Business As Usual

“Come on in. Shut the door behind you, man. Thanks for coming by.”

A bright and sunny day, the first one in a while, the glass and steel skyscrapers of downtown Chicago gleaming outside the windows of the corner office.

“You see him yet?”

Short pause.

“Not today. If that’s what you’re asking.”

Brow furrows.

“You talk to him yet?”

Longer pause.

“What are you asking me, Ryan? I’m pretty busy just now. Last night I got home from the office around 1:30 in the morning. I’d like to make it home by midnight tonight.”

Dead stare. People walking down on the sidewalk below look like ants.

“Fuck man, you recruited me here. I’m asking you what’s gonna happen next? I got kids to feed. I have a massive mortgage payment to make every month. I really don’t want to look like an asshole. Come on, Pete. Give me something. It goes no further than this office.”

“Right. I’m just a little worried about who is going to be sitting here in this…beautiful corner office…about fifteen minutes after I leave. I've got kids too.”

“Come on, Pete. We go back to Northwestern together. It’s been almost twenty years. Don’t treat me like some fucking chump. You banged my ex-wife for fuck sake. I need to know.”

Very long pause. Direct eye contact.

“What exactly do you need to know, Ryan?”

“Fuck man, I need to know whatever I need to know. You tell me. That’s why I’m asking. Let’s start with Milton. What’s the deal? I keep hearing…all sorts of shit.”

Another long pause.

“I can’t talk about Milton. I honestly don’t really know. Or, I only know what you know. He’s been in the hospital since last week. The family is keeping it real tight. They’re not allowing visitors. I honestly don’t know the specifics or just how bad it is.”

Eyebrows raised, incredulous.

“Okay, yeah Ryan, you’re right. It looks pretty bad. You heard the way he was coughing over the last few months just like we all did. If he goes, it’s hard to say what happens next. It’s gonna be up to the board. They all have different ideas, those half-senile, anachronist old wash-outs. There’s no telling how it might go.”

Zero pause.

“But you’ll tell me, right? I’ll be in the fucking loop here, yeah? Come on, Pete. You know how this business is. You gotta jump before you get pushed. I don’t want to be out there hunting from the street.”

Moderate pause.

“You know, Ryan, I don’t think you're really considering the big picture here. I don’t believe that you’re really thinking this whole thing through.”

Another brief pause.

“Yeah? Enlighten me then you Sigma Chi smart fuck. What does that mean exactly? Fill me in, man. I only went to public school when I was a kid.”

“Well, for starters, there is a potential future where I end up as CEO and you end up as my Chief Ops. That wouldn’t suck, would it?”

Another brief pause.

“Yeah, well, I don’t get sucked off too much these days anyway. That sounds real nice and all but it’s honestly not very comforting, Pete. I have to bring home dinner for my family in the real world and that’s a pretty big if that you’re talking about. I can retire tomorrow if I win the fucking Powerball. If that’s what’s ‘for starters’ then tell me what’s next. I have a mortgage to pay and I’m starting to look out this window behind me down to that street below and I think you might want to line up a shovel, a body bag and a settlement offer for my loved ones, because I’m starting to feel real squirrely.”

“I think you’re being a little dramatic here, Ryan.”

Very long pause. Eyes locked.

“And I’m thinking about calling Mason Meyerson over at McCrain-Sanborn.”

“You can call Mason if you want. Like I said, I don’t believe you’re really thinking this through. There could be a number of different positive outcomes here for both of us.”

“Fine, Pete. Just tell me what you can tell me then. I gotta go to sleep at some point tonight. Come on, man. Let’s cut the bullshit and put the cards on the table. It’s just me and you here.”

Long pause. Contemplation.

“Well, Ryan, I think you just blew the interview for the Chief Ops position. Frankly, I already had my doubts but you’re making this pretty easy.”

Incredulous stare. Long pause. Phone beeps with incoming text message. Message is read. A few moments later two large men from the building’s security team in identical cheap navy blue sport coats enter the office without knocking, both carrying empty cardboard boxes.

“Give us a moment, guys. All right? Just wait right out there.”

Security guards place cardboard boxes on the floor and exit the room, closing the door behind them. Text message is displayed, the last of several that began coming in the night before. Eyes go wide. Curses are muttered.

“Honestly Ryan, you are a pretty driven and hard-working guy so I was willing to give you half a chance here but I already had some very serious doubts. Mainly I came down here to make sure that you didn’t make a big scene in front of everyone. We both know how you can get. I’m gonna need your building security card and your laptop and phone. I assume about a half hour will be enough time to pack your personal items up? The guys outside there will escort you out. Don’t get crazy, okay? That big black dude from Security? Three tours in Iraq. Pretty sure he still has PTSD. My guess is he probably wouldn’t hesitate to grind your face into the floor if you give him the slightest justification to do so. Just keep it cool, okay? Don't go getting a whole lot stupider right now. I know you only went to public school when you were a kid.”

“You fucking cocksucker…”

“Easy, Ryan. You’re talking to the new CEO of IMG WorldGroup. Milton died yesterday afternoon around three o'clock at Loyola Medical and I can make things very difficult for you out there. I’ve already spoken with Mason Meyerson and a few other friends and acquaintances in the industry. I basically know everyone who you know and I really think you should consider what you say next very carefully.”

Short pause.

“Go fuck yourself, Pete. I always hated you. I knew you were a complete douchebag the day I first met you."

Short pause. Shrug.

“Well, if that’s the way you want to do this...”

Quick glance at luxury wristwatch, a classic Jacob & Co. in perfect condition.

“So, thirty minutes then?

Immediately, snarling...

“Go fuck yourself, Pete, you smarmy cunt.”

Rising from the chair, opening the door.

“Oh by the way, Ryan. What was the name of that cute little new wife of yours? Rebecca, right? I’ve seen her down at the gym on State Street. She is quite fit. I see her there all the time actually. I think she sees me too. You are a lucky man to have such a pretty little thing waiting for you at home. Hope she's able to take bad news well. You know how some women are. Young second wives especially. Always looking for greener pastures..."

Fake smile. Gleaming white veneers.

“Fuck you.”

“Right. You can just leave the security badge and laptop and your cell phone right there on the desk and then just pack up the rest of your shit and take the rest of the day off. The day…the week…the month…”

“You are such an asshole.”

Glancing at framed family photos that have been there for years, as if just seeing them for the very first time, pointing at an image of a teenage boy with longish hair, dark eyes and no suntan at all.

“That’s Nelson, right? Is he the one who overdosed?”

Brief pause.

“Well, hey, at least you don’t have to bring home any dinner for him. See you around town, Ryan. Give Rebecca my love and good luck with those massive mortgage payments of yours. HR will be in touch. I wouldn't bother calling Mason Meyerson though. I have a feeling that you have a career change coming in your near future. Probably an address change too.”

No response. Facial expression of one who has just been slapped, hard, unexpectedly.

Boxes are filled with personal items. 

Ryan is escorted off premises.

Business goes on as usual.

THE END