One Mad Night Read Online Free PDF Page B

yet.” Ian realized he was shouting too.
    â€œYou should get out of there! It’s crazy out here—I’ve never seen so much snow! It’s hell, only white. White hell. So look, I’ve got some good news for you, Ian. Me, all the partners—we like you. We like the way you think and the way you present. Jason’s had a chance to look at the work you and Chelsea have done, the partners have done some talking, and we’re giving you the account.”
    Ian was shocked. Of all the things he thought Brad might say, this was not it. It was great news, great news. It confirmed everything he’d believed about himself. So why should an image of the woman bundled up like an Arctic ice fisherman who’d just left the office pop into his head? Why should he be concerned with how hard Chelsea had worked for this?
    â€œHello? Are you there?” Brad shouted.
    â€œYes, yes, I’m here!” Ian said, shaking it off.
    â€œI thought you’d be happy!”
    â€œI am!” Ian said, recovering quickly. “Thank you! I won’t let you down, Brad. I’m just…” He ran his hand over his head. “ Surprised . What about the pitches?”
    â€œRight, right, the timing is no good on that. We made the decision just this afternoon, because we’ve only got a week to get ready for the final presentations to Tesla. We’re going to go ahead with the pitch tomorrow,” Brad said. “We know how hard Chelsea has worked and it’s only fair that she get her chance to present.”
    It seemed patently un- fair to Ian for them to hear her pitch, knowing they would not give her the account.
    â€œIt’s good for the office to do these things,” Brad said, sounding as if he had prepared himself for an argument. “Good practice for partnerships. In your case, it will be great practice for the pitch to Tesla next week. Be ready to go; present like you don’t have the account. And congratulations, Ian! Great work!”
    â€œThanks,” Ian said. “Thanks for the opportunity.”
    â€œWe’re expecting big things from you, you know— big things! This is your chance to wow us. Now get out of the office! It’s too nasty to be holed up there!”
    â€œI will,” Ian said. “I’m leaving now.” He wished Brad an easy trip home, then clicked off.
    He didn’t move, just stood rooted to the floor. He was thrilled. Of course he was thrilled. This was exactly what he’d come to Grabber-Paulson to do. This is what he’d worried about all afternoon, that he wouldn’t get the account. So why wasn’t he doing his happy dance?
    Ian tossed his phone onto his desk, put his hands on his hips, and looked to his left, to where the Director of Media—the fancy title this account carried—would be housed. A corner office with actual sunlight filtering into it. Ian didn’t like the way the firm had handled this, but hey, he would have won the account anyway. And he felt great about his work.
    Still—what had just happened to Chelsea sucked. She didn’t get a chance. That she didn’t even know left a very bad taste in his mouth. He thought about her walking around that conference room, honing her pitch. He knew how hard she’d worked—everyone on the floor knew how hard she’d worked.
    He picked up his bag.
    Chelsea would bounce back. This business was cutthroat, and if you couldn’t bounce back, you had no business being here. Chelsea would accept it and move on to the next account.
    Ian checked his watch, wondering if he could rouse Ben and Devin for a celebratory beer. He donned his coat and wound his scarf around his neck. He picked up his bag and shoved his hands in his coat pockets, looking for his gloves and his knit hat as he strolled around the cubicles toward the entrance. The lights flickered; he glanced up, wondering what was going on. He heard the slam of the