17 October

“Yeah, I’m still in my office. You know what they’re calling it around here? Bloody Wednesday.”

“How’s it going?”

“What the fuck, do you think I like to see grown men cry? Days like today, I wish I was pumping gas in Iowa.”

“That’s not what you’re paid for.”

“I know, but I can always dream, can’t I?”

“How did it go with him?”

“Well, I made him an offer.”

“And?”

“Hard to tell. Of course I made it sound better than it really is, though he doesn’t know that. Well, he didn’t exactly jump at it, but he didn’t jump out the window either. Said he wants to think about it. I suggested he run some numbers. Has he called you about it?”

“Yes. I’d say he’s intrigued.”

“Jesus Christ. I hope to hell I haven’t let you talk me into one humongous mistake.”

“Nobody has talked you into anything. It was your decision.”

“Sure it was. I was for biting the bullet, you know that. Thanks to you and our friend, the attorney, now I’m gonna to have to tap-dance him for as long as it takes.”

“I repeat: It was your decision.”

“Sure. Well, maybe we’ll get lucky, maybe he’ll find another job.”

“Maybe he will.”

“Let us pray.”