Chapter 60
In such a manner, he knew what I did, and it left a lot of room for his imagination
After the handshake, Edward turned to George, his voice steady and sincere, "George, John's a reliable chap. If it's within your means, do look out for him."
At their stature, words carried weight and were seldom repeated. George acknowledged this with a nod and a warm smile, signaling his understanding.
"John," George began, a hint of camaraderie in his tone, "I've got a few years on you. If it doesn't bother you, feel free to call me George, just as Edward does."
In response, I was quick to interject, "No, Mr. Jefferson, that would be far too informal! I'll address you as Jefferson."
His courtesy towards me was a favor to Edward, and it was only fitting that I reciprocate with respect. To address him by his first name, even if he didn't voice any discomfort at the moment, might cause unease later once he discovered my true standing.
"Let's agree on that then," George responded, his laughter hearty and genuine, "In that case, I'll call you John."
Seeing George's affable demeanor, I found myself at ease.
Following behind the two, a glass of wine in hand, I listened as Edward introduced me to various individuals. I seized the opportunity to gather their contact information.
These were personal numbers, not business lines. If I were to monetize these resources, I could demand as much as nine million dollars per number.
However, only a fool would squander such exclusive resources. They were safest in my possession.
"John, allow me to introduce you. This is Mr. Simpson from Simpson Company!"
Simpson Company?
The name rang a bell. The company had shown promising growth in the past but seemed to have hit a rough patch recently, even making headlines for failing to pay its employees.
Of course, that news was swiftly quashed.
Upon shaking hands with Mr. Simpson, I attempted to engage him in conversation. However, he seemed disinterested in me, and his attention was evidently divided between me and someone else he had brought along.
And that person looked oddly familiar.
Wasn't that Phillip Brown, my college classmate?
What was he doing here?
Our college days were marred by a mutual dislike, primarily because he had a penchant for trying to steal my girlfriend.
After a well-deserved thrashing, he would often boast in our group chat about his position as a client manager at Skyliart Group. It sounded impressive, but in reality, he was just an ordinary employee.
But how did he come to be associated with Frank Simpson?
"Mr. Walker, Mr. Jefferson, allow me to introduce Phillip Brown, my future son-in-law."
What?
Future son-in-law?
So, he was involved with Frank's daughter. That explained it.
Phillip was impeccably dressed, his shoes gleaming, his hair slicked back.
"Mr. Walker, Mr. Jefferson, I'm Phillip, an employee at Skyliart Group. Here's my business card!"
He hastily produced a gilded business card, and in doing so, blatantly snubbed me. It was clear he had recognized me.
Edward and George frowned. This gathering was a private affair among friends, and Phillip's blatant distribution of business cards was an inappropriate intrusion.
Phillip seemed oblivious to their disapproval, basking in self-satisfaction as they accepted his cards.
Suddenly, he turned to me, "Yo, John, fancy running into you here."
"Indeed, quite the coincidence," I responded, maintaining my composure while subtly distancing myself from him.
His overpowering perfume was a nuisance. Could he be gay?
We barely interacted on regular days, and now he was greeting me with such warmth. There had to be a catch.
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