down, “Five…four…three…and then he mouthed and held up fingers signaling two…one…”

On the one, “Thank you for being here.  Obviously there is only one thing I can say about the events that have brought you all here today….” Ian looked down and shuffled his feet, hands in pockets, double-checking his target in the corner of his eye.  He lifted his head. Stared straight into the cameras and lights with a smile on his face said firmly, “I don’t know what the fuck you are talking about” and darted for a small opening one guard standing ready had made with the iron gate.   

Before the reporters knew what hit them, Ian was through to safety and the reporters were shoving microphones and pole lights through the bars like those hungry people in cages in “Planet of the Apes”.  Ian sauntered on his way, stopping long enough to bow graciously to the guards who were all high fiving each other.

Before he got back into his Chevy, he turned to the young guard who held the door for him.  “Tell the guys thanks and that lunch is on me.”

“Oh thank you, sir,” the young man said as he slammed the door.  “You have a great day Mr. Ian, sir!”  And Ian drove off.

He figured it wouldn’t be long before he knew exactly what was going on.  All he knew is that it was obvious part of it had to do with Saturday night, but that should have been old news by now.  He got nothing when he walked in the lobby, except a little more than usual “good morning” from the clerk.   

The elevator ride to his floor was quiet and lonely.  He stood in the cab alone, and nervously pondered what might be before him.  He hated being unprepared, but was ashamed to admit he did some of his best work when he was blindly swinging at the ball.  As the elevator doors slid open, he took a deep breath and strode as confidently as possible into whatever melee might lie ahead.

Trish was at her post, the phones ringing wildly.  There was a second girl there helping out.  Trish shot him a look that was both deadly and smug when he said good morning.  She said nothing as she handed him a stack of mail.  He sorted through it and headed for the main office.  Without turning to look at her he added, “Oh, Trish, I talked to a Mr. Marcus Hunter from my old job in Virginia and it seems I never received any of the messages he left.”

“I’ll check into that, Ian,” she said meaning, “I’m busy”.

“I expect you to get to the bottom of it and report to me by the end of the morning meeting.”

Trish’s eyes got beady and snake like.  “Yes, Ian.”

“I also expect it will not happen again, Trish.”

“I’m sure it was just an oversight at the front desk.”  She tried to cover.

“I expect it will not happen again, Trish.”

“I will do my best, Ian.”  She said flatly.

Ian stopped and turned to her, looking directly in her eyes, “I can always get anyone to answer phones, Trish.”

Trish actually brightened thinking of the possibility of actually getting fired.  Ian started walking back to the office and tossed over his shoulder, “I am searching for just the right person to water the plants.”