“Can I get you a drink?” Carl suggested, motioning toward a bottle of bourbon on a side table.
“Don’t mind if I do,” Kim said. Kim had never been much of a drinker, although over the last six months a nightly cocktail had become a habit.
Carl put down his cowboy hat and stepped over to the sideboard. Kim noticed he seemed to have a proprietary manner.
“I saw that interview Kelly Anderson did with you a month or so ago,” Carl said as he shoveled several ice cubes into an old-fashioned glass.
“I’m sorry,” Kim said. “I was hoping most people missed it.”
Carl splashed a generous dollop of liquor over the ice and then handed the drink to Kim. He sat back down on the couch next to his cowboy hat. Kim lowered himself into a facing club chair.
“You have a right to be angry about it,” Carl said condescendingly. “It wasn’t fair. TV news has an irritating way of twisting things.”
“Sad, but true,” Kim agreed. He took a sip of the fiery fluid and inhaled before swallowing. He felt a comfortable warm feeling course through his body.
“I certainly didn’t buy her premise,” Carl said. “You guys earn every penny you get. I mean, I personally have a lot of respect for you doctors.”
“Thank you,” Kim said. “That’s very reassuring.”
“Seriously,” Carl said. “In fact I was premed for a couple of semesters in college.”
“Really? What happened? Didn’t you like it?”
“It didn’t like me,” Carl said with a laugh that ended with a peculiar snorting sound. “It was a wee bit too demanding, and it began to cut into my social life.” Carl laughed again as if he’d just told a joke.
Kim began to wonder what Tracy saw in the guy.
“What do you do?” Kim asked to make conversation. Besides, he was interested. Considering the lower-middle-class neighborhood, the yellow Lamborghini outside had to belong to Carl. Plus there was Tracy’s comment about not flying commercial. That was even more worrisome.
“I’m CEO of Foodsmart,” Carl said. “I’m sure you’ve heard of us.”
“I can’t say that I have,” Kim said.
“It’s a large agricultural business,” Carl said. “Really more of a holding company. One of the largest in the state, actually.”
“Wholesale or retail?” Kim asked, not that he knew much about business.
“Both,” Carl said. “But mainly export wholesale involving grain and beef. But we’re also the major stockholder in the Onion Ring burger chain.”
“I’ve heard of them,” Kim said. “I even own some stock.”
“Good choice,” Carl said. Then he leaned forward, and after furtively looking around as if he thought there were a chance of hidden eavesdroppers, he whispered: “Buy some more Onion Ring stock. The company’s about to take the chain national. Consider it an insider tip. Just don’t tell anyone where you heard it.”
“Thanks,” Kim said. Then he added sarcastically: “I’ve been wondering what to do with all my discretionary income.”
“You’ll be thanking me a thousandfold,” Carl added, insensitive to Kim’s tone of voice. “The stock is going to go through the roof. In a year’s time the Onion Ring will be out there challenging McDonald’s, Burger King, and Wendy’s.”
“Tracy mentioned you two are flying to Aspen on a private plane,” Kim said, changing the subject. “What do you fly?”
“Me personally?” Carl questioned. “I don’t fly. Hell, no! I’d be the last person to get into a plane with me behind the controls.”
Carl laughed again with his peculiar style, making Kim wonder if the guy snored when he slept.
“I’ve a new Lear jet,” Carl added. “Well, technically it’s Foodsmart’s, at least according to the IRS. Anyway, as you undoubtedly know, for such an aircraft the FAA mandates we have two highly qualified pilots.”
“Of course,” Kim said as if he were intimately aware of the rule. The last thing he wanted to do was reveal his ignorance of such things. Nor did he want to let on how angry it made him feel that a businessman who did nothing but shuffle paper could have such perks while he, who worked twelve hours a day on people’s hearts, was having trouble keeping his decade-old Mercedes on the road.