The Consultant by Bentley Little Page B

have no doubt easily perused online. Craig waved and said hello, smiling to himself, reminded of a scene in How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying where Robert Morse came into work on a weekend, spread some empty coffee cups over the top of his desk, dumped a bunch of cigarette ashes in an ashtray, unrolled reams of adding machine paper and then pretended to be sleeping at his desk as though he’d been there all night—just in time for the boss to walk in and see him. Scott was pulling the same sort of kiss-ass ruse, and Craig realized that bringing Dylan in this morning might accidentally give him a similar sort of cachet, making people think he was so dedicated that he was coming in to work even though he had to take care of his child. While that was probably a good career move, part of him regretted it, because he did not want to be playing this game at all.  
    “There’s your office!” Dylan said, running over.  
    “Yep. There it is.” They walked past Lupe’s work station and through the open doorway into Craig’s office—  
    Where Regus Patoff was seated at his desk, waiting for him.  
    And smiling.  
    “Good morning, Mr. Horne. I’m glad you decided to join us today. I was just looking through your papers here and thinking that you have an awful lot of work still outstanding. I wasn’t sure you’d be able to complete it all during your normal hours, so I’m very impressed that you’ve taken the initiative to come in today.”  
    “I didn’t give you permission to do that.” He was trying to control his anger.  
    “What? Look through your desk? I know it may seem a little intrusive, but I assure you, it’s all part of the process. How can we be expected to render an objective judgment and make viable recommendations if we don’t have access to all the information we require?”  
    Craig was trying to remember whether he had any personal items on his desk. “I’m talking to Mr. Matthews about this.”  
    The consultant stood. “I understand your trepidation. And go right ahead. But, as I said, it’s standard procedure, and BFG Associates does require access to work product.” He walked around the desk. “And who’s this?” He nodded toward Dylan. “Your daughter?”  
    “My son,” Craig said coldly.  
    The consultant mussed Dylan’s hair. “Cute girl.”  
    “I’m a boy!” Dylan insisted, pulling away.  
    Patoff smiled tolerantly. “Of course you are.”  
    Craig stepped protectively between the two of them. “Leave my office,” he said.  
    “Certainly, certainly.” The consultant walked past them. “I’m glad you came in today, Mr. Horne. Your dedication will not go unnoticed.”  
    And then he was gone.  
    Craig did not realize he’d been holding his breath until he exhaled.  
    “Why did that man think I was a girl?” Dylan asked.  
    “He didn’t really.”  
    “Then why did he say he did?” 
    Craig didn’t know, but it was a red flag if he ever saw one, and he wondered if it was enough to get Patoff dismissed. Where exactly was Patoff in BFG’s hierarchy? He was clearly in charge of this project, but was he the president of the firm or merely a consultant? Could he be fired from BFG for inappropriate behavior? If not, could CompWare sever ties with the consulting firm because of the pedophilic overtones of his conversation with Craig and Dylan?  
    He was going to look into all of it.  
    But right now, he needed to take care of Dylan, and he changed the subject. “Are you still thirsty?” He pointed to the other side of the office. “You can check out the fridge if you want.”  
    Dylan immediately ran over and opened the small refrigerator door. “You have Propel!” he said. “Can I have a grape one?”  
    “Sure,” Craig said. He smiled as the boy took out a plastic bottle, unscrewed the cap, took a drink and, as he always did, let out a dramatic, “Ahhhh!”  
    He’d been planning to set Dylan up with a game on