“I shouldn’t have come here,” he’s saying as he looks up at the rising numbers on top of the elevator doors.
“We’re so happy to see you, Mr. Brown,” Westin says with an edge of panic to his voice. “Once again, I’d like to extend how terribly sorry I am that your banquet got ruined by regrettable factors.”
“Regrettable factors?” Mr. Brown snaps as he spins around and points at Nolan. “It was him! He had… intercourse on my car!”
Nolan starts rubbing his chin nervously. “Can I point out that the silent auction was already finished at that point so technically it wasn’t your car when I had sex on it.”
Mr. Brown looks horrified.
Westin shoots Nolan a look.
“It was most unfortunate, is what Nolan was trying to say,” Westin continues diplomatically. “He fell head over heels in love the night of your gorgeous gala and he couldn’t control himself. You remember how it was when you and Mrs. Brown were younger, don’t you?”
“I do,” he says as a blush comes to his wrinkled cheeks. “I guess we all have our dirty secrets. Mrs. Brown and myself held hands before exchanging our wedding vows. It was most erotic.”
“See?” Westin says as I try not to laugh. “That’s what I mean.”
The elevator arrives and the doors open with a ding.
Westin jumps in front of it, blocking Mr. Brown’s exit. “You came to us tonight for a reason, what was it?”
He sighs as he looks at the floor. “I thought if I came up here and you gentleman were still at work, I would reconsider.”
“Reconsider entrusting your investments with us?”
He’s all tense and looking conflicted. “The returns from my new investment managers have been underwhelming, to say the least. The fact of the matter is, you four are the best in the business.”
Westin has that look in his eye. The fierce look he always has when he’s about to close a huge sale. “What can we do to make it up to you, Mr. Brown? How can we get another chance?”
His body is all rigid as he thinks about it.
“Well,” he says as he plays with the bottom of his coat. “As long as I know that your firm is committed to professionalism.”
“We are,” Westin says, nodding as Mr. Brown starts walking back to the conference room. We all follow him. “We would like to extend a guarantee that nothing like that incident will ever happen again. We are definitely committed to professionalism.”
Mr. Brown freezes at the entrance to the conference room. I gulp as I look in. It’s an absolute mess with pizza on the table, a chair flipped over, papers scattered everywhere, and Luke’s Mountain Dew dripping off the table and onto the floor.
“We were about to clean that up,” Nolan says with a gulp.
Mr. Brown looks like he’s decided not to give us that second chance after all when Brooke steps in. “My brothers work very hard and they work well together, but they’re still brothers. This is what happens in the executive offices when there’s a disagreement at Cline Corp. Boys will be boys, right?”
He sighs as he looks at each of us with a frown.
“I’m throwing a golf tournament, cocktail party, and dinner at the club this weekend,” he finally says.
“I’d love to go!” Westin says with a huge smile on his face.
“I have two spots available in my foursome. It’s my son, myself, and I was hoping, two of you.”
Oh, thank God there are no dates for this one.
“I love golf!” Westin lies. He’s never played the sport before, but knowing how dedicated he is at this job, he’ll be practicing twenty hours a day until Saturday.
“No,” Mr. Brown snaps. “I want him.”
Nolan gulps as he gets pointed at.
“And him.”
Now it’s my turn to gulp. The old man is pointing right at me.
“Why them?” Westin asks with a worried look on his face.
“Because they are the two most unprofessional out of the four of you,” he says.
Luke snorts out a laugh.
Even Nolan can’t argue with that, but me? What the hell did I do?
“Really, sir?” I ask, feeling a little outraged. “Have you seen Luke’s head? Doesn’t it look like a football from this angle? Luke turn around.”
Luke just glares at me. I think I’m going to pay for that one later.
“I see what you mean,” Mr. Brown says as he looks at Luke’s misshapen head, “but at least he doesn’t have a slice of pepperoni on his shirt.”
“Damn it,” I whisper when I look down and see a pepperoni slice stuck to my left pec.
“If you two deplorables can convince me of your professionalism on Saturday, then I’ll return my business to Cline Corp.”
Westin and I meet eyes as Mr. Brown heads back to the elevators. We have a chance. All we have to do is keep cool, hit some golf balls, tell some witty stories, and that nine-figures is ours once again. And most importantly, we won’t have to layoff any of our staff.