CHAPTER NINE
Journal #215
In earlier entries, I have made passing reference to my employer’s temper. While he is as prone as the next person to occasional flares of irritation or annoyance, these pale to insignificance when compared to his real anger.
Anyone who has been the focus of his attention when he is in such a mood usually goes to great lengths to avoid repeating the experience in the future, myself included. Fortunately he is not normally quick to anger, and peaceful coexistence is not only possible but probable as long as certain topics and situations are avoided.
One situation which is guaranteed to trigger an explosion, however, is (if you’ll pardon the pun) when he feels he’s been made to play the fool.
Gunther Rafael looked up from his work as the door to his office slammed with sufficient force to blow papers off his desk. It didn’t take a genius to tell that the black-clad figure that had just entered was upset.
“Is something wrong, Mr. Phule?”
“Why didn’t you tell me Maxine Pruet was part owner of the Fat Chance?” the Legion commander demanded without preamble, storm clouds billowing on his face.
The youth blinked. “I … I didn’t think it was important. Is it?”
“Not important?” Phule raged. “For God’s sake, she’s the head of the gang that’s trying to take over your operation! The organized crime we’re supposed to be saving you from!”
“She can’t be,” Rafael said, frowning. “She’s one of the most respected businesspeople on Lorelei. In fact, I think she owns some of the casinos here.”