The Lookout

Joe scrambled to minimize his email at the sudden appearance of his boss. “Hello, Joe,” said Mr. Blitzstein. “Say, I know this is short notice, but I need you in Vegas this weekend.”

“Is there an issue with our Nevada distributor?”

“No, not exactly.” Mr. Blitzstein perched on the edge of Joe’s desk and leaned forward. “There’s a conference, and there’s a rumor. I’ve heard that a cadre of our competitors will be drawing plans against us. A real price fixing type of thing. Screwing the industry. Customers. Us.”

“And I should have them arrested?”

“Well…,” he gazed out the window. “Or join them. If they’re stealing from the people, why can’t we get a piece?” shrugged Blitzstein. “I need you to be a lookout for the company.”

“I’ll send you flight details,” said Mr. Blitzstein, leaving. “This time, I’ll get you first class. I promise.”

Joe clicked back to the message. Her profile picture made his head swim, and thirty years his junior.

There were few pleasures like buying a mysterious woman a plane ticket.

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