Ghost white, I just sit there. Charlie knows I’m lost. He glares my way. Dammit, Ollie… get with it. Please.

Turning back to Shep, Charlie laughs like it’s a riot. “I swear to you, Shep. We were trying to track the thief oursel-”

“Knock, knock – anyone home?” a scratchy voice shouts as the door to my office swings open. Shep spins around and finds the source of the voice – the paunchy, but still impeccably dressed middle-aged man who’s now approaching my desk – Francis A. Quincy, head financial partner of the firm. Behind him is the boss himself. Henry Lapidus.

I throw on a phony grin, but down low, my toes dig toward the carpet.

“Look who it is – the forty-million-dollar man!” Lapidus sings my way. “Believe it or not, I hear Tanner Drew’s holding a spot for you in his will.” As he says the words, he wipes his hand across his mostly bald head – it’s part of his constant state of kinetic motion. Despite his towering six-foot-three frame, Lapidus is like a hummingbird in human form… flap, flap, flap, all day long. I used to think it was an energy that couldn’t be contained. Charlie used to say it was hemorrhoids. They always show up around assholes.

“And guess who we brought for you?” Lapidus asks. Stepping aside, he reveals a nebbishy turtle-faced kid slicked up in a way-too-expensive Italian suit. He’s our age and looks familiar, but I…

“Kenny?” Charlie blurts.

Kenny Owens. My freshman year roommate at NYU. Obnoxious Long Island rich kid. Haven’t seen him in years – but the suit alone tells me nothing’s changed. Still a putz.

“Been a long time, huh?” Kenny asks. He’s waiting for an answer, but Charlie and I are both eyeing Shep.

“I thought you’d like some time to catch up,” Lapidus says, sounding like he’s setting us up on a date.

“Old friends and all that…” Quincy adds.

Cocking his head, Charlie knows something’s up. As a rule, Quincy hates everyone. Like most CFOs, all he cares about is the money. But today… today, we’re all family. And if Lapidus and Quincy are personally taking Kenny around… he must be interviewing for a job.

Before anyone can get a word in, Lapidus follows our gaze to Shep. “And what’re you doing here?” Lapidus asks, sounding pleasantly surprised. “More lecturing about Tanner Drew?”

“Yeah,” Shep says dryly. “All about Tanner Drew.”

“Well, why don’t you save it for later,” Lapidus adds. “Let these boys have some time alone.”

“Actually, this is more important,” Shep challenges.

“Maybe you didn’t understand,” Quincy jumps in. “We want these boys to have some time alone.” Right there, the fight’s over. CFO outranks Security.

“Thanks again for doing this,” Lapidus says to me. Leaning in close, he whispers, “And take it from me, Oliver – helping us get Kenny – it’s a perfect way to round out your B-school applications.”

Charlie and I sit there silently as Shep grudgingly follows Lapidus and Quincy to the door. Just as they leave, Shep turns around and pegs Charlie with a javelin glare that pins him through the heart. The door slams shut, but there’s no doubt about it. All we’ve done is prolong the pain.

“So do I look good, or do I look good?” Kenny asks as soon as they’re gone.

Charlie’s still in shock.

“What’re you doing here?” I blurt.

“Nice to see you too,” Kenny says, taking a seat in front of the desk. “You always so warm to your guests?”

“Yeah… no… Sorry – just one of those days,” I stammer. I’m trying to keep it calm – even if it’s obvious I’m failing.

Kenny says something else, but all I can think about is Shep. I look at Charlie, and he looks at me. There’s nothing worse than fear in your brother’s eyes.

“So tell us what’s going on,” I say to Kenny. “What position are you interviewing for?”

“Interviewing?” Kenny laughs. “I’m not here for a job – I’m here as a client.”

I rocket up in my seat.

That’s all Kenny needs to see. Big putz grin. “I’m telling you, real estate is always hot,” he adds, the canary still fresh in his teeth. “Seventeen million – and that’s just from the buyout. Where else you gonna get free cash like that? I mean, without getting arrested, of course.”

The instant the door slams behind Kenny, I sink down in my seat. Charlie’s up and moving, unable to stop. “Maybe we should call Shep,” he says as he starts pacing. “He’s still my friend… he’ll listen to reason…”

“Just give me a minute…”

“We don’t have a minute – you know he’s gonna be here any second… and if all we do is sit around… I mean, what’re we still doing here anyway? It’s like pulling the pin and waiting with the grenade in our pants.” He wheels around, all set for me to argue, but to his surprise, I give him nothing but silence. “What?” he asks. “What’d I do now?”

“Repeat what you just said.”

“About the grenade in our pants?”

“No – before that.”

He thinks for a second. “What’re we still doing here?”

“That’s the one,” I say, my voice now cruising down the runway. “How do you answer that?”

“I don’t understand.”

“What are we still doing here?” I ask as I stand from my seat. “Shep just had us nailed for swiping three million bucks – but does he tell Lapidus? Does he tell Quincy? Does he call in his buddies from the Secret Service? No, no, and no. He walks away and saves the conversation for later.”

“So?” Charlie says with a shrug.

“So what’s the first rule of Law Enforcement 101?”

“Be a power-mad donkey’s ass every time you pull someone over?”

“I’m serious, Charlie – it’s page one in the rulebook: Don’t let the bad guys get away. If Shep smells something wrong, he’s supposed to go straight to the boss.”

“See, now you’re reaching. Maybe he’s just giving us a chance to explain.”

“Or maybe he’s-” I stop mid-step. Up goes the suspicious eyebrow. “How well do you know this guy, Charlie?”

“Oh, c’mon…” he says with a roll of his eyes. “Now you think Shep’s the thief?”

“It makes perfect sense when you think about it. How else would he know about the original Duckworth fax?”

“He told you, Sherlock – he saw it come in…”

“Charlie, do you have any idea how many hundreds of faxes come in here every day? Unless Shep spends his days hunting through every fax in the building, there’s no way he’d find it. So either someone tipped him off before it got here… or somehow, some way…”

“… he knew it was coming,” he says, completing my thought. His mouth gapes open. His body stiffens, like his blood’s running cold. “You really think he…”

“You don’t know him at all, do you?” I ask.

“W-We hang out at work.”

“We should get out of here,” I blurt. I take off and rush to the door.

“Right now?”

“The longer we sit here, the more likely we’ll be tagged as scapegoa-” Tearing the door open, I look up. There’s a figure in the doorway.

With his chest in my face, Shep steps forward, forcing me to step back. Once he’s in the room, he whips the door shut. He studies Charlie, then stares at me. His thick neck keeps his head brutally arched, but it’s not an attack – he’s taking our measure. Weighing. Calculating. It’s like one of those silences at the end of a first date – where decisions get made.

“I’ll split it with you,” Shep says.