Free Doing Dangerously Well by Carole Enahoro

premature, he could also herald in the winds of change ahead of schedule.
    He dialled his buddy Beano Bates, who currently worked in TransAqua’s Sewage division. Sinclair had greater plans for him. He intended to mentor Beano in Water Acquisitions and, if all went according to plan, move him into Glass’s role. Although his floppy-haired disciple had little ability and less intelligence, he had the secondary advantage of being the youngest son of the American Ambassador to Nigeria.
    “Hey, Beano! What’ve you been doing with yourself?”
    “Sinclair! Just back. One word: Thailand!”
    “Ha ha ha. Cultural trip, I presume?”
    Beano snorted a laugh. Sinclair snickered too, but really did not wish to know what manner of pleasure Beano had encountered there.
    “Could you do me a fave and drop by for a moment?”
    “Of course. As long as you don’t mind the shit on my shoes,” Beano snickered.
    Sinclair bellowed back a laugh. “Touché, Beano, touché.” He had heard the joke a thousand times. It was part of the stock-in-trade of Sewage.
    Sinclair could see Beano coming towards him down the glass hallway, scraping his hair off his face. He knew Beano was as desperate for status as the rest of the employees at TransAqua. No one, most particularly Beano, with a family seat in Connecticut and a dynasty biting at his heels, wanted to admit to working for Sewage. Beano could chase the current Nigerian president while Sinclair covered other bases.
    Beano arrived, his taut body a tight bundle of boyish charm. “Sinclair! You look fantastic!”
    “Right back at you, Beanz!” Sinclair applied ChapStick to his lips and waved him to a chair. “Look, it’d be great to have talent like yours on the team. Skiing with Cheeseman on Friday. Maybe a personal intro then?”
    “Really? You think that’s poss?” Beano flicked back an errant flop of hair off his forehead. He sounded like a schoolboy being asked to a dance. “What about Glass?”
    “She’s great, but … To be honest, she’s all over me, like cling film. Once you’re on board, we can get you straight to work on the Nigerian president. She’s so distracted, every time she sits down, she sticks to her chair, know what I mean?” Sinclair laughed.
    Beano flushed crimson and giggled like a child.
    “Makes her own Post-it notes. Ha ha ha ha!” Sinclair issued a flashbulb smile. “So I like to keep her at arm’s length. And in her case,” he pointed a finger gun at Beano, “I make sure they’re fully loaded.” He eased out another chuckle.
    “Arms loaded.” Beano’s dimples deepened. “You have such a way with words.”
    “You know, I feel sorry for her. She wears those air hostess suits, and I keep expecting her to ask me if I want peanuts with my martini.” Glass had never given him the type of eye contact he expected from women. It occurred to him that she was most probably a lesbian.
    “Peanuts would be her first choice, I’m sure,” Beano chuckled. “She’d pay mucho dinero to see you in anaphylactic shock.”
    The little joke sent a shiver up Sinclair, and he continued on a graver note. “Probably why she dresses like she’s flying United,” he smirked. “Anyhoo, to be honest, we need someone with more technical knowledge. Not sure she’s up to it.” Sinclair did not like lesbians who dressed in skirts, like they were available.
    “I’d really welcome the opportunity, Sinclair. And as you know, you can’t get more technical than sewage.” Beano wrung every last drop of gratitude from his shallow depths.
    “As it happens,” Sinclair added, “I’m going to be in touch with your father, so I’ll take it as a
fait accompli
and pass on the good news. We’ll celebrate. I’ll get my girl to call your girl. Okay?”
    “I’ll bring some peanuts. Ha ha ha.”
    “I’ll write that down on my Post-its,” Sinclair rebutted.
    Beano spluttered back into laughter.
    After Beano had bounced out of his office, Sinclair leaned back in his