“This is
the wrong floor,” Corporate Whore said when the elevator door opened.
Corporate
Man stepped out and said, “No. I think
this is right.”
“How would
you know? You don’t even know where I’m
taking you.” She reached for his arm and
tried to pull him back to the elevator.
He took another step back and said,
“I’m pretty sure I want nothing to do with that conference of yours.”
“How did you…” she trailed off into
silence. Then her jaw flexed and a blast
of air rushed from her nose like a bull.
She stepped into the corridor.
The elevator door eventually slid shut behind her. “I take it we’re not here to discuss the
bonus structure.”
“That would be accurate.”
“And I assume that I am being
forced to move to Plan B. To activate my
contingencies.”
“I’d find it completely acceptable
if you didn’t.”
“I also assume that you are not who
you say you are.”
“Correct.”
“And who are you?”
“I’m Corporate Man,” he said, and
slid on a pair of thick, black frame glasses.
“Oh,” she said, almost taken aback.
“What?”
“No. It’s nothing.”
“What is it?”
“Well, it’s just… Corporate Man, Corporate
Whore. A coincidence is all. I wasn’t copying you or–”
She slashed out with her diamond
card. Corporate Man flinched back. A white line gouged across the lens of his glasses
and he stumbled against an inconvenient potted plant.
Corporate Whore sprinted down the
hall. She reached into her purse and
pulled out a gray, bulky device with a blackish stick, the width of a pencil,
jutting from one end. She pressed
numeric keys along the length of the portable phone as she sped around the corner.
Corporate Man chased after
her. He could hear her screaming
something into the phone but couldn’t make out all the words. He was fairly certain that one of the words
was contingency. When he rounded the
corner Corporate Whore was halfway down a long corridor. He ran faster. His red tie flapped over his shoulder and
billowed like a triumphant banner.
