“You know I donotlike to leave things to chance,” Aaron warns.
“Look, I’ll have a meeting with Mandy in the morning. I’ll explain everything. She’ll be fine. She’s my assistant. She’s not going to quit.”
“The odds are not looking good,” Crawford tells Aaron.
“The odds are fine,” I insist.
I can tell in Aaron’s view, the odds are clearly unacceptable.
“Call her now,” he says. “She better be at the dinner tomorrow, or I won’t be.”
If Van de Berg doesn’t provide the insurance, it will be a struggle to find a large-enough firm to cover it and meet all the government regulations without the rates being astronomical.
“I have it under control. I’ll meet with her and—all right, fine. Calling her now.” I cut of Aaron’s protests.
The phone rings… and rings. I am very aware of Crawford watching. He’s going to report all of this back to Greg and Hunter.
When the call goes to voicemail, Aaron glowers.
I send Mandy a text message.
“Maybe she’s asleep,” Fitz offers.
“Or maybe she’s about to quit,” Crawford adds.
“I have it under control.” I call her again. And again. And again.
Crawford is about as giddy as a stone-cold killer can be.
I swear. Loudly. The voicemail message kicks in. “Mandy, answer your goddamn phone!”
“Not so loud—this is a nice establishment,” Fitz complains.
“Let him swear.” Crawford snickers. “He’s about to lose that port contract, and it’s going to be an even bigger flaming dumpster fire than Svensson Investment.”
I call her again. I can already feel the port contract slipping thorough my fingers all because Mandy is yanking my chain.
It’s my own fault…
I squash the guilt.
The call connects. I suck in a breath to chew out her voicemail again.
Then Mandy yells, “Gosh, what is your problem, Salinger? I told you I was out.”
“She’s coming in hot.” Crawford smirks.
“You don’t get to dictate the schedule, Mandy. You come when I call.”
“I’m so sick of you, Salinger.” Mandy sounds screechy. “I’m sick of all of you entitled bullies who just take and take and take.”
“Stop being such a child. Where the hell are you?” I can’t help the fury in my voice.
“About half-a-bottle-of-tequila deep.”
“Get in the office.”
“I am not coming into the office.” The words are enunciated and final. “I will see your bright and smiling face in the morning.”
