The First End Read Online Free PDF Page A

some
ice. Karen turned on her computer and started some soft music
playing.
    He looked at her, openly admiring her beautiful
form. Her skirt fell past her knees, but couldn’t hide how
beautifully shaped her legs were. Bill leaned over and kissed her
on the cheek again. She shifted to stare into his eyes.
    “Are you going to stay?” asked Karen.
    “I am afraid not. I’ve got a lot of work to do.
My current client is a bear. Honestly, I would rather be working on
the other side.”
    “Bad day?”
    “Oh yes. I’m representing the company Wastend.
I’m just concerned, that’s all. The president of the company is
both fishy and arrogant. He could be extremely dangerous too.”
    An hour later, Bill tore himself away from his
girlfriend and said goodbye. Both knew that this new case could
dominate his time and neither knew when the next time they would
see each other. Not happy, at all, he left determined to see this
through.

Chapter 5
    Bill paced in irritation. He knew somewhere in
his subconscious that his resentment of the turn of events that had
kept him from closing out the deal between the workers of Wastend and the CEO of the company, was the source of this
act of immaturity of walking back and forth for no apparent reason.
Still, he paced.
    His assistant, Cassie, came in carrying a
folder, causing him to slow down and stop behind his desk. “Sir,”
she began, “Rita is on the phone again. What shall I tell her?”
    “I have nothing to tell her,” he said, waving
his hand. He wished he did have something to offer the union
representative. “Mr. Vellore still won’t see reason. The man is a
first rate narcissist if you ask me.”
    “What should I tell her? This is her third
call.”
    “Tell her I’m not in,” he shot back.
    Cassie raised one of her pretty eyebrows.
“Sir…”
    Bill rolled his eyes. Cassie’s impeccable
honesty was both a source of refreshment and irritation at times.
“Oh very well.” He grabbed his jacket, his briefcase, and the
folder from Cassie’s hands. “I’m leaving.”
    “Sir?”
    “Tell her that I just stepped out of the office.
By the time you get to the phone, it will be true.”
    She frowned at him, and his own irritation
caused him to frown back. “When will you be back?”
    “When I step back through that door,” he shot
back. Storming out, he closed the main office door none too
gently.
    At street level, he almost hailed a taxi to take
him home, but thought better of it. He needed a different
environment to shed his irritation. A popular bar was located a
street over and, at this odd time of day, shouldn’t be too crowded.
He decided to go there. The brisk walk helped some, and once there,
he found the place practically deserted as hoped—except for a few
loafers with nothing better to do than waste someone else’s hard
earned income on booze and cheap beer.
    Bill sauntered up to the bar and sat about two
stools away from a pair that looked to be regulars, judging by the
way the bartender ignored them and their pleas for additional
refills. They were clearly drunk, so Bill decided to ignore them
too.
    “What’s yer pleasure?” the bartender asked,
placing both hands on the bar between them.
    “Straight rum,” the lawyer answered.
    Shrugging as if to say that it was Bill’s
funeral, the bartender pulled a bottle off the rack and poured a
shot into a glass. He slid it across to Bill, who caught it deftly
in one hand.
    “No napkins,” the barkeep mentioned. “No
waste.”
    Bill nodded his understanding, and silently
cursed the Wastend strike. Even here, in his solitude, the blasted
thing rose up to haunt him. Deciding to sip the rum instead of
downing it, he hunched over the bar and tried to block out every
other sight and sound.
    Never before had he failed to sort out a
problem. He had won every case in his career, including a couple of
high profile ones that had gained national recognition, but nothing
like this case would have. This case would have