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seconds of reading before Clem was on his way upstairs.
    Clem burst into Frank Bergenson’s office, his face red with rage. Frank was watching the stock market on a large plasma TV.
    “Frank! This isn’t going to work. That jerk’s trying to run my account!” Clem stood over Frank’s desk. Frank turned around slowly in his plush brown leather chair.
    “Sit down, Clem.” Clem was in no mood to sit anywhere.
    “He’s gone rogue -- calling meetings without my consent, writing creative strategy and leaving me out the loop. This is never gonna work!”
    “Clem, Clem, Clem. Take a breath.”
    “I’m taking a fucking breath, Frank!” Clem yelled. Frank stood up and thumb punched the remote, turning off the TV. He wandered over to the wall of windows that looked down onto the Minnesota Twins spectacular new ballpark below.
    “Calm down.”
    “He’s pulling this shit to undermine me,” Clem steamed. “He’s just trying to push my buttons. That’s how that asshole operates.”
    “Seems he’s succeeding. Your buttons are all pushed.”
    “Damn right!”
    “Tell me something. Who’s the best ball player on the Twins team?”
    “Who the fuck cares?”
    “I’m asking you a question, Clem. Humor me. Who’s the best player?” Frank turned and peered over his gold-rimmed spectacles at his fuming account director. Clem’s jaw clenched.
    “Joe Mauer,” Clem seethed.
    “That’s right. Great pitcher. Wonderful hitter.”
    “Jesus, Frank. You gonna give me a speech about teamwork now? You might wanna have that conversation with Fitz instead of me! And I wouldn’t use the Twins as an analogy. They suck.”
    “Yes, they do,” Frank chuckled. “You know why? Because the rest of the team aren’t as good as Mauer. You’re my Joe Mauer but I need more players like you on my team to make it successful. Fitz just wants to be more like you. He’s just trying too hard.”
    “Trying too hard?”
    “They say you can always tame a wild horse but you can’t revive a dead one. He just needs to be reined in a little.”
    Clem wasn’t buying it. “You’re having this conversation with the wrong guy! Call Fitz in here. Tell him I’m Joe Mauer and put him back in the dug out. Better still, trade him back to the minors where he belongs.”
    “Okay, Clem. I’ll talk to Fitz.”
    “Make sure you do, coach! ”
    Clem stormed out of Frank’s office with the same force he entered and with his ego still seriously bent out of shape.
    One floor down on Clem’s side of the building, Fitz strode past Justine into Clem’s office carrying a folder.
    “He’s meeting with Mr. Bergenson,” she called out as Fitz kept walking.
    “That’s fine. I’ll leave this on his desk.”
    “Leave it with me,” Justine called out but Fitz was already in Clem’s office. She quickly got up from behind her desk and hurried in to see Fitz standing behind Clem’s chair and staring down at his desk. His eyes darted across the various papers neatly laid out like a lizard hunting a scurrying insect.
    “Looking for anything in particular?” Justine asked pointedly, standing in the doorway and blocking his exit. Fitz quickly averted his gaze and glanced up at her.
    “That’s okay, sweetie. It can wait.” Fitz flashed her a smile as he walked slowly towards her. Justine stood her ground. She wanted to keep Fitz right where he was in Clem’s office until her boss returned.
    “Clem will be back any minute.”
    Justine didn’t trust Fitz one bit and wanted to keep an eye on his every move. Fitz brushed his body against hers as he slowly squeezed his bulky frame passed her. He stopped and pinned her against the doorjamb with his chest pressed firmly against her breasts.
    “Nice. Are those puppies real? They feel pretty natural.”
    Justine pulled herself away from him and the doorjamb. “I could report you to HR for that,” she scowled.
    “Oh, please. Get a life,” Fitz scoffed as he strolled off down the corridor.

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