Free The Fives Run North-South by Dan Goodin Page A

driving are you?”
    “No.”
    “Good.”
    “How’s your son?” he asked, his voice steadying surprisingly quickly.
    “He’ll be fine. It’ll take a few months, but he’ll have full use of the hand again. Thanks for asking.” I sat down, stretching out my legs in an effort to relax. “Look,” I said. “We never got to finish our conversation. And we need to.”
    “I know,” he said. “But this isn’t a good time.”
    “Okay. When?”
    “Soon. You’re putting me in a tough position. Beating me up for eating dinner with Kyle. We’re friends, always have been. I want it to stay that way, I truly do.”
    “Seems that’s up to you right now,” I said. “And as a friend, it’s time for you to remember where you keep your balls and tell me: Is Kyle’s effort to explore a change of leadership gaining traction? And if so, are you part of it?”
    “It’s not that simple.”
    “Yes, Chester. I think it really is that fucking simple.”
    “I have to go.” The slight waver was seeping back into his voice. Chester didn’t like foul language.
    “No, you don’t,” I said. “You want to go, but you certainly don’t have to go. And if you think you can duck out on me, you’re way off base. You owe me a hell of a lot more than you’re showing. At the very least you owe me a simple explanation.”
    Silence.
    “Chester!”
    “I’m here.”
    “I’m waiting.”
    Silence.
    “Still waiting,” I said. In my head, I saw the perspiration soaking through Chester’s shirt, drops forming on his forehead, sliding into those bushy brows.
    “Kyle has West Jefferson.”
    Shit.
    West Jefferson. A venture capital firm that we’d danced with last year in an exploratory exercise to expand into Europe.
    “And?” I prodded.
    “Looks good. But comes with certain conditions,” Chester said.
    Conditions.
    Or maybe just one: change of CEO.
    This was farther along than I’d expected, and likely involved more than Kyle. I was in danger of losing my company.

    I was the last to leave the office building that night. As always, the day ended with my head still crammed with details, conversations, and the remnants of the last ten hours spinning like a blender inside my skull. I barely took note of my surroundings as I made mental charts and started assembling my to - do list for the next morning. I often resent the end of the day, I’m so eager to continue with the business at hand. Eventually I’m able to shut down and take a breath to make whatever I can out of my evening at home. Whether it’s from a glass of wine, an interesting story on TV, or some other sharp distraction, I eventually shift out of work mode. It happened quickly that night, as I strolled out in darkness of the parking lot. The silence of the area surrounding the building soaked into my head, quickly dampening the voices that had been circulating. Like waking up from a dream, I was alert and aware. I was rudely reminded of pesky recent events. I had to wonder if another small surprise could be waiting for me in the dark, silent, and empty parking area. Then I remembered Curtis Viniteri. Could he be in range, watching? Honestly, I don’t know if that made me feel more or less comfortable. I really didn’t have time — or mental energy — to deal with anything other than my company right now. My resentment toward that bothersom red SUV guy was intensifying.
    Man, it’d be good to maybe take out my frustrations on that asshole.
    I approached my car and saw no sign of disturbance.
    After stopping by a burger joint for a take - home , I pulled up to the house and again saw no sign of anything off - kilter . I had a strange thought: What if nothing else happened in the chain of events with the red SUV guy? Or if it really had been a series of coincidences having nothing to do with that driver? While on the surface, that seemed a preferred outcome, I was hit by how embarrassed I’d be. The perception of overreaction…not a personality trait I wanted