“Hey. Wassup, Mr. Wells,” said the six-foot-one, one-hundred-eighty-five pound visitor.“Come in! And, please Brontae call me ‘Princeton’ or ...��P.T.’. Would you like something to drink?”“Yeah. That’s cool.”“What do you want?”“I have most everything.”“You got a beer?”“Yes, but you can’t drink and drive leaving here,” he smiled.“Yeah!”“Let me grab it. Go ahead and take a seat.”Princeton rushed off to the kitchen and pulled a Corona from his stainless steel fridge. He also helped himself to more. "Each screw up is going to cost you, Chris. This is my money you are losing and I can't tolerate it anymore."I couldn't see Chris's face completely as he sat across the desk from Mr. Barnam but I could vaguely make out his reflection in the window. He had a concerned look on his face and started to fidget in his seat."Im sorry sir. Next quarter's numbers will look 10 times better. Just please no more making me pay for it"No making him pay for it? Was he stealing Chris's money? Mr. Barnam got up. More

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