"Well, is he OK?" barked the boss, snapping his napkin into his lap.
"Oh yeah," said Chad, with a flick of his wrist, "He's fine - just running late. He fell asleep."
Chad took his customary seat and picked up his menu, but having been walloped with what he had just witnessed, was unable to focus on the evening's offerings. He wasn't exactly sure what to do about it, but holy fuck, he had stumbled on the mother lode of inside information - this was GOLD! And of all people, Lloyd Danvers? Lloyd fucking DANVERS?! The mildest of mannered men getting a double blowie, and during a company-sponsored vacation with the boss? Had he lost his frickin' mind?!
"And for you, sir?"
Chad peered up at the server and passed the menu to him.
"I'll have what she's having," he said, pointing at his girlfriend, Shenice, "and a Captain Morgan and Diet Coke."
And who were those women, anyway? He wondered. Prostitutes most likely. I mean, who's going to suck Lloyd's dick for free? He'd be lucky to get a B-day BJ from his wife. That's why The Chadster stayed single. When the BJs stopped coming, he just traded up to a new pair of tits. He had to admit, though, he'd never had two babes on the bag.
Fucking Lloyd Danvers.
And thirty minutes later, Fucking Lloyd Danvers appeared - in the day's dirty shorts, a wrinkled teeshirt inside out, mandals, and his gray hair Alfalfa-ed atop his sweaty head.
"Jesus, Lloyd," decried the boss, "You look like a clown's day off."
"LOL Chief," blurted Chad, slapping the table and causing the cutlery to rattle against the empty plates.
"Sorry," said Lloyd, taking his seat, "I didn't have time to clean up. I must have been terribly tired. I fell asleep and slept right through the alarm."
"Yes, I know. Chad told us all about it," said the boss. He raised his arm and waved the server over.
"What can I get for you, sir?" the waiter asked, but Lloyd had been left speechless by the boss's revelation, and after more than a few moments of awkward silence, Chad took the helm.
"He'll have the onion-crusted grouper," he ordered, relishing Lloyd's unease, and Lloyd nodded a weak approval.
"Have you talked to Sharon?" asked Winona, "I hope she registered us for that charity tennis tournament next week. I texted her, but she hasn't confirmed."
Lloyd attempted to carry on a coherent conversation with the boss's wife, when it was obvious his mind was otherwise occupied with the possibly dire consequences of his poolside pole varnishing. Chad, chin in hand, studied the struggle with great pleasure.
"Listen, Lloyd," said the boss, interrupting his wife, "Chad and I have been discussing who will take the lead on the Freedonia proposal. You're the senior engineer on the Hawker II; I'm assuming you want it."
But rather than responding with the perfunctory Yes that everyone expected, Lloyd appeared pensive as he sipped his Chardonnay and carefully considered his answer. He threw a side-eye at Chad, who winked at him on the sly.
"If you want it, Chad, you can have it," he said, matter-of-fact.
The boss drew in his chin and furrowed his brow.
"Are you sure, Lloyd?" he asked, "I know you're busy, but this is a big fucking deal. Regardless of what they say they want now, Freedonia is tripling their military budget. If we can get a foothold, it's likely we can sell them thousands of Hawkers, and it may be possible to up-sell them on the Eagle down the road."
Ho-lee-SHIT! thought Chad. Lloyd knows I know and he's throwing me a bone - a BIG one. Question is, do I want to use my leverage right now? The effort I'd have to put in to get up to speed on the Hawker II would be substantial, and I don't know crap-all about the new Eagle series.
"No, no," said Chad, shaking his head and slapping Lloyd's back, "You're the expert, Lloyd; you earned it. I'm happy being Number 2... for now."
Another surreptitious wink.
