Tilting at Windmills Read Online Free PDF Page A

his sleeves, exposing arms thickly covered with curly black hair. It took all my concentration not to punch the ape.
    Instead, I said, “Hey,” back.
    “Have a seat. I’ve a spare second before the announcement.”
    “The announcement?” I asked. “What . . . ?”
    He flashed bleached teeth. “You’ll have to wait like the rest of them.” He was characteristically unctuous and I wondered what was going on. He didn’t give me the chance to ask. “So, Brian . . . hey, how’re you feeling ? Guess you’re back full time—and none too soon, because there’s a shitload of work to do. I hope you’re up to the challenge, ’cause we’ve got big plans at the Beckford Warfield Group. Big mondo plans. And you’re a part of it—hell, you’re our creative genius.”
    The added name to the corporate banner didn’t escape me. “Beckford Warfield?”
    He grinned like the Cheshire cat’s dentist. “All in good time.”
    He was distracting me from my own agenda. “Uh, Justin, there’s this little matter—”
    He held up a hand like a crossing guard, and I stopped. His secretary, Laura, had popped in.
    “She’s in?” Justin asked.
    “She’s in,” replied Laura with simple efficiency.
    “Who’s ‘she’?” I asked as a follow-up.
    “You’ve got no patience this morning, do you, Bri?”
    “I’ve spent the past six weeks being patient.”
    “As well as being a patient.” He laughed at his lame joke, then added insult to injury by saying, “Get it?”
    Hilarious.
    “Well, follow me and you’ll get all your questions answered,” he said, and he was up and out of his chair, rolling down his sleeves and throwing on his suit jacket, all in one smooth motion. Then he was gone, rocketing down to the conference room, a man on a mission. I was slow to follow and wondered if my sabbatical from the corporate pace had lessened my tolerance for it.
    When I got there, I saw I was one of many. In fact, he’d assembled the entire sixteen-member staff inside the conference room, a nice-size room with classic furniture and a great view of Midtown Manhattan. Everyone was anxiously standing about, eyes focused on Justin. Mine included. I hovered near the back, a virtual stranger in these familiar surroundings. Just then the “she” Justin referred to shot through the door frame. Not all that surprisingly, she was Maddie.
    And she looked great. Healthy glow, professional attire, she was vibrant, and despite my feelings, I felt my heart do a quick dance. Love is a tricky emotion to quell, even in the face of betrayal. She didn’t help matters any, though, by going directly to Justin’s side. As they stood next to each other, it was clear they were the envy of the room, beautiful people in positions of power. Maddie looked like she’d never been a part of me.
    Madison Laurette Chasen. A Georgia-bred beauty who’d worked hard to successfully rid herself of her Southern accent, a woman who’d worked equally hard at mastering her career, if the pale beige Donna Karan suit was any indication. Her hair, a lustrous and thick golden blond, absolutely radiated, even in the artificial glow of fluorescent lights. Here was a woman who would not be denied her ambition, who surged forward with clear goals and the smarts to reach them. Why, then, had she gone and done the predictable? Why had she fucked the boss?
    The answer, it appeared, was unfolding before me.
    “A couple of announcements, folks, before we begin this exciting new work week,” said Justin with the ease of a born leader. “As you all know, Franklin Beckford, our beloved chairman, has not been in the best of health lately and has cut back his hours dramatically. He has decided now to permanently step down as chairman. His only regret is that he cannot be here to tell you all—he and his wife, Suki, have just left on an extended trip. Clearly, Franklin wants to enjoy himself, as he’s wanted to for some time. The announcement last week that we landed Voltaire