Rex Graham stood arms tight across his chest, barely holding his temper. He looked at the marquis he’d invested so much money in to advertise his new show.
“You had one job! Five million people in the city to watch a stupid ball drop could have seen this and it is just a white space!” Graham said.
“I told you it was a risky proposition, this new technology.”
“Two million dollars was supposed to eliminate the risk!” Graham barked.
“I can still make it work!” Hardy offered.
“Otherwise I’ll make a white space just like it in your bank account.”
For Friday Fictioneers hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields.