Page 17 of Mr. Perfect

“Mr. Stonewall?” Stephanie’s voice through the speaker on my desk phone pulls me away from the view out the window.

“Yes,” I call back.

“I’m sorry, sir, I know you’re done for the day, but there’s a Mr. Manco on line four.”

“Andrew Manco? Wasn’t he here today for something?”

“Um,” Stephanie says. “I’m not sure, really. But yes, it’s the Mr. Manco. He sounds upset. Which reminds me, I got word from Brutus’ people—he’s fine.”

“Jesus,” I mutter. As if my mind wasn’t wandering enough to my earlier escapades with Miss Hatcher. “I’ll take it, thanks.”

“No problem, Mr. Stonewall. See you tomorrow.”

I sit down at my desk and press line four and speaker. “This is McAllister Stonewall. How can I help you, Mr. Manco?”

“Well, I’m surprised to find you still on the job, to be honest. It’s after six now.”

“My work is never done, I guess.” I smile out of habit but then drop the pretense when I realize I don’t have to. It’s just the phone. “What can I do for you?”

“Well,” Manco starts, seemingly unsure of whatever it is he’s calling about. “I don’t mean to come off like a prick. Wait,” he corrects. “No, yeah, I do mean it, actually. I do. I’m going to be the prick, Mr. Stonewall. I cannot believe you’re letting Ellie Hatcher go. I’m sick, man. Sick over this. I know business is business and you’re only there to chop the company up and parcel it out—”

“Hey, whoa, whoa, whoa. What are you talking about?”

“Look, I know people, Stonewall. Lots of people. And I already knew your father was selling. But Ellie is like a goddamned Stonewall treasure. You do realize she’s the reason why you get so many exclusive interviews, right?”

“Pearl-button sweater Ellie,” I say, before I can stop myself. What the fuck is wrong with me? “Yes, actually, I can totally see that. She has a way of… of…”

“A way of making you want to show up!” Manco finishes for me. “A way of putting your life in perspective. A way of talking you down off the ledge of self-destruction and making things seem…” He trails off, like he said too much. “Anyway, she told me she’s leaving.”

“She’s not leaving, Mr. Manco. That was a misunderstanding. She got a promotion today.”

“When?”

“This morning.”

“Well”—Manco laughs—“I talked to her before I left your campus and she told me good luck and goodbye.”

“What?”

“So I guess she didn’t get the message. I’m supposed to come back in a month, and I tell you what, if she’s working for a competitor, I’ll be taking my interview to them.”

He hangs up on me.

I just stare at the phone for a few seconds as the dial tone buzzes out from the speaker. I reach over and end the connection. What the hell was that all about?

I wake my computer screen and do a search for Andrew Manco. I know he’s an actor, but that was a while back. Why the hell was he here today?

Ah. A Forbes article dated today comes right up. Former Child Actor Turns Virtual Reality Vacations into Millions of Dollars. Just a few short years ago Andrew Manco was on a downward spiral of self-destruction. Now, he’s the tech world’s newest darling.

An email alert pops up on the screen as I’m reading.

From: Eloise Hatcher.

Subject: Two Weeks’ Notice.

Dear Mr. Stonewall,

I would like to thank you and your company for seven great years of employment. It has been a joy to learn from, and work for, one of the world leaders in the communications industry. However, it is now time for me to strike out on my own. Please consider today’s date the start of my formal resignation and two weeks’ notice.