“There is not work enough for all our hands,
Scarce blood enough in all their sickly veins
To give each naked curtle-axe a stain
That our French gallants shall today draw out,
And sheathe for lack of sport. Let us but blow on them,
The vapour of our valour will o’erturn them.”
- Act 4, Scene 2, Henry V
The Riverview Restaurant at the Radisson was very bright early in the morning, the many windows allowing light in on all sides. The tables were elegant in simple white cloth.
Mortimer was already finished his breakfast and reading the paper by the time Chuck struggled down in the morning. He was wearing slacks and a dress shirt with no tie, and Mortimer sighed and shook his head. Chuck looked around the restaurant, blinking and blinking as if his lashes could brush aside the bright light. His scan of the tables finally turned up Edward Mortimer, and he walked over to join him.
“Morning, Eddie.” He plopped down in a chair across from him, signaling the waitress for coffee.
“Good morning, Chuck,” said Mortimer, putting down his paper. “The mushroom omelet was excellent, if you’re looking for some breakfast fare.”
“No, just coffee.”
“Late night?”
“Oh, yeah. You wouldn’t believe how many peeler bars they’ve got in this town.”
“I’m sorry, peeler bars?”
“You know, strippers, beer, loud music, lap dances.”
“You weren’t arrested, I take it?”
“Almost.” Chuck laughed and rubbed his eyes. “I had a couple of the guys out from Wholesale West. Bought them a few pops, showed them around, and let me tell you, guys from Utah really like to party when they’re away from home. Oh, thanks.” He accepted his coffee from the waitress and took a long sip. He smiled and watched her walking away from the table.
“So, are you ready for a busy day?” said Mortimer.
“Oh, yeah. I’m going to be busier than a one-legged man at an ass-kicking contest.” Chuck laughed and pounded the table, making the cutlery clink.
Mortimer smiled. “That you are.”
A cell phone started up with a muffled bleating and Chuck retrieved it from his pants pockets and pressed a button. “Go for Chuck,” he said into the tiny device, giving Mortimer the ‘just a second’ finger. “Dude! S’up? … No way. … Last night? … Shut up! … OK, Friday, then. … All right, man. … Yeah, later.” He pressed another button and shook his head, smiling. “That guy, he kills me.”
“Mmm.” Mortimer managed to raise his eyebrows.
“So where is everybody?” said Chuck, looking around.
“I believe they were all meeting at ‘The Golden Griddle’ for a buffet breakfast of some sort.”
“Oh, man. Why wasn’t I invited?”
“Maybe they weren’t at the same strip bars that you were.”
“Ha-ha.”
“Anyway, it’s probably best that they spend some time together without management around. They’ll build their camaraderie and provide each other additional momentum for today.”
YOU ARE READING
Once Were Friends
General FictionIf you think it's hard to win back the one that got away, try doing it while you're taking over her family's company. To save the firm his father built, ambitious CEO Hal Mercer has to initiate a hostile takeover of industry giant D'Arville Industri...
