Page 63 of Hard Count
“Friday.”
“Friday is what we’re offering. Monday, it becomes public and the number doubles.”
Carmen smiled. It was not exactly a smile, but the look you give when you have destroyed someone. A silent victory.
Vivienne turned toward Meredith.
“Meredith. Your firm is going to bill these gentlemen approximately five million each for what you just failed to do in this room.”
Meredith closed her folder.
“We’re not here to debate intent,” Vivienne said. “We’re here to price the mistake.”
Carmen looked at Derek across the table.
“And you have made it very expensive,” she said.
“One more thing, to the young mute that created this mess, Taylor, is it, if you didn't know already, they’re going to fire you, girlfriend?” Vivienne said with a wink.
They got up from the board room table. “Bye for now,” they said at the same time as they approached the elevator.
***
“Bitch,” Carmen said as they exited the building, “you were THAT bitch today.”
“I had my espresso on an empty stomach.”
“Remind me never to cross you before breakfast.”
“You cross me before breakfast every time you open your mouth.”
“That’s when I bring the croissants. But I keep forgetting you don’t eat.”
Vivienne allowed herself a small smile, which on Vivienne’s face was the equivalent of a stadium laugh. “You killed today, Carmen, but you already know that, and that's the last compliment I’m ever giving you.”
“Well I guess that deserves a thanks,” they both cackled. “So, you know they’re going to try to negotiate it down by Thursday,” Carmen continued. “His CEO will settle at that amount. Want to go to dinner? I’m in an eating mood,” Vivienne said.
“Abso-fucking-lutely. Also, I need a fucking cigarette after that,” Carmen sighed.
“I have a pack of Virginia Slims in my car for moments like this,” Vivienne replied with a laugh.
“Bitch, let’s go smoke. I think we earned lung cancer after today's performance,” Carmen replied.
Chapter Twenty-Three: San Francisco
Sunday afternoon in November was cold in the Bay Area. The crowd had been drinking since the morning’s tailgate and the vibe felt boozy.
L.A. and Piper were on a bye. The whole division would be watching this divisional game between Seattle and San Francisco.
Noah sat at his locker twenty-minutes before kickoff. He finished taping his wrists.
A lineman walked past behind him, and paused.
“Saw your commercial, man.”
“Yeah?”
“My girl said you ruined her weekend.”
