He got out of the elevator in the lobby. His day was done. Simon Kent didn’t bother speaking to the man behind the desk. He just grabbed the pen and signed out.
As he headed for the front doors, he saw a finely dressed man clutching a brown paper bag to his chest. Kent stepped back into a darkened corner and watched.
Last year’s DGA winner plopped the bag on the desk and reached with disdain for the pen.
“I hope your meeting went well, sir.” Rusty smiled.
“I am not happy in the least. I wanted a meeting with Ian Justyn, but my people set me up with Simon Kent instead. I don’t know whether to fire my people or kill yours.”
“I’m sure Mr. Ian would make time for you.” Rusty reached for the phone. “Let me give him a call, I’m sure you can go right up.”
“Never mind. While I was in the can, someone stole my brief case.”
“Your brief case?” Rusty stopped in mid button push.
“They dumped the contents on the vanity and took my attaché.”
“I am so sorry, sir. I’ll alert security and if nothing else have it replaced.”
“Forget it.” The man slapped the pen down and picked up his paper bag. “It was nothing, just something the wife picked up in Greece last month. I go through them like peanuts. I just assumed you would have a better class of people here.” He snatched up his bag and stomped away.
“Grecian leather, not Italian.” Simon chuckled to himself. “My bad.”
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