The Key Read Online Free PDF

it.”
    “It was awesome.” Jake started talking about the game, and I was able to ascertain that the sport in question was football. It was amazing how someone who was usually so engaging in conversation could embrace such a boring topic.
    “What about the Eagles-Steelers game? Did you see that one?” Jake asked.
    Mark looked relieved to be able to answer in the affirmative. “That was a great game.”
    They started talking about that game, and I tuned out. I couldn’t possibly be expected to concentrate on a subject this dull when I was hungry. I perked back up when our food arrived, and I was pleased to find that the football discussion had run its course. They were now talking about work. This was only a marginally better topic, but it still trumped sports.
    “You’ve been with the firm since January, right?” Jake was asking. “How do you like it?”
    Mark picked up his burger. “I expected that the hours would be pretty brutal, and they have been, especially with this new deal. But I wanted to work on a buyout.”
    “Even with the Idi Amin of Winslow, Brown?” I asked.
    Mark hesitated. “This is probably embarrassing to admit, but I was deciding between offers at a few different firms. When I heard that Gallagher had left Ryan Brothers to join Winslow, Brown—well, that made up my mind for me. In fact, I asked to be assigned to his next deal. I’d heard that working with him was sort of painful, but I thought it would be a good learning experience. He’s kind of a legend in certain circles.”
    Circles of hell, I thought. Imagine wanting to work with Gallagher. In fact, following Gallagher to the firm? That was dedication. Or masochism.
    “Then it’s a dream come true?” asked Jake. He must have been thinking along the same lines as me; there was a teasing edge to his tone. But Mark looked uncomfortable, so I changed the subject.
    “I have a question, Jake. Since you’ve worked with the guy before.”
    Jake turned his attention away from Mark. “Shoot.”
    “What’s with Gallagher and the pencil thing?”
    “What pencil thing?”
    “Don’t even try to pretend that you haven’t noticed the pencil thing. When he sharpens an already sharp pencil and sucks on it? He must have done it six or seven times when we were in his office this morning.”
    He grinned. “Oh, that pencil thing.”
    “Yes, that pencil thing. He must go through a dozen pencils a day. And the sucking—it’s disgusting. I don’t even want to know what Freud would make of it.”
    “All that lead can’t be good for him,” volunteered Mark.
    “Maybe he’ll die of lead poisoning,” I said, not bothering to disguise the hopeful note in my voice.
    “I think they make them out of graphite now,” Jake said. “It’s funny, though. Do you watch Forensic City? ”
    “I love that show,” I said.
    “You do? Me, too,” Jake said.
    “I have the entire season’s episodes on my TiVo, just waiting for the time to watch them all,” I told him.
    “Well, I don’t think I’ll ruin anything by telling you they had an episode a few weeks ago in which a guy who likes to chew on toothpicks dies from chewing on a poisoned toothpick.”
    “Interesting,” I said thoughtfully. “Maybe we could slip some poison into one of Gallagher’s pencils?”
    “Should I be worried you’re not joking?” asked Jake.
    “I don’t know. Would you be willing to help out?”
    “For you? Anything.” There was a gleam in his eye.
    I laughed, but my cheeks felt strangely warm.
    I decided to chalk up my reaction to hunger. “Could somebody pass the ketchup please?”
     
    We lingered over lunch, and Jake talked about adjusting to life in New York after Chicago. “I lived here after business school,” he explained. “That’s when I first worked with Gallagher—I was an associate at his old firm. But my ex-wife was from Chicago and wanted to move back. Ryan Brothers didn’t have an office there, so I took the job at Winslow, Brown. But I