Double Dealing

I push myself up from the asphalt and get to my feet.
“Well, that wasn’t humiliating,” Scott says.
I shake my head. “At least we still got it.”
Scott laughs, and we high-five like teenagers.
“Let’s get out of here,” I say. “I have to get home, anyway. I want to hit the gym in the
morning, and my body is not going to like the whiskey as it is.”
Scott nods. “I’ll see you in the gym bright and early then, bro.”
* * *
On Monday morning, I leave my apartment dressed in my suit and tie, ready to take on
the week, when my phone rings.
“Meyers,” I say, holding the phone against my ear.
“Kevin,” a deep voice says. I recognize Mr. Franklin Hull right away. He is one of my
investors, one of the most important members on the board, and I deal with him directly most of
the time.
“Mr. Hull,” I say. “I trust you’re well?”
If there is anyone whose ass I have to kiss, it’s Hull’s.
“I’m not as well as I’d like to be, Kevin,” he says, and his voice is serious.
Oh shit, what happened now? “What can I do to fix it?” I ask.
“You can tell me why the hell I’m supposed to invest in a person who ends up in the
tabloids for a fist fight in a club. This is work, not a playground. We’re all adults trying to
achieve something here.”
“Of course, Mr. Hull,” I say, thinking feverishly. “It’s all one big misunderstanding.”
“Well, then you can explain yourself in our meeting at nine.”
Shit. They are calling me in for a meeting. What a way to start the week. When he hangs
up without saying goodbye, I get in my car and open Twitter. It doesn’t take me long to find the
link to the post where a crude photo of me and Scott is posted alongside a photo with two
security guys and the guy with the bloody nose.
Fuck.
I’m in the tabloids for this shit? It had to be one of those assholes who stood around us
with the cellphones. What am I going to do, now?