Chapter Four
Hunter was late. He hated being late. The meeting with Branson, Inc. had gone long so it had been unavoidable.
The five-man band played a classic piece from the fifties in the spacious ballroom, probably able to hold five-hundred people. The chandeliers sparkled along with the candles set at every black-clothed table. Hunter had been to a million of these kinds of functions. It was par for the course when running his own business that depended heavily on networking and relationship-building—which was why Cheryl’s recommendation was crucial.
When Cheryl had called to say she couldn’t make it, he’d been tempted to bail. He didn’t give a rat’s ass about the two-hundred and fifty dollar per plate ticket. That was a business expense Hunter budgeted for every year. Socializing an
