LOOMING TROUBLE

CARLOS FOWLER'S HOUSE

“Damnit!” Carlos Fowler growled.

In a matter of seconds, he shoved off his suit coat and tore off his neck tie. His teeth grinded in his mouth as he stormed to the wine cabinet and grabbed a bottle of Penfolds Grange.

Mr Garrison, his secretary sprawled on his knees, sweat had broken out on his face as he rubbed his damp palms on his pants. “I'm sorry sir… I didn't know Chairman Jay would be there…it will never happen again sir.”

Carlos pulled out a wine glass and poured the wine into it. He downed the entire content. And then threw the glass at Mr Garrison. It missed Mr Garrison and crashed on the floor, shattering into pieces.

“Did you just dodge?” he asked as he marched to him.

“No…sir…I didn't dodge…” Mr Garrison stuttered, feeling the stiffness around his neck increased by more than a notch.

Carlos' eyes darkened. “Ah, you mean I am the fool that missed my target? Stand up.”

“Forgive me sir…”

“I said fuvking stand up!”

Mr Garrison scampered up at once.