> Owen
I was getting pissed. I’d spent the last hour on the phone, dealing with the worst customer support I had ever encountered. As smooth jazz played on the other end of the line, I looked down on Grant Park through the floor-to-ceiling windows of my top-floor office in the center of the Loop, the largest financial district in the country. In a way, I was grateful for the pause and the rare moments I could take to contemplate my business, my life, and everything.
And there was a lot to think about. My roots were in Chicago, as was my business, but lately I felt like I needed a change…
“Mr. Hayes?” a woman on the other end said, bringing me back to reality. It was a new voice – I guessed I was now speaking to the head manager, or whoever was in charge of that shitty showroom. “My name is…”
I cleared my throat, loudly interrupting the woman. I had calmed down some, and was able to speak, respectfully, yet firmly. I said, “Let me tell you something. I trust you’re well aware of who I am, and by now I hope to God you understand what I’m asking of you. Please, don’t waste any more of my very valuable time today. I need this done as we agreed, by Monday. I don’t care what’s stopping you. Contact my assistant if you need any help.”
I ended the call, tossing the phone on the couch in the middle of the office. Normally, I wouldn’t have cared to speak to some low-tier manager, but the last couple of days made me want to find any excuse not to speak to the law firm. Business had been great, but every once in a while, certain government agencies would set out on a witch-hunt, and I would have to find and navigate certain backroads.
The speaker phone on my desk came to life: “Mr. Hayes?”
“Here, Monica,” I called, still standing inches from the window.
“Lucas Baxter is on line three. Says you have to talk to him. Says it’s important.”
“Have I ever had unimportant calls?” I smirked. “Tell him I’ll be with him in five.”
“Got it.”
There wasn’t anything for me to do in these five minutes, but I had to make my lawyer, Baxter, wait. After four minutes had passed, I made my way to the desk in three strides and pressed a button.
“Hayes.”
“Where have you been all day?”
“I’m away on business, Baxter, you know that.” A lie, but a decent one.
“Good answer. Look, I’ve sent over some papers for you to look at, possible answers to this problems of ours. And I know I’ve told you this already, but you need to meet with the District Attorney.”
“Lucas, let me cut you off here. We’ve talked about it, yes, and my answer remains the same. Tell him I’ll be in Brussels until September, and after that he can catch me in Osaka.”
“You’re always somewhere…” Baxter said. “Look, okay, I’ll get it done.”
“You better.”
I ended the call and walked back to the windows.
God damn that District Attorney, always looking into my business when I didn’t fucking need it. He’d have the IRS on my ass soon enough.
I thought about calling him, getting it over with.
But no, not yet. I had to take some time off and regroup. I knew it was a crappy strategy – innocent businessmen don’t find excuses not to prove their innocence. Or, rather, not to negotiate it, at least. There was a temptation to really leave the country. Lie low somewhere in China.
“Mr. Hayes?” Monica called. She was standing at my door. Monica was five years older than me, but looked five years younger. She was a looker, and crazy smart, but she might have been the only woman in the world who wasn’t interested in me. She’d been married for the better part of her life, since college, and perfectly happy. Unlike all the other women I’d ever known, she had no interest in my money. Ironically, I had no interest in her. “Mr. Hayes? Where are you?”
“Just… thinking.”
“Oh, now you’re thinking!”
“Hey, watch it. What did you want?”
Monica widened her eyes and pursed her lips, gesturing at my phone. There was only one man she would bother to announce in person.
I cocked my head, feeling annoyed already. “What does he want?”
She made a face. “No idea honestly, but you better take it.”