Deals Over Diner Tables

He squirmed in his chair, straightening his tie again. For a moment, I almost pitied him. Almost.

He’s playing the classic bait-and-switch. I’m the scapegoat, and he’s the one walking away clean.

It was the oldest trick in the book—blame the little guy, keep the big fish out of the spotlight.

The extra $30,000 the company paid probably lined his pockets. Giving me $450 and recording it was just to set me up. Cold-blooded.

I could picture the money trail—just enough crumbs left to point at me, while he kept the whole loaf.

Back then, I had three quotes: $135, $150, and $195. He made me pick the $195 one, saying it would last longer. Now he’s acting like he never saw those numbers, pushing me out to take the blame?

I remembered the meeting—he’d brushed off the cheaper quotes with a wave. Now, he wouldn’t even meet my eyes.

"Director Lee, let me ask—was it you who told the supplier to report me?"

I watched his face for any sign of guilt.

Travis Lee’s eyes widened, and for a second, his mouth opened like he wanted to protest, but nothing came out.

"Blake, don’t say things you can’t prove. Do you have any evidence?"

He tried to sound composed, but the way he wrung his hands on the desk gave him away.

I didn’t answer.

Sometimes, silence says more than words. I let him stew in it, watching his mask slip.

Travis Lee got even more anxious.

He started drumming his fingers on the desk, glancing at the door as if he expected someone to barge in.

"You really don’t know what’s good for you. I got you off with just paying back $450, and you still won’t agree? Fine, I’m done trying to help!"

His mask was gone—now he was just angry, desperate to push the mess onto someone else.

"Director Lee, whether you help or not, I didn’t take anything. The ones who should be worried are the people who actually pocketed the money!"

I stood up, letting the chair scrape loudly against the linoleum floor. I wanted him to remember this moment—the echo ringing down the hallway.

With that, I pushed open his office door and left, leaving him red-faced and seething behind me.

His lips were pressed into a thin line, hands balled into fists. I didn’t look back.

3

When I got back to the office, Procurement Manager Mariah Turner was already waiting at the door.