“MICHAEL IS IN A SHITTY mood,” Erika said, looking up from the keyboard behind the receptionist desk with a sympathetic grimace the moment Louis hurried into the office doorway, carrying an armful of rolled up advertisement specs. “He was expecting you two hours ago, but I covered for you and told him you had car trouble, after I got your call on voicemail this morning.”
“I appreciate that.” Breathing a reluctant sigh, he said, “I guess it’s time to face the music.”
“Lou, listen,” Erika said in a lowered voice as she leaned over the desk, “just tell Mike about this sleep disorder of yours. Otherwise he’s liable to fire you.”
The young, mixed race woman, Erika Johnson, who had moved up from Sacramento three years ago to work for the company’s front office, was one of the few people Louis
