tell me, oh wise one, who is the enchanting maiden who hath beguiled thine heart?”
Generally, I would have been cautious about revealing my heart, but Mitch and I had known each other since kindergarten. He was like the brother I’d never had.
“Carrie,” I said, after a pause for effect.
“Your assistant?” Mitch clarified.
“The same.”
“I can’t say I’m surprised.”
“You’re not?”
“Of course not, I’ve seen the girl. I might have thought she was a bit young for you but follow your heart. Just not under the age barrier.”
“Good rule for life,” I agreed.
There was no problem there. I knew for a fact that Carrie was 19. Nearly 20 really. Well past the legal threshold. Besides, I was hardly a candidate for a dirty old man, not even out of my 20s yet.
Give it a couple of months and we would be in the same decade of life. Carrie at the beginning and me at the end, but it still counted. Not that it mattered anyway. Beyond what was illegal, it all came down to personal opinion and everyone could keep theirs to themselves as far as I was concerned.
