Confessions of a Bad Boy

I wince.


“Now?”

“He said as soon as you got in. So…”

I drop the magazine back onto Chloe’s desk and make my way towards Robinson’s office, quickly reminding myself of all the excuses I’ve used recently – meetings with the boss usually end with me trying to back out of something. After knocking lightly, his always-enthusiastic voice beckons me in.

“Come in! Nate! Good to see you!”

“Morning.”

If my office is impressive for its corner windows, Robinson’s is impressive because of its gigantic size. The walk from the entrance to his desk alone is bigger than any other office on the floor, and the second you step inside you can easily convince yourself you’re actually in some East Coast billionaire’s country house.

Robinson gets up from behind his desk and meets me halfway, shaking my hand with typical thoroughness, like a mechanic wrenching a tough bolt.

“I hope you’re ready for this weekend?”

I look at him through bemused eyes.

“This weekend?”

“The Napa retreat, remember? I told you about it last week. The time has come.”

“Ah,” I say, smiling with recognition. “Yes. I remember. About that…I don’t think—”

“No!” he roars suddenly. “Not this time, Nate! I understand that you’re a very busy man, with an incredibly vibrant personal life, which is why I’ve overlooked your absence from many out-of-office activities,” he says, turning back to walk towards his desk, “but this is different. Not only are the very best clients that this agency has ever worked with going to attend, but the partners, the New York office, and some very influential people will be there too.” He reaches his office chair, turns around, and eases himself back into it. “This is the inner circle, Nate. Only the most powerful players get invited to this sort of thing, and some of the most important decisions are made there. So you and Tessa are going, and that’s final.”

I stand in front of his desk, one hand in my pocket, the other scratching my chin. I look casual on the outside, but on the inside I’m being torn apart by warring impulses. I’d heard about the retreat gatherings before, but always in the vague terms of an urban myth. The truth is, I didn’t think my career could get much bigger – not without a little nepotism. But this could change everything. And now that the opportunity is so close, and yet so far away…

“I won’t take no for an answer,” Robinson says, his voice a balance between threatening and jovial that I’ve never heard anyone else achieve. “This is the next step for you, Nate. You’ve achieved everything you’re ever going to achieve at this level. You’ve represented some of the most difficult, and brilliant, clients we have. You’ve solved many problems nobody at this agency could – including myself – and you’ve done it without making too many enemies, which is mightily impressive. Now it’s time you took on a new level of challenge. You’ve outgrown the business as you know it. It’s time for you to start making powerful decisions, instead of just following them. Eventually, it could be you behind this desk.”

I didn’t get where I am by being content, by thinking that I had enough. I never got anywhere by passing up chances that were risky, dangerous, or just couldn’t work. Right now I’m one of the most talented agents in my field, which for a lot of people would be a good time to hold steady, but for me only means that I’ve outgrown my field. I don’t want the corner office and the perks anymore – I want to be the guy who can give them out. The retreat could be the first step into something bigger than I ever imagined, where talent and hard work don’t even matter anymore, the aristocracy of Hollywood. Once you’re in, you’re a made man. Suddenly I feel like everything I’ve done up to this point has been kindergarten, and I’m finally ready for the real deal.

“Well, how can I refuse when you make a case like that? I’ll move some things around and see about making it happen. Thank you very much for the offer.” I start backing away, hoping he won’t notice I’ve made no mention of Tessa, who I imagine will be coming down with a severe but temporary illness of some kind this weekend.

“Good to hear,” Robinson growls cheerily. “I’ll have Chloe send you the details.”

“Thanks,” I say, exhaling with relief and turning around.

“Oh,” Robinson calls out after I take a few steps towards the door, “and don’t even think about coming without your wife – oop, sorry – fiancée.”

I freeze mid-step, then turn around with the slow, impending fear of a teller during a bank robbery. Time to think fast.

“Um…that’s going to be a bit of a problem. You see, she’s—”

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