Rob Manor couldn’t have been happier with the way his day had gone. The morning deposition was more revealing than he hoped and he felt completely prepared for trial Monday. Even the disarray and clutter on his desk didn’t bother him as he ’commed Nell and informed her he was out the door.
“Enjoy the game, Mister Manor,” she said in her perky way.
“Believe me, I intend to. And you have a nice weekend too.”
He fumbled into his suit coat, grabbed his briefcase and ambled out into the common office area where a few heads turned. It was no secret he was leaving early for the third game of the World Series, but he still felt sheepish playing hooky even if he was merely stealing a few hours. It was a few hours he could not in all good conscience bill to a client.
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Elevatoring down to the building’s garage, he located his jet black 911 and popped the trunk. He traded his briefcase for a bundle of clothes and a wire coat hanger, went looking for the parking lot manager. He found Ray in his office, asked if it was okay to use the attendants’ changing room which was merely a formality. They had discussed how he would need it weeks ago when Manor finally had his ticket in hand.
Ray looked properly envious.
Manor emerged from the washroom a different man: casually dressed in jeans and long-sleeve wool Pendleton, his suit and tie carefully folded over the hanger which he dropped unceremoniously into the trunk.
