In the middle of dinner, Mr. Varney froze.
He turned to smile at his boss, his ever-fragile boss, who kept insisting that he recall the joke he'd told at the meeting this morning. Had he? What had he said? I mean, it wasn't surprising, it was just h - what had it been? It wouldn't do to say he didn't remember it, nor would it help to tell a different joke, as Mr. Cameron would surely know.
Still, he would understand, and not make a scene in front of one of their biggest investors. Potentially.
' Did you know, um, when you look really closely, all mirrors look like eyeballs?'
There was stunned and somehow, quite obviously displeased silence around the dinner table. It was one of those rare instances where Mr. Cameron actually remembered anything that Varney said. Of course, in true Cameron style, he didn't actually remember anything useful or at all business related. But he seemed to acknowledge, for once, the dire situation their company was in and just how much they needed to win this guy over, so he let out a mock-laugh and patted Mr. Varney's shoulder.
'No, no, look at this guy, he's testing me, I'll bet. That's Varney, always making sure I'm on my toes -
You have no idea...
'- but what he actually said this morning was well, you know how God said let there be light and... no, that wasn't it, was it?'
For a second, Mr. Varney had been relieved to see his boss taking it in stride. For a second. But now, he realized he'd somehow managed to get himself into an even worse situation. As he watched Mr. Cameron's face turn progressively more red, as he counted the beads of sweat forming across his brow, he understood he had to do something, or this very night, the markets would crash.
'Well no, but now that you mention it, do you know the one with let there be light? So, on the first day, the Lord said let there be light.'
He paused, for emphasis, took a moment to savor the look of giddy curiosity on Cameron's face. Just a little more now. Eventually, Cameron couldn't take the pressure anymore.
'And?' he prompted.
'And there was still nothing, but at least now you could look at it.'
The two men burst out in laughter - one loud hoots, the other a polite chuckle - while Mr. Varney sat there grinning from ear to ear, like he'd just told the best job in the world. Thank God for his little afternoon rendez-vous and thank God that Mr. Cameron's paramour (his own paramour, come to think of it) had that little sticker on her wall.
Mr. Varney suppressed a yawn, as the plates were carried away. It was time to talk business now and by God, he couldn't wait for it to be over. Good or bad - well, good, because they couldn't really afford a bad right now. He just longed to be back in his own white, pristine apartment that reminded him so much of Julie it hurt. It was almost ten o'clock now and he could feel the tired in his bones. It had been a long day.
In his mind, he went through the same nightly dialogue.
He wished he could quit, but then that would upset Cameron something awful, the price of Ersatz would go down and that would ruin him. Sure, he had some stashed away, but he'd invested in this company. Significantly more than he was willing to lose.
Killing himself was out. I mean, it was quick and sure, he wouldn't care abut the price once he was, you know, passed on. But it wasn't just the money. Given how much he'd slaved away at this company, he'd probably have a rotten afterlife, knowing that somewhere on earth it was all going to shit and it was his fault.
There was always the option of killing Mr. Cameron, but then, who knew how that would affect the markets? Might change nothing, but given all the sudden burst of energy and spontaneous meltdowns he'd witnessed over the years and how he'd seen them play merry hell with the price, he wasn't willing to risk it.
There was, quite simply, no way out.
It was, of course, the same conclusion Mr. Varney reached every night, but that didn't make it any less depressing.
'Funny name, Ersatz, mind if I ask how you came up with it?'
'Oh, it's interesting you should ask,' Mr. Cameron said, all in a big grin. 'It was Varney's idea, really. Thought it would bamboozle the buyers, you know, cutesy name, might make it stick.'
'And it has,' Mr. Varney chimed in.
'But not anymore, huh?'
It had been meant as an innocent joke, clearly. Mr. Varney knew the guy, he was seriously interested in buying in. He knew the type well, terrified they'd miss out on something. No matter how big or small in the business world, he wanted to have a part of it. And Mr. Cameron knew that, too.
Or at least, he should have. But given the deep shade of red now visible above his collar, Mr. Varney was having serious doubts about that.
'It's just a joke, sir,' said Varney, obligingly.
'A joke? No, what you said earlier, that was a joke. But if you think we need your money, you couldn't be more wrong. Deluded, that's what you are. Ersatz's doing just fine, you hear?'
Here we go. It was a lie, they weren't doing fine. They were quietly sliding into nothingness and if Varney didn't act soon, the slide would be smooth and a lot faster than he'd hoped.
'And that is exactly the attitude you can expect from us,' Mr. Varney added, not at all sure where he was going. 'As you see, we don't take charity and we don't take shit from nothing and no one. Not even if they throw money at it, because while money's important, there's also attitude to consider, don't you think?'
It was that voice he used, but only just sometimes, because deep down, Varney knew that voice was special and there were only so many things it would get him. It was his own personal goldfish of sorts.
So that, the man sorta had to nod and admit that yes, he did think attitude was everything.
'Right, and you can rest assured that should you decide you want to go forth with this collaboration, your money would be in excellent hands.'
'Right.'
The man was confused, but he was no longer angry and a quick glance to his left assured Varney that Mr. Cameron wasn't angry, either. In fact, once the dinner was over, the contract had been agreed on and their guest had departed, he even hugged Mr. Varney, as they were leaving the restaurant.
'Once again, you know just what to say to get that money piling,' Cameron grinned. 'I'll see you in the morning, Varn. Remember, look sharp. Good business begins at the first impression.'
Clapping his friend on the back, Mr. Cameron got into his limousine and waved bye-bye. Really, he had the mind of a child inside the body of an ailing, extremely powerful forty year old.
Mr. Varney stood on the pavement, waving back. He didn't have time to hear or see the flowerpot, much less the woman eight stories above shouting 'look out'.
The End (so far)