Read Online No Accident by Dan Webb - Free Book Online Page B

job. The camera was working beautifully. Sheila wasn’t there right now. That was annoying. Luke wanted to spy on her, to see her act out the frustration he was causing her. Maybe she was out at a long lunch, maybe a job interview—he could hope, anyway. Here they were, getting divorced, and she was still working away in Liberty’s human resources department, with her soon-to-be ex-husband as her boss. Was she just a glutton for punishment? Or does she stick around to keep an eye on me? Luke wondered. That would be ironic, because here he was watching her, or at least watching her empty office.
    “Welcome to the Libe rty Industries Q4 earnings call . . .”
    A woman’s voice made Luke remember where he was. It was the call moderator delivering her dreary introduction. Her voice emerged from a speakerphone in the conference room where Luke sat with his CFO. Her voice was un sexy. Why weren’t women sexy anymore? Luke thought about Petra, his mistress. He thought about her fishnet stockings and her long, strong legs. Then he felt a physical response and forced himself to stop thinking about that. He thought about revenue recognition instead.
    His CFO waved at him to get his attention; Luke was up. Luke listlessly took a sheet of paper that had his lines and began reading in a sonorant baritone.
    “This was a strong quarter to end a milestone year. Our alternative energy products are really starting to see traction, and we have a lot of exciting new clean tech ideas that we hope to bring to market within the next year. Meanwhile, our legacy fossil fuels segment led us to record revenues this year and continues to provide funds for further research and judicious acquisitions. Now I’ll turn the call over to our CFO, Jim Branford, for a more detailed discussion of this quarter’s financial results. Jim?”
    God , Luke thought, this call is so dull I’m even boring myself . He couldn’t help thinking of all the real work he could be doing if he weren’t wasting time on this conference call. Another peek at the Sheila-cam showed she was still not at her desk. If Luke didn’t already have other plans to make her life miserable, he would have fired her for that. He wanted to see her squirm. He wanted another misery fix, like when he’d had a secret microphone installed in her office— thanks again, Crash —and listened to the desperation in Sheila’s voice as she called lawyer after lawyer all across Los Angeles, trying to find someone to represent her in the divorce. “What do you mean, you have a conflict?” she asked again and again, as curt and indignant as if she were snapping at a bellhop. Then the lawyer on the other end would say something like, “I can’t give more details than that,” and would offer his regrets and a recommendation for another lawyer she might try. But guess what? Luke had already visited the next lawyer, too, told the lawyer all his dirty laundry, and created yet another conflict. Luke loved remembering that. He couldn’t wait to do battle with Sheila in court. He would bring the biggest guns of the L.A. bar, and she would bring . . . well, who knew what the hell she would bring, but it wouldn’t be a fair fight.
    Jim had finished his spiel for investors, and the moderator started into the queue of questions from analysts. For Jim’s benefit, Luke pointed to his smartphone to indicate that he would be paying attention to his email rather than the questions. Jim nodded energetically: he would answer the investors’ questions and not bother Luke unless necessary. Jim was in his forties, but still as enthusiastic and as eager to please as a puppy.
    Luke turned to his email. The past ten years, it had felt like sending emails took up most of Luke’s waking hours, and too many of the hours he should have been sleeping. And just when he finished answering one email, another two or three came in.
    Luke thought of his smartphone like the world’s tiniest newborn baby. Instead of