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“I’m so used to seeing you in a suit and tie,” Kathy says, clearly flustered.
“One of the benefits of taking extended time off is not having to wear the uniform every day,” he says, hating the forced joviality in his voice.Can she hear it?
“So, you’re not working?”
Sean hears the unvoiced “still” she diplomatically left out of her question. “I’m actually mulling over a few offers. But I want to make sure that where I end up is really where I want to be. I find I’m in no hurry to rejoin the rat race.”
“Well, wherever you end up, they’ll be lucky to have you.”
“Thank you. You’re very kind.” He smiles.Condescending bitch,he thinks.
He’ll shoot her first.
“Is Harvey in?”
Kathy glances toward the president’s office halfway down the north wall. “He is, but I think he’s in a meeting.”
Sean’s smile hardens. “Could you check?”
He waits while Kathy presses the digits of Harvey Shulman’s extension. “Mr. Shulman,” she says. “Sorry to interrupt, but Sean Grant is here to see you. No, he didn’t say.” She lowers the phone to her chest. “He’s asking if this is in regard to anything in particular?”
Sean shakes his head, determined to keep smiling when what he really wants to do is put a bullet right between the woman’s eyes. “No. Just hoping to say a friendly hello.”
“He says he’s just hoping to say a friendly hello,” Kathy parrots into the phone. “Certainly. I’ll tell him.” She replaces the receiver. “Mr. Shulman is just finishing up with a long-distance call. He shouldn’t be much longer. If you’d care to have a seat…” She motions toward two black leather chairs tucked into the corner of the reception area.
“No, I’m happy to stand.” Sean approaches the door to the inner sanctum and leans against it, watching the imprint of his warm breath stain the cool glass and noting the women in their short skirts and tight pants going about their business on the other side. He zeroes in on Barbara Taylor and Vince McKenzie, two of the senior V.P.s who still have their jobs, conferring over some document. Neither has reached out to him since he was let go.
He’ll shoot them next.
Or maybe he’ll go right for the big man himself. Hell, might as well start at the top. He imagines himself moving from office to office, spraying bullets in all directions as he goes, every now and then pausing to fire indiscriminately at whoever is foolhardy enough to try to escape.
Someone will undoubtedly call the police, and they’ll arrive, order him to stand down, to surrender his weapons. They’ll call his wife in hopes of persuading her to talk some sense into him. But she won’t answer because she’ll already be dead. He’ll have shot her before leaving the house.
In the end, of course, they’ll kill him, too. And he’ll go down in the proverbial blaze of glory. Suicide by cop, he believes is the term they use. The perfect solution.
All’s well that ends well. Right, Pop?
He knows they’re never going to offer him his old job back. Pride would stop them, no matter how much they wanted him back. Shulman would be far too embarrassed to admit he’d made a mistake. And he certainly isn’t going to beg for it, let alone agree to a pay cut. What the hell had he been thinking?
He returns to the reception counter. “I’m gonna go,” he tells Kathy Millard. “Tell Harvey I’ll catch him another time.”
“Are you sure?” she asks, clearly surprised by his abrupt change of mind. “He should be out any minute.”
“No, that’s okay. I have another appointment, and I didn’t realize how late it was.” He steps inside the elevator, deciding to head to the nearest gun store, decide on a weapon, then fill out the various forms necessary to get this show on the road. He’ll figure out a way to come up with the money later. “Nice to see you again, Kathy,” he calls to her as the elevator doors are closing. “Take care of yourself.”
