@ohsunshine
Kendall wandered from one room to another at the Harvard Club, shaking hands, and nodding at all of the appropriate moments. With its wood paneled walls, its John Singer Sargents on the walls, and its heavy furniture, the place reminded him of Logan’s apartment when his old man had reigned supreme. The only thing missing was Logan himself sitting in an overstuffed chair and holding court with Gerri, Karl, and Frank. “I say we fuck ‘em,” he imagined hearing the old man’s voice at his back as he entered the bar. “Fuck ‘em right in the ass and tell those bastards that we’re not going part of their dog and pony show.”
The bar area was nice and quiet. In a corner off to the left, Kendall made out the silhouette of an executive that he had once been friends with at the Porcellian during his days at Harvard and gave him a wave. The darkened figure gave him a stiff nod and went back to talking business with his pinstriped suited partner as Kendall sat down at the bar.
He asked the bartender for a non-alcoholic cocktail and a very tall and very familiar woman nearby. “Hey Tabitha,” he called trying to keep his voice at a reasonable volume so as not to attract too much attention. “I didn’t know you were a Harvard woman. How the heck are you?”
