Wednesday, 8:36 amHey, Jack-O. Rob Wiltsey winked and smoothed his silk tie as he plopped into a chair. Rob-Meister. Jack Anderson bobbed his square, chiseled jaw in return and toyed with the gold fountain pen clutched in his manicured hand, clicking it open-closed-open-closed. Running late again, Buddy? Shit like that goes on your permanent record. You don't want anything to screw up the big promotion. Know what I mean? Fuck you. Rob grinned. Buddy. Rob scooted the chair closer until his soft belly pressed firmly into the edge of the conference table, and pretended to sort through the thick ream of paperwork that was laid out in front of him. He absently acknowledged a few guarded hellos from the other well-dressed attorneys already seated around the gleaming, polished walnut table. The gentle buzz of excited conversation began again after Rob settled in. Not a typical meeting this morning. Today held a different agenda. Rob had been waiting for this day for months.No, longer than that.Years.Rob glanced at the vacant chair at the front of the room and checked the time on his diamond Rolex. Where's the old man? I didn't notice him out front