But you only get to be a part of it if you start now. So if you want to be a part of our organization,” Leonard said,
“stay seated. If you decide this is not right for you, I’m sorry to have wasted your time.”
Nobody moved. Chubby had forgotten all about his cuff links. Nikesh was absently rubbing his back pocket, where his wallet was surely kept. Greg looked at the table, briefly, considering the offer, then looked right back up at Leonard. His eyes said that he was in.
Morgan did not move. The money seemed too good to be true, but he knew Ken Tsang had fallen on hard times and had gotten out of it. And if things didn’t work, he could always quit. But the opportunity was too good to pass up. This was Morgan’s way back in the game.
Suddenly a chair squeaked. Everyone turned to the back of the room to see a short, balding man stand up.
He waved his hands, as though trying to explain a crime he hadn’t committed.
“I…I’m sorry,” he said. “I can’t do this.”
Leonard tilted his head, a look on his face like a parent who’s been disappointed by a child they’ve put so much effort into. “Jeremy, are you sure?” Leonard said.
“I-I’m sure. I can’t be a part of this.” He moved to the back door, still wringing his hands.
“You’ve disappointed us,” Leonard said, motioning to the rest of the room, still riveted to their seats. “One last time, Jeremy. Stay. You heard what I said to everyone about our rules.”
“I know, I…I heard you, but…I’m sorry, but I have to go. Good luck, guys,” Jeremy said, and he reached for the door.
“Good luck, and farewell, Jeremy,” Leonard said.
Then, lightning quick, Leonard reached into his waistband and pulled out a gun. And before Morgan even knew what was happening, a crack echoed throughout the room, and Jeremy’s head erupted in a spray of fine pink mist.
The dead man’s body slid to the floor, leaving a grotesque red trail from the gaping wound in his skull.
Morgan recoiled, nearly tipping back in his seat, and when he righted himself he shivered when he realized that the conference room was dead quiet. The eyes that had bugged out of their sockets were now growing accustomed to the violence that had just taken place. The heads slowly began to swivel from the body back to Leonard.
He watched them do this, a look of apathy, a look of simple that’s what happens on his face. Morgan recognized that face. He knew the emotions. He couldn’t help but smile when he realized who it reminded him of. His old boss.
“There will be no dissent,” Leonard said. “There will be no second-guessing, and there will be no turning back.
Every one of you came here for one reason, and that’s to regain some of the respect you had for yourselves. Jeremy did not have this self-respect, and now he’s dead. But before you start thinking to yourselves that I’m some kind of monster, let me tell you that if Jeremy had stayed, like every one of you is going to stay, you will make every penny you did at your old jobs. There will be no layoffs, no cutbacks, no downsizing. If anything, your earnings will grow at a faster rate than they ever could while you sat in some wretched cubicle or soulless office. We will be introducing a new product in the next few days that promises to help you erase all those debts. Keep making those mortgage payments. Keep driving that Lexus, keep that sweet Russian girlfriend who wants to spend five grand a month at Chanel. You’ll have all of that-and enough just in case you want to throw a dime on the football games on Sunday. Now, you can either take Jeremy’s way out, the coward’s way out, or you can get back to work and stay the man you were supposed to be. So, men, are you in, or are you worthless?”
Morgan stood up. He felt a surge of energy through his veins, his skin felt like it was on fire. “I’m in,” he said.
Within seconds, every other man in the room stood up and joined him. Leonard’s eyes met each recruit as they pledged to be a part of this. Morgan looked at each one of them, silently bet himself that he would outearn each and every one of them. And he knew from the way their eyes met his that they were thinking the exact same thing.
Morgan Isaacs smiled.
Let the games begin.
“No second chances,” Leonard said. “I’ll see the rest of you on Monday.”
21
Amanda had just settled down on Henry’s couch with a glass of Pinot Noir, and the first sip tasted better than anything she’d eaten in weeks. She’d skipped dinner, but hell, wine had nutrients, didn’t it?
It had been one of those days that never wanted to end.
Her feet felt like they’d been trapped inside thimbles and she needed something to take the edge off. She’d been with a client at the office until nearly eight o’clock, and
Amanda had come to the pretty secure conclusion that humans were not meant to wear high heels for twelve straight hours. So by the time she got to his place, weary, weak, her dogs barking like nobody’s business, she wrenched that cork from the bottle faster than Pamela
Anderson dropped her drawers around a rock star.
And while all those excuses were reason enough to have a drink-whether or not she continued with the bottle depended on several factors-another reason was Henry.
Things were going well. They’d endured more rocky periods in their relationship than the next twenty couples combined, and she fully believed they’d come out stronger than ever. She never doubted his love for her. Even when that brain of his got in the way, which it often did, she knew it was only because he could be torn between the right thing to do and the smart thing to do. It still surprised her how rarely those two choices were one and the same.
Still, she’d learned a long time ago that trying to change him was not only impossible, but defeated the purpose and would undermine their entire relationship.
Henry was relentless. That was the bottom line, and God did she love him for it. As much as her heart pounded during the times where he scared her half to death with his latest bit of reckless behavior, it was that full throttle stopatnothingishness that made him a great reporter and a great partner. Sure he did stupid stuff. He was a guy; that was embedded in the DNA.
For every time he brought home flowers, he would leave his underwear hanging from the bedpost. For every time he said “I love you,” he would chew with his mouth open. But that’s what made them so great. He wasn’t fake and didn’t pretend to be perfect. Amanda had met plenty of guys who did everything right: held the door open for her, pulled her chair out at dinner, chewed with their mouth closed. But these men were nothing but painters, carpenters, covering up holes in the frame with pretty wallpaper or a fresh coat of paint. Eventually the hole would reveal the truth, and the facade would crumble. With Henry there was none of that. He wore his holes proudly.
Still, she wondered when they might take the next step.
Amanda was never one of those girls who dreamed about her wedding when she was six. She didn’t name her unborn children, or buy Modern Bride magazine. If love came, she would deal with it then. For years, love to Amanda was like taxes. You only thought about it when you had to.
Yet Henry had changed that. Every so often she would think about what he would look like in a tuxedo, and thought about who would be her maid of honor. She caught herself smiling at things she once found cheesy, and more than once had felt that terror-and joy-filled moment of anticipation when she thought he might pop the question.
Yet she didn’t want to rush him. Or rush herself. She wasn’t sure if she was ready to commit, and wanted to make that decision when the time came.
Still, it felt nice to think about it. If only once in a while.
Amanda heard someone jiggling the doorknob. She stood up, glass in hand, and watched as Henry entered the apartment. His sport jacket was rumpled, slacks dirty around the cuffs. There seemed to be some sort of dirt or
