Page 75 of Man Vs. Woman
I twist back to the table, rummaging through the pictures. I pick one up of Hiram and me, the one where I’m shaking his hand. A tinge of guilt stings my chest, and I grimace. Yeah, it doesn’t look good, I’ll give her that. But if she let me explain, everything would make sense.
All I needed was two minutes—two minutes would have changed everything.
I throw the photo back on the table and it flaps in the air, landing on the glossy side—a scribbled note then reveals itself.
Colt McCoy is using you. Day of meeting, Colt will bury your proposal.
Jesus fucking Christ.
The guilt I felt earlier mutates into a form of anger so intense it burns my skin and coils my insides. I toss my table over, shattering the porcelain dishes and scattering the shards of glass across the dining room floor
The entire restaurant watches me. No one moves. Someone lifts up a cell phone to start recording.
Fuck.
This shit is going to go viral.
I gather my shit, tucking the papers into my briefcase haphazardly, and storm out of the restaurant.
Fuck the meeting.
Hiram Hooskins will fucking pay for this.
I will have his head on a stake and parade it through the fucking floors of Clarendon Tower if I have to.
Hiram Hooskins is fucking done.
