High golden
hills, peppered every ten or so acres with colossal mansions,
passed on either side as sidled to the right lane. Passing the
auto repair shop, he thought of Laurence Maupin. She had been
hired into the newly created position as his personal public
relations assistant one month ago. The timing was perfect for
positioning her loyalties in his favor. He had revealed to her
his plan for tomorrow's meeting, and asked her to secretly
prepare his press statement under the assumption that everything
would go perfectly. There was no guarantee that tomorrow's board
decision would favor him over Peter, yet he was betting his
career on his plan. He reminded himself of his discussion with
Laurence a few minutes earlier, about the over-and-done-with tone
of her voice as she read Matthew his statement on the other end
of the line, speaking in a nearly conspiratorial tone as she sat
in his office, holding his telephone in her hand. He felt his
spirits lift.
He felt something else lift, too. His mind's eye fixed on an
image of the young and beautiful Laurence sitting at his desk,
her hand clasped around his handset, her lips close to the
mouthpiece, her words forging a new alliance between them. He
focused on his memory of her hands. Was there enough time? He
pressed his palm to his groin and considered opening his trousers
and taking care of himself, as he sometimes did on his way home
from work.
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