Once I clear the conference area, I spot my weasel of an ex-employee flirting with one of ’stache’s secretaries. Guy would rather chase tail than show up to his own lawsuit mediation. I slow my steps as I pass her desk, drawing a questioning glance from the secretary and an arrogant sneer from him. I lean in toward her and say in a whisper that’s loud enough for the whole room to hear, “Make sure you’re stocked up on penicillin. Otherwise it takes forever for it to go away.” Both of their mouths drop open in unison as I continue on to the elevator, humming a happy Elvis tune.
