Chapter 2Thirty Minutes of Laughter After I Lost All Assets

Mario's smokehouse was tucked away in a grimy corner on the Southside.

Twenty sticky tables. No air conditioning. Just three massive industrial fans blowing warm air around.

The beer was three bucks a bottle. You grabbed your own ribs from the warmer, and he tallied up the bones on your plate to charge you at the end.

By the time I got there, he already had a table set up in the back alley.

Eight bottles of cheap lager sat between us. Four were already popped open.

They were all for him.

"Spill it. What the hell is going on." He shoved an open bottle into my hand.

I gave him the play-by-play of exactly what went down in the boardroom.

I left out the part where I giggled in my car for half an hour.

Mario listened. Then he slammed his fork down on the plastic table.

"That arrogant piece of work! She slapped you in front of the whole board? Who does she think she is! You've been breaking your back for that sinking ship for three years."

"Mario."

"What?"

"The company is eighty million in the hole."

Mario froze.

A piece of brisket hung halfway out of his mouth. His jaw literally unhinged. He sat there completely paralyzed for ten whole seconds.

Then he slowly pulled the meat from his mouth and set it down.

"How much?"

"Eighty million. Probably more by now."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that today, Beatrice forced me to hand the company over to her golden boy, Oliver. And right now, they are probably popping vintage champagne to celebrate stealing a hollow shell drowning in eighty million dollars of debt."

Mario opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again.

He grabbed his beer, chugged a massive gulp, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

"So you're telling me you're happy?"

"I am ecstatic."

"Are you actually happy?"

"I have never been this happy in my entire life."

Mario stared at me for ten long seconds. Then he slapped the table and burst out laughing.

It started as a chuckle. Then it grew into a wheeze. Finally, he was howling, slumped over the table, pounding his fist against the plastic chair.

A guy at the next table looked over, absolutely convinced we were out of our minds.

"This is poetry!" Mario wiped a tear from his eye. "What do you even call this? Volunteering to jump on a live grenade!"

"Pretty much."

"Does this Oliver guy have any clue?"

"Not a chance. He stood behind Beatrice the whole time, chest puffed out, eyes full of determination. He looked exactly like a tech bro walking up to accept a startup award."

Mario lost it all over again.

When he finally caught his breath, a thought hit him. "Wait. Why didn't you just shut the place down before? Or file for bankruptcy?"

I took a sip of my beer.

"Do you really think Victor would let me close it? That company is his life's work. Plus, I was the legal representative. If I filed for liquidation, I'd be the first one in the crosshairs. For three years, I've been trying to plug the holes. But eventually, I realized there were just more holes underneath."

"But the legal rep changed today?"

"Exactly. Oliver signed the equity transfer. I had the legal team prep the change of representation paperwork weeks ago. The second his pen hit that paper, every single debt, lawsuit, and tax lien."

I raised my bottle and clinked it against his.

"Has absolutely nothing to do with me."

Mario's expression morphed from wild amusement into a bizarre kind of reverence.

"Oscar, were you just waiting for this day?"

"No." I shook my head honestly. "I really wanted to save that company. But it's beyond saving. Beatrice didn't believe me. Victor thought I was just crying wolf. I issued three formal financial warnings. They ignored every single one."

"So if you couldn't save it, you just had to."

"Wait for someone to take the fall."

"And they literally jumped in headfirst."

"She pushed him in with her own two hands."

Mario and I fell silent for three seconds.

Then we both erupted into laughter again.

I drank eight bottles of beer that night. It was the best beer I'd ever tasted.

When I was leaving, Mario insisted on walking me to the street.

He leaned on my shoulder, eyes gleaming with curiosity. "So this Oliver guy. What do you think is the very first thing he's going to do on his first day tomorrow?"

I thought about it.

"He'll probably change the artwork in the CEO's office. He's a guy who obsesses over aesthetics. I heard he framed two copies of his Master's degree. One for his office, one above his bed."

"And then?"

"Then he'll have someone throw all my stuff in the trash and order a complete office remodel."

"And then?"

"And then." I looked out into the night street. "He's going to open the desk drawer and look at the financial statements."

Mario shivered.

"I almost feel bad for the guy."

"Don't feel bad for him," I patted his back. "Feel bad for the eighty million."