#5 Floor Plans

Jones stepped out of the elevator and into the brightly lit lobby. He noticed the security guard behind the welcome desk didn't look familiar.
"A sub," Jones thought, "maybe they fired Willis, too."
Several people brushed past Jones, scurrying on their paths to get things done. He realized that standing there holding a large, cardboard box could be disrupting the human traffic. He shuffled over to a bench along the wall, sat down wearily. He decided to lay the box between his feet.
"What'll I tell Vicki?" Jones muttered. "How does a guy tell his wife he got himself fired three days before Christmas?"

Smith stepped off the the elevator into the brightly lit lobby. He froze after a few steps, noticing the man and his cardboard box out of the corner of his eye. He turned, prepared to speak, to defend himself if necessary. When he realized it wasn't Wiggins he sighed, nodded to the man and briskly walked outside for a smoke.
"Firing Wiggins wasn't too difficult," Smith thought."The guy had crossed the line and not for the first time, either. Christmas or not, he couldn't stay another hour." The real problem for Smith was timing. He didn't have a back-up plan that allowed him to transition smoothly. And this was a hell of a time of year to source new talent.

Jones thanked the guard for calling him a cab. He went outdoors to wait on the curb. The chill felt good.
"Can I ask you a question?" Smith said.
Jones turned to his left. He recognized the guy who came out the elevator who looked like he wanted to talk to him. And now he was.
"Sure. I guess," said Jones.
"You get canned today?" Smith said while lifting his chin in the direction of the box.
"Yeah. Eight years and all I got was this box of stuff," he joked.
"What floor did you work on?" Smith asked.
"Fourteen."
"You work for Stan and Bev?"
Jones took a step closer to Smith. "Yeah. How did you guess that?"
"You look like their type. Known them a long time. Competed for the same clients."
"Really? Well, I guess I'm not their type any more."
"Can I ask you something else?" Smith said.
"Why not?"
"Was it something criminal?"
Jones smiled. "Not even close."
Smith nodded. He reached into his coat and produced a card. Take this. Call my office tomorrow morning and set up an appointment. You belong back in the game, Milt. But this time you'll be on my team."
Jones read the card. P.E. Smith & Associates. Twenty-second floor.
"You seem to know a lot about me already," Jones commented.
"Enough to hire you even though you just got fired."
Smith dropped his cigarette on the sidewalk and stomped it. "Merry Christmas, Milt. Tell Vicki everything is going to be just fine." He turned and walked uptown.
The cab pulled up in front of Jones just as he shivered from a chill gust of air.