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her.
                  The room was hideous, Sarah thought. It wasn’t right. It was too professional and appeared too staged. Magazines were neatly arranged on the desk in a fan arrangement; Golf Digest placed on the top. The pen blotter was positioned perfectly in the center of the desk opposite a comfortable black leather captain’s chair.
    She moved to the desk, rearranged the magazines into a random pile, and picked up some of the papers from the in-basket and scattered them on the desk creating a picture of havoc.
    That’s better.  How can anyone think that this CEO of US Mortgages Inc. has everything in its place? This office is perfect chaos now, like the financial crisis the country was a few years earlier. The company was a house of cards, and shit was raining down on everyone associated with it. How could the CEO’s desk be “P-E-R-F-E-C-T?”
    It wasn’t now thanks to Sarah…Now it represented what was truly happening….Chaos…with a capital C.
                  Good timing.
    Hans Morgenstern, that dashing darling of Wall Street, pushed open the door. Makeup had done wonders. He looked at least 20 years younger than he actually was, Sarah thought, “he is pretty damn good looking, but what a scumbag.”
                  Hans spotted his desk and his eyes grew wide as he surveyed the mess.
                  Sarah looked at the camera operator who had a close-up of him. He got the expression on tape and gave a big thumb’s up.
                  Sarah nodded and took the chair near the desk and sat down. Hans spotted the red light from the camera indicating it was on, gained his composure and sat opposite her. He reached over the desk, extended his hand cordially to Sarah and put on a handsome Tom Cruise-like smile.
                  “Sarah Tidwell, so nice to meet you in person. I’ve seen some of your interviews and they are fabulous,” Hans said, still holding her hand, much longer than needed.  He exuded charm and confidence.
                  Sarah was caught up in his web. She could see how good he was. Hans was a handsome man. Not only that, but he was also gracious. For a moment, Sarah forgot that she was here to rip him a new one and enjoyed the touch of this hand on hers, longing to get to know him better……DAMMIT.
                  She began her interview.
                  “So what's going on with the bailout? Why are you and your minions trying to screw the American public? What’s up with that?”
                  Hans looked at her squarely -- his gray eyes burning a hole in her head -- and simply said, "What’s it to you?"
    “What's it to me? What's it to me? How in the hell can you even say that? You have investors that have lost whole life savings into your bank because of your firm’s unscrupulous business practices. Are you kidding me? Are you fucking kidding me?”
    She paused and turned to the camera operator. He stopped taping and erased her last comment. He then gave the thumbs up for her to continue.  The F-bomb she dropped was now on the cutting room floor.
    Hans looked at her nonchalantly and replied. “No need to get hostile.”
    “Did you lose any money?” He asked. He was probing, trying to find out if she had any loved ones or if she had been hurt by his company and their misappropriation of funds and underhanded buying and selling derivative bonds that were worthless. His company was in such dire financial straits and had bent the rules of accounting so much he had forgotten the truth. But he had not forgotten that there were people out there that relied on him who had been taken to the cleaners by his firm. Hearing Sarah's words reminded him that he was a scumbag. In some ways, he was trying to redeem himself by asking that question.
    “It's not about me,” Sarah replied. “It's about what you have done or rather your company has done to the countless