Auggie lay horizontally across the leather sectional, his left leg elevated at the knee by thee goose feather pillows, the cast of his broken right arm laying like a log across his chest.
"Let's just get it over with."
Davidson sat on a padded wooden chair cater-cornered to the sectional. His wireframe glasses were pushed down to the edge of his nose as he held a touchscreen device up to his face.
"Would you like me to alternate again?" said Davidson.
Auggie sighed. "Yeah, I suppose."
Davidson cleared his throat. "Your stock in Allied Automotive tripled overnight. The net gain to you is presently $8.55 million."
"Which one is Allied Automotive?"
"Their logo is the red racecar with wings."
Auggie snapped his finger. "That's right. That sweet flying car. And their stock went up you said?"
"It tripled, sir."
"Shit. Okay, next."
Davidson pulled a handkerchief from his breast pocket and dabbed his brow. "You've received another paternity claim, this time from a Miss Clementine Wright."
Auggie rolled his eyes. "Christ almighty. Who?"
"Clementine Wright," said Davidson.
"I've never heard of her."
"She doesn't claim to have met you," said Davidson.
"She doesn't....what?"
"She's presently employed on the cleaning staff at the Meadowbrook Racquet and Fitness Club."
"O...kay." Auggie scratched his head with his good arm. "So if we've never met..."
"Sir, have you ever...pleasured yourself in the showers at Meadowbrook?"
Auggie's ears turned purple. "....why?"
"Miss Wright is responsible for cleaning the men's washroom after hours. I believe the theory is..."
"That's not possible," said Auggie.
"It's not likely," said Davidson gently. "Unfortunately, sir, as we've repeatedly established your luck - both good and poor - routinely defies that which is likely."
"Oh god. How many kids is that now?"
"Thirteen."
"Perfect. Just perfect. Can we do a good one now?"
"Yes. Uh, well, it appears that you've been elected Mayor."
"Mayor? Of where?"
"Here, sir."
Auggie sat up slightly. "Did I...run for mayor?"
"You won as a write-in candidate. By a wide margin."
"That's...baffling."
"Reading the papers, it appears to have started as a joke which apparently got out of hand. You don't have to accept the post."
"Should I?"
Davidson furrowed his thin brow. "As your advisor, my inclination is to say no. However, given the history of your choices and their outcomes, I suppose it doesn't really matter what you decide to do."
"That's not very helpful, Davidson."
"My apologies."
"What else?"
"The chef has slightly overcooked your eggs."
"Can he make new eggs?"
"Those were the last eggs."
Auggie collapsed back down onto the couch. "Well, fuck me."
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