LITMIR.BIZ

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don’t remember hearing you say that.”

      “Maybe not verbatim, but—”

      “Oh, so now I have to interpret what you really mean instead of what you say?” There was a hint of a triumphant smile on Broarty’s face.

      “Oh, fuck off, you fat asshole!”

      “What...did...you...say?”

      Hayden looked at his boss, feeling his own face starting to redden. As with that crass old bat at the restaurant the night before, he had not intended to say what he really felt, and certainly not so vehemently, but it had come out anyway. God, he must be more tired and upset than he thought. “I’m sorry, Marc, that was way out of line. Totally. I’m a little ragged this morning. I slept on the couch last night. I apologize for my rude, unconscionable behavior.”

      “Accepted,” Broarty said in an uncertain tone. “I just hope you know what to say to Emac, after he’s gone and told his board that the project is completely doable.”

      Jack exhaled slowly, attempting to maintain what little control he had left. “Look, I know you got my phone call because I remember talking to you. And I remember what I said to you. So please tell me how you came to the conclusion that the place was in usable condition.”

      Broarty leapt up from his chair and leaned over his desk, as much as his 44-inch waist would allow. “Okay, mister, I’ll tell you. You think I do nothing around here. You think I’m a total shithead, don’t you? What were your words? A fat asshole?”

      Jack said nothing in contradiction, just continued looking at him.

      “Well my contribution to this place is keeping the goddamned doors open. Emac was about to pull the contract on us unless I saw reason. Is that what you would rather have happen? A big, juicy, lucrative contract with a deep pockets corporation just yanked out from under us, and the news spread around the industry that we had failed in our responsibility to Resort Partners, which would serve to drive other prospective customers away? Is that what you really wanted to happen, Jack?”

      “Marc, our responsibility to Resort Partners, the job for which we are getting paid, is to give them an honest evaluation of a parcel of land, pure and simple. Apparently we’ve already failed in that.”

      “Goddammit, Hayden, you are not getting it! The lights in here are still on, thanks to me. Not you, me! We still have the contract with Resort Partners. We’ll find something to tell them. We’ll find a way to get around this. We still have time to do that. Had I told him the truth, that would have been the end right there. Why can’t you be enough of a team player to acknowledge that?”

      Jack exhaled loudly again. “Okay, Marc, what do you want me to do?”

      “Those pictures you took, you still have them, right?”

      “The original ones, the ones I sent you, or tried to, no. I don’t know what the hell happened, but they disappeared.”

      “Ahaaaaa,” Broarty said accusingly.

      “But I went back and took more. Those I still have.”

      “Good, that’s good. The ones you sent me...tried to send me...are gone, so we’re clear. And the new ones...those we’ll doctor in Photoshop.”

      Jack stared at Broarty’s fat, jowly face. “Please tell me you’re joking.”

      “Do I look like I’m joking?”

      “You’re proposing we commit fraud?”

      “Bullshit. This isn’t fraud, just a little cosmetic surgery.”

      “What happens when they see the site for themselves, Marc? I mean, at some point they’re going to have to visit the place in person.”

      “We’ll worry about that later.”

      “I won’t do it, Marc,” Jack said, rising and heading for the door. “Sorry, but I draw the line here. I won’t falsify the photos.”

      “You know, Jack,” Broarty said, “even though I have personally accepted your apology for your outburst with no hard feelings, I’m afraid it will have to go into your personnel file, which will strongly reflect on your next performance review. However, a little cooperation from you might convince me to just forget the incident altogether. Now get me the goddamned pictures.”

      “Fine, I’ll give you the pictures. That’s the reason I went up there, after all. But don’t make me Photoshop them.”

      “Since I need the job done correctly and soberly, I won’t.”

      Jack Hayden said nothing. He merely stared open-mouthed at Broarty’s smirking face, then left the office, walking past Yolanda without so much as a glance, and went back to his own office. He had only been there a few seconds when his phone rang. It was Yolanda.

      “What happened back there?” she asked. “You looked like you were walking to the executioner.”

      “Good day for a hanging, don’t you think?”

      “Jack, Mr. B. wanted me to remind you to submit your written report along with the pictures he asked for.”

      “Right,” Jack said, hanging up. He was halfway through typing out his report when he realized something: if Broarty was so crooked as to fake the photos for Emac’s benefit, what was to stop him for altering the report to match it? Then when Resort Partners finally found out they were sinking money into a wasteland, someone was going to have to take the fall for the debacle, and Jack strongly doubted it would be Broarty. He could argue that his report had been altered, and it would be his word against Marcus’s. He could refuse to file the report at all and risk termination, particularly after his stunning performance earlier this morning. He could contact Emac over Marc’s head and tell him the truth about Wood City, and run the risk of exposing the company to exactly the kinds of legal action and attention that Marc viewed with terror.

      No matter which direction he looked, he was screwed.

      Only one direction held any appeal: the one that led from his office to The Tap House, a brewpub three blocks away which, unbeknownst to Elley, he frequented at lunch hours (always paying cash for his burgers and beers, so as not to have them appear on the Visa bills). It was only a quarter to ten, and he was not even sure the place was open yet, but he would like to find out. Maybe leaving this job and heading for the pub was the answer. Maybe telling Marcus Broarty what he could do with his fat self was exactly what he needed at this point in his life. Crane wasn’t the only building inspection company in the greater L.A. area. There were others, many others, and finding another job shouldn’t be too hard, even in this economy. Or maybe it was time to chuck the whole inspection game altogether and go do something else. What was stopping him from walking out on both Broarty and Elley, and restarting his life?

      Robynn, that’s what.

      Her face popped into his mind, and even though he wanted a beer now more than ever, he knew he could not run away and get one. No matter what, he had to stay put. He had to do it for Robynn.

      Jack’s cell phone rang and half expected it to be Elley calling from the airport, giving him an ultimatum, but he was surprised.

      “Hi, Jack,” said Dani’s voice. “I hope this isn’t a bad time to call.”

      “No, no, it’s fine,” he said, going over to shut his office door. “In fact, given the day I’ve had so far, hearing from you is quite welcome. What’s up?”

      “I wanted to apologize if my calling your house last night got you in trouble. Your wife seemed a little annoyed.”

      “Annoyance is the only human emotion Elley expresses these days.”

      “God, I’m sorry.”

      “It’s okay. I was already in the doghouse before you called. The worst part was that my daughter picked up that something was wrong and she fell into a snit. She was kind of a mess

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