The Millionaires

Ghost white, I just sit there. Charlie knows I’m lost. He glares my way. Dammit, Ollie… get with it. Please.

Turning back to Shep, Charlie laughs like it’s a riot. “I swear to you, Shep. We were trying to track the thief oursel-”

“Knock, knock – anyone home?” a scratchy voice shouts as the door to my office swings open. Shep spins around and finds the source of the voice – the paunchy, but still impeccably dressed middle-aged man who’s now approaching my desk – Francis A. Quincy, head financial partner of the firm. Behind him is the boss himself. Henry Lapidus.

I throw on a phony grin, but down low, my toes dig toward the carpet.

“Look who it is – the forty-million-dollar man!” Lapidus sings my way. “Believe it or not, I hear Ta

“And guess who we brought for you?” Lapidus asks. Stepping aside, he reveals a nebbishy turtle-faced kid slicked up in a way-too-expensive Italian suit. He’s our age and looks familiar, but I…

“Ke

Ke

“Been a long time, huh?” Ke

“I thought you’d like some time to catch up,” Lapidus says, sounding like he’s setting us up on a date.

“Old friends and all that…” Quincy adds.

Cocking his head, Charlie knows something’s up. As a rule, Quincy hates everyone. Like most CFOs, all he cares about is the money. But today… today, we’re all family. And if Lapidus and Quincy are personally taking Ke

Before anyone can get a word in, Lapidus follows our gaze to Shep. “And what’re you doing here?” Lapidus asks, sounding pleasantly surprised. “More lecturing about Ta

“Yeah,” Shep says dryly. “All about Ta

“Well, why don’t you save it for later,” Lapidus adds. “Let these boys have some time alone.”

“Actually, this is more important,” Shep challenges.

“Maybe you didn’t understand,” Quincy jumps in. “We want these boys to have some time alone.” Right there, the fight’s over. CFO outranks Security.

“Thanks again for doing this,” Lapidus says to me. Leaning in close, he whispers, “And take it from me, Oliver – helping us get Ke

Charlie and I sit there silently as Shep grudgingly follows Lapidus and Quincy to the door. Just as they leave, Shep turns around and pegs Charlie with a javelin glare that pins him through the heart. The door slams shut, but there’s no doubt about it. All we’ve done is prolong the pain.

“So do I look good, or do I look good?” Ke

Charlie’s still in shock.

“What’re you doing here?” I blurt.

“Nice to see you too,” Ke

“Yeah… no… Sorry – just one of those days,” I stammer. I’m trying to keep it calm – even if it’s obvious I’m failing.

Ke

“So tell us what’s going on,” I say to Ke

“Interviewing?” Ke

I rocket up in my seat.

That’s all Ke

The instant the door slams behind Ke

“Just give me a minute…”

“We don’t have a minute – you know he’s go

“Repeat what you just said.”

“About the grenade in our pants?”

“No – before that.”

He thinks for a second. “What’re we still doing here?”

“That’s the one,” I say, my voice now cruising down the runway. “How do you answer that?”

“I don’t understand.”

“What are we still doing here?” I ask as I stand from my seat. “Shep just had us nailed for swiping three million bucks – but does he tell Lapidus? Does he tell Quincy? Does he call in his buddies from the Secret Service? No, no, and no. He walks away and saves the conversation for later.”

“So?” Charlie says with a shrug.

“So what’s the first rule of Law Enforcement 101?”

“Be a power-mad donkey’s ass every time you pull someone over?”

“I’m serious, Charlie – it’s page one in the rulebook: Don’t let the bad guys get away. If Shep smells something wrong, he’s supposed to go straight to the boss.”

“See, now you’re reaching. Maybe he’s just giving us a chance to explain.”

“Or maybe he’s-” I stop mid-step. Up goes the suspicious eyebrow. “How well do you know this guy, Charlie?”

“Oh, c’mon…” he says with a roll of his eyes. “Now you think Shep’s the thief?”

“It makes perfect sense when you think about it. How else would he know about the original Duckworth fax?”

“He told you, Sherlock – he saw it come in…”

“Charlie, do you have any idea how many hundreds of faxes come in here every day? Unless Shep spends his days hunting through every fax in the building, there’s no way he’d find it. So either someone tipped him off before it got here… or somehow, some way…”

“… he knew it was coming,” he says, completing my thought. His mouth gapes open. His body stiffens, like his blood’s ru

“You don’t know him at all, do you?” I ask.

“W-We hang out at work.”

“We should get out of here,” I blurt. I take off and rush to the door.

“Right now?”

“The longer we sit here, the more likely we’ll be tagged as scapegoa-” Tearing the door open, I look up. There’s a figure in the doorway.

With his chest in my face, Shep steps forward, forcing me to step back. Once he’s in the room, he whips the door shut. He studies Charlie, then stares at me. His thick neck keeps his head brutally arched, but it’s not an attack – he’s taking our measure. Weighing. Calculating. It’s like one of those silences at the end of a first date – where decisions get made.

“I’ll split it with you,” Shep says.