| Stop all television ads right now.” “That’s impossible, Ron. They’re already in the pipeline.” “So I’m not in control of my own campaign, is that what you’re telling me, Tony?” “It’s not that simple.” “I’m not leaving the house, Tony. Pull all the ads right now. Stop everything, and I’m calling the editors of these newspapers. I’m admitting my mistakes.” “Ron, come on.” “I’m the boss, Tony, it’s my campaign.” “Yes, and you’ve got the race won. Don’t screw it up with only nine days to go.” “Did you know that Darrel Sackett was dead?” “Well, I really can’t—” “Answer the question, Tony. Did you know he was dead?” “I’m not sure.” “You knew he was dead and you deliberately ran a false ad, didn’t you?” “No, I—” “You’re fired, Tony. You’re fired and I quit.” “Don’t overreact, Ron. Settle down.” “You’re fired.” “I’ll be down in an hour.” “You do that, Tony. You get down here as quick as possible, and until then you’re fired.” “I’m leaving now. Don’t do anything until I get there.” “I’m calling the editors right now.” “Don’t do that, Ron. Please. Wait until I get there.” The lawyers had little time for newspapers on Sunday morning. By eight o’clock they were gathering at the hotel for what would surely be the most important day yet. There had been no indication from Jared Kurtin as to how long he might negotiate before heading back to Atlanta, but it was assumed that round one would be |
chef had whipped up a tasting menu that began with caviar and champagne, then moved on to a lobster bisque, a splash of sautéed foie gras with trimmings, fresh Scottish game hen for the carnivores, and a seaweed bouquet for the veggies. Dessert was a gorgeous layered gelato creation. Each round required a different wine, including dessert. Carl cleaned every plate put before him and drank heavily. He spoke only to the banker because the banker had heard the news from down south and appeared to be sympathetic. Brianna and Sandy whispered rudely and, in the course of dinner, hammered every other social climber in the crowd. They managed to push the food around their plates while eating virtually none of it. Carl, half-drunk, almost said something to his wife while she tinkered with her seaweed. “Do you know how much that damned food cost?” he wanted to say, but there was no sense starting a fight. The celebrity chef, one Carl had never heard of, was introduced and got a standing ovation from the four hundred guests, virtually all of them still hungry after five courses. But the evening wasn’t about food. It was about money. Two quick speeches brought the auctioneer to the front. Abused Imelda was rolled into the atrium, hanging dramatically from a small mobile crane, and left to hover twenty feet off the floor for all to see clearly. Concert-style spotlights made it even more exotic. The crowd grew quiet as the tables were cleared |
