Cynthia sat on her sofa gazing out of the huge windows overlooking the city. A tray of unfinished salad and coffee sat on the table in front of her as she listened tensely to the voice on the telephone, her breath barely moving in her body. The calculating bastard hadn't spoken to her in months, and now here he was pouring what he considered was a foolproof deal into her ear.

"Father, go to hell!"

"Don't dismiss me too quickly, dear, I've got enough material between you and your private eye to show your grandfather that would terminate all relations you might ever have with him, present and future." She clamped her mouth shut on a venomous reply, opting instead to simply reject his offer once again.

"We could make it work for both of us, you know," he said into the silence.

"My way or the highway, is that it?"

"I don't really see a choice."

"Well see if you can see this, father. I know all about your little scheme with Karen Winsett, and I also know that she will be more than happy to support what I say - particularly since you fired her for failing. Is that what this is about? One plot fails so you quickly run to plan B?"

Lawrence blinked and held the cell phone away from his ear, treating it like some impending danger. "How-?" He bit back his comment, not wanting to reveal his shock.

Cynthia's wickedly satisfied laugh rang down the line. "You're pathetic you know that? On paper, Jarmon is going to be my husband at the end of the month come hell or high water. After that, I don't give a damn. There are a whole lot of surprises coming for everyone involved in this, so take my advice and back off. You do not want to be involved any further."

Her tone of voice hit him with a sudden uncertainty, a feeling of inadequacy that both frightened and puzzled him.

"I have to go now. Don't call me again."

The line clicked dead, leaving Lawrence staring blankly at the top of his desk, the phone pressing uncomfortably against his ear.

●○●○●○●○●

Carleton sat up in the bed and fussed with the tube taped to his nose. His personally coveted little moustache was bent and flattened by the adhesive strip, adding to his chagrin. When Julie's foot had accidentally clipped his nose and had knocked him down, breaking his ribs, it just emphasized another error in the continuing black comedy.

Lawrence sat slightly away from the side of the bed, unhappy with the surroundings and disgusted with Smithee's unending complaints. After his disastrous call to his daughter, Lawrence was scrambling for a plan C, and he was hoping he might find it with Carleton. A plump nurse the colour of cocoa, waddled into the room and fiddled with the controls on the stand next to the bed, turned and gave Carleton a big smile, plumped his pillow and waddled out.

"At least you seem well liked in here, Carleton."

He snorted as best he could and pulled a face akin to someone looking into a harsh light. "They actually believe we have something in common."

Lawrence looked at him with surprise. "You think?" He saw his lawyer's features darken further, and he quickly changed the subject. "Listen, I have to know what happened here and just what the hell is going on. Word of this reaches the board and we'll all be in shit. The story I got was something about a fight in a hotel room. What's that about?"

Carleton plucked at the cover on his bed nervously. Telling Lawrence about Julie would leave him wide open for all kinds of misery, yet, if he found out on his own, he could kiss his position at Bravo goodbye, maybe even in spite of Ellington. He decided a lie based on truth was much better than one constructed of whole cloth.

"I've been doing some uh- private work for Julie Devers. Before you say anything, I think you should understand that as the company lawyer, it falls within my capacity to offer–"

"Skip the sales pitch, Carleton. What kind of work."

"It uh- it's about Reg..."

"What's about Reg.? For Christ's sake, Smithee, spit it out!" A couple of adjacent occupants shifted on their beds, antenna quivering.

"He uhm- he has placed himself in some difficulty with unpaid debts. Mrs. Devers needed someone to talk to and she ah- she chose me... as someone who knows Reg and the company—"

"Lawyer. I know." Lawrence adjusted his glasses. "So in that capacity what, you took on the roll of surrogate punching bag, in a hotel room?"

"I tried to negotiate with a thug that was threatening Jul- Reg's wife. There was an altercation... he uh- he wouldn't listen to reason, he insulted Mrs. Devers and I ah- took him to task. Unfortunately, during the scuffle I fell against the edge of a table and this was the result." Carleton wasn't about to paint himself as a helpless victim, lie or not. Lawrence sat silently, just staring. "Mrs. Devers suffered a broken wrist." He added.

"What did the police say?"

"Police? I uh- we didn't call- the man was gone. We didn't know who he was... or anything..."

"What did Reg say?"

"Oh! He doesn't know. We felt it was prudent not to let him know that Mrs. Devers had asked for my help." Carleton shifted uncomfortably on the bed, his fingers fiddling with his hospital wristband.

Lawrence held up a hand and leaned forward. "Don't pile on any more bullshit. You've been screwing Reg Devers' wife, Carleton. A co-worker's wife." Lawrence hissed incredulously.

"Now just a minute, old man,"

"No, you just a minute, Carleton." Lawrence leaned forward until his face was just inches from Smithee's. "Are you sure that this has nothing to do with my father's trust arrangement, that somehow you just happened to find the wife of the company accountant - the accountant who manages the company's books - suddenly such an irresistible piece of ass?"

An elderly man in the adjacent bed lowered the volume on his soap opera and turned his head on the pillow to face them. Lawrence glared at the shiny, watery eyes with increasing intensity until the old man faced back, resetting the sound level of his TV.

"What are you suggesting? Are you saying I'm somehow scheming to get at your precious trust." Pain created a sharp wince.

"In a word, yes. And that's why I fired Karen and took her off her botched assignment."

The two men stared at one another like duelling gunfighters, each waiting for the other to blink first. Cocoa, the waddling nurse returned with a small Dixie cup containing Carleton's pills and the men relaxed, maintaining about fifty percent of their glowers. When she left, after another pillow plump and a toothy grin, Carleton initiated a discrete retreat from his combative stance, allowing Lawrence to win the hand and retain his master over the slave position.

"You are mistaken, Lawrence but I won't argue the point with you. You will just have to do what you feel is best."