She's Out of Control Read Online Free PDF Page A

like Mikhail Baryshnikov in younger days, and probably has the same type of reputation. Not a great feature in your boss. So I ask my friends for a lot of prayer and try to stay on guard.
    I arrive at the restaurant parched and a glowing a bit, which is a nice way of saying I’m hot and sweaty. Even in the cool November weather, my trek up University Avenue has taken its toll, and I’d rip off my wool coat in a second, were it not for my pride in its appearance. The maître d’ is dressed in a black suit, with an attitude, unaware that his spot is no longer hip among those who care about such things.
    â€œI’m here for Hans Kerchner.”
    â€œAh yes, but of course. He’s at his regular table. Right this way.” Grabbing a leather-bound menu, the maître d’ leads me to the back of the restaurant near the fireplace. Just what I need: warmth. I take off my coat reluctantly, and the maître d’ runs off with it. I watch it go, like a friend leaving for the mission field.
    When I appear, Hans stands up. The fireplace is glowing behind the table, and it highlights the wine bottle, which is already half empty. “Ashley, you look lovely.”
    â€œWon’t Sophia be joining us tonight?” I like to remind him about Sophia whenever I get the chance.
    â€œShe has no interest in discussing technology,” he replies in his harsh German accent. “She’s home watching her favorite dating show.”
    â€œYes, Joe Millionaire is on tonight.” I smile, letting Hans know I’d like to be home watching bad reality television too. Hans starts to fill my glass with wine, and I place my hand over the edge. “I don’t drink, remember?”
    â€œOf course, you drink. Everyone drinks. Red wine is . . .” he pats his chest, “good for the heart, you know.”
    â€œNo, thank you. It gives me indigestion.” Now there’s an attractive excuse, but it works. He puts the bottle back on the table. The waiter comes by and I order a Diet Coke. “Listen Hans, I know you’re very excited about this new patent, so let’s get down to it. I can do some research tonight at home, and sketch out a patent request tomorrow. We can get moving on it by the end of the week if you think it’s that big. There’s no sense in waiting when you’re onto something.”
    Hans shakes his head. “You Americans are always so business-oriented. We Europeans, we like to enjoy our lives first. We don’t even begin to talk about business without a good meal in our stomach.”
    Which is probably how you fell into life with the nanny . “I don’t mean to be rude, Hans, but I like to arrange my schedule. I like to know what’s going to happen, and what needs to happen. It’s just my nature to keep a very orderly calendar.”
    â€œSee? That is what I mean. You Americans try to control everything when you really have no say in the matter. Fate always takes precedence.”
    â€œI don’t believe in fate.” I smooth the linen tablecloth in front of me. Fate says you had no choice about sleeping with the babysitter. “When you believe in fate, you can rationalize anything, so I don’t believe in fate.”
    Hans just shakes his head. “You’re so practical .” That’s really the last thing I am. Maybe compared to Hans, but really, no. He continues, “I’d like this whole product ready before Comdex next year. Meaning I want the product done, and the patent secured. This one has potential to get our company a P/E ratio and to up our stock rating.”
    â€œNot a problem on my end.” I smile. Comdex isn’t until September. That’s nearly a year, I think with glee. My glee, as usual, is shortlived.
    Hans pours himself another glass of wine. “I’m flying out to Taiwan next week to work on the prototype. I’d need you to accompany me. We leave on the Tuesday