Page 28 of The Butler

“Bullshit!” he declared. “Positive about a new piece of ass maybe.”

Bob knew me better than anyone. He could read my mood the moment he looked at my face and he was dead-on once again with his assessment.

I sat on the sofa and put my bare feet on the coffee table while Bob opened his briefcase. This meeting was our weekly pow-wow to catch me up on company-wide business and financials. Bob knew it all and my holdings were his business to keep me up to date about.

“Before we get started, Linc, please do us both a favor and don’t do stupid shit like fucking an employee. You hear me?” he nagged. “I’m fucking serious too. That sixteen million you just paid out to Troy hurt your bottom line. I’m just warning you, my friend.”

“God! You’re such a bore, man,” I joked. “You need to get laid.”

“I get laid plenty, I just don’t fuck the help.”

“Ouch!” I groaned. “The help? Talk about lawsuits, buddy.”

“Fuck off,” he said, gesturing unkindly to me with a middle digit like we were still in high school.

I pointed to the bar and asked for a beer. He grabbed two, untwisted both, handed me one, and opened his files. Let the business side of our day get started.

“How’d we do?” I asked. “Big weekend at the box office?”

“Brock’s latest just passed $1.5 billion and your indie with Angelina is barely making a dent on the red ink.”

“You know Angie,” I began. “Let’s continue to give her our support and we’ll convince her to repay the favor with some shit that’s marketable.”

“Did you hear me about Brock’s film,” he asked.

“Yeah, whatever,” I snapped. “Good for him that the material was so fucking good.”

Bob gazed at me while I pretended I didn’t care about news regarding Brock Mann. I figured he was studying me to see if I’d mellowed on the subject. I hadn’t, but I wouldn’t be harping about my former friend today. I had a new leaf to turn over and bad mouthing the man who stole my boyfriend didn’t exactly get me off to a glowing start.

“I have some news that’s going to piss you off,” he warned, taking a long swig of his beer while he watched my reaction.

“What’s fucking new? Is it about Brock Mann?” I asked.

Bob nodded and looked away for a second. He was probably waiting for Mount Vesuvius to go off but he was in for a big surprise.

“Please share,” I said unemotionally.

“He’s shopping a remake of Batman and Robin.”

I held up my hand. “Lemme guess. He envisions himself as Batman and Troy as Robin,” I joked.

Bob stared at me like I was a Vegas mind reader

My eyes narrowed in disbelief. “No fucking way,” I hissed. “I was joking,” I added after realizing my guess was dead-on.

“He’s pitching it to Columbia and I am not joking about this, Linc.”

“Well, good for both of them,” I stated, standing and walking to the bar. “I hope it goes well.”

“You’re not going to call Goldstein at Columbia and put a wrench in this stupid fucking idea?” Bob asked.

I turned around. “For what purpose?”

“For what purpose?” he asked incredulously. “Because you hate the asswipe. How about we start there,” he suggested.

I waved him off and rearranged a jar of cashews on top of the bar.

Bob simply gawked at me in amazement before finally giving into the silence. “Who the fuck are you?”

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