Chapter 2. Pelius Research
A graph shined on the wall of a conference room.
The new Pelius logo occupied the upper right corner of the slide and next to it were the words, "Fifteen Year Projected Patent Count." Two data series ran in jagged lines across the grid in the center, one series for Pelius Research and one series for Talbot Labs. On the left side of the chart, Pelius hugged the bottom for the current year, while Talbot towered high on the Y-axis. Talbot's line plateaued and remained steady, but the Pelius line increased every two years until the end of the grid, where in 2023, Pelius expected to have nearly twice as many patents as Talbot.
A director attending the meeting said, "I admire the optimism of whoever made this graph, truly, but these numbers are ridiculous. We don't have the funding, the manpower, the facilities, and...I don't know where to begin with poking holes in this chart. The whole thing is a hole."
"That's why we begin today," Lucas Perth said. "In the past two years we've already doubled our performance. Stockholders love it, and Arrica thinks we can set these kind of expectations as the norm. It's not a hunch, or a whim, or a delusion of grandeur driving these numbers. It's our power as an idea company. If we turn Pelius into a black box that churns out ideas, we can recruit the best scientists in the world. Even now, scientists want to work here because we let our people do what they do best. We give them freedom."
"We give them too much freedom," the director argued. "Carte blanche. It's too much already."
"No, we don't give them enough," Arrica Pelius said. "We need to start thinking of Pelius as a top company. No more mid-tier thinking. We can turn Pelius into the greatest idea box in the world. Thirty years ago, Talbot did the same thing. They changed the whole corporate mindset and started cutting the lines of their competitors. It starts today in this room."
Lucas stood with his arms folded in front of the chart.
"But we don't have the capacity," the director said.
Lucas threw his arms out and interrupted. "When we bought out Brio-Nano after their fall, you made the same argument, but we bought it anyway. When we set up recruitment offices in India, you said we weren't ready to become multinational. When we built the research park, you said the traffic to get out there would be too much. We appreciate your caution, but too much caution impedes our progress. Conrado Pelius encouraged Arrica to make Pelius a visionary company, not a dividend-doling industry lapdog. With calculated risks - and it's going to take some major risks - we can fulfill the old man's dying wish. Unless you think Conrado isn't relevant anymore?"
The director said nothing but showed his irritation at the mention of Conrado. "It's easy for you to say. I have to convey the risks to the stockholders."
"They will appreciate it," Arrica said. "If old stockholders don't, new stockholders will. Now, before we examine this graph anymore, let me explain the plan that Lucas and I came up with. There's a way to achieve the results on this graph. Mark my words. Over the past month, we've hardly slept because we've been hammering at ideas about how to make Pelius a juggernaut. Let's begin. Next slide please."
The next slide had a single word on it. "GRAIN."
"We're going to make GRAIN," Lucas said.
"GRAIN," Arrica repeated. "Get ready for the next evolution of science."
The directors furrowed their brows but listened intently. The presence of Arrica and Lucas in a meeting dominated the atmosphere, and Lucas knew that together they intimidated the older generation of directors. Too long they had collected checks without any risk, these salary men. Arrica owned the majority of the stock, and her decision to discontinue dividends and reinvest the money in the company jarred the old boys' club.
Lucas folded his arms and stood behind Arrica as she described what GRAIN meant. While she spoke, Lucas glared at the dissenting director.
After ten rehearsals, Arrica did one final run-through before the meeting, and commanded Lucas to refill her coffee cup five times. Her passion was wired.
"GRAIN is an acronym. It's not wheat or corn, although we will find ways to work commodities into the equation. G - Genomics. R - Robotics. AI - Artificial Intelligence. N - Nanotechnology. This is the holy quad of the 21st century, and we are going to make GRAIN like loaves and fishes. Already we focus on Genomics and Nanotechnology, but no research outfit in the world does all four. The trends in technology are begging someone to take a chance, to be the first to create a multi-disciplinary type of scientist that can walk across the spectrum of the great sciences of this century. Last century we focused on NBC - nuclear, biological, and chemical. The new century requires a new paradigm. The very nature of modern technology is multi-disciplinary, and the power curve of advancement is poised to spike. This is the knee of the curve, right here, right now, and tomorrow we can put an exponent at the end of our logo as we lift off. The Law of Accelerating Returns waits for a breakthrough from an ambitious company. Pelius is that company. I paraphrase Ray Kurzweil, and let this be your mission statement: 'Technological progress in the twenty-first century will be equivalent to what would require two hundred centuries at past rates of progress. We have been speeding up. The twenty-first century will see about a thousand times greater technological change than its predecessor.'"
"Ok," the director said, "this is all very motivating. Certainly knowledge is progressing, Arrica, and like you, I also find it irresistible, but we don't need to break our necks to move ahead. Yes, it progresses at an accelerating speed, but what is there to praise in that? Under your umbrella of progress, I see decline occurring just as fast in our potential earnings."
Arrica interrupted him. "Then you may want to update your CV and start applying elsewhere. In other words, get ready for a speed that blows the doors off. It's already happening. We have genetic profiling, cloning is down to a basic protocol, and you can't take a bite of food without tasting a Genetically Modified Organism. Improvements in targeted drug delivery treat illnesses more accurately, with minimal harm done to the body as a whole. We are starting to see organic tissue, like the 'flesh vats' predicted by Aldous Huxley. Who would have thought? Ladies and gentlemen, we are at the cusp of the exponential explosion. Bionics, cryogenics, biomimetics, MEMS - micro-electro-mechanical motors. Biomechanical diagnostics. And materials! Where do I even begin? Materials are getting smart. Polymers and ceramics have gone way beyond fishing poles and pottery. We have buckyballs and carbon nanotubes, quantum dots, nanoshells, and the grail of science fiction: self-assembly. Techniques and improvements in process management increase the possibility of project turnaround time. Rapid prototyping of bio-molecular devices is possible. The software development lifecycle has been distilled to its very essence. Aging bureaucrats are stuck in the pace of the 1980s, crying out at shortened project plans because they want to spend full weekends away from work. My advice for them is that they can go work for the government. Gentlemen, we have programmers going from whitepaper to shipment in three months. We can put application development on steroids, rationally. By synergizing disciplines at Pelius Research, the only bottleneck left will be patent paperwork. Patents, patents, patents! I want poor perfomers to suffocate under them. Feeders will find motivation by writing patents for producers. Producers will not be forced to pause for paperwork. Patents. The ramifications of the advances at Pelius Research will affect not only technology, but also the world economy, global politics, the environment, and health care.
"Ask yourself where the labor will come from. You'll wonder how can we possibly motivate employees to produce like this. The answer is the Triton approach. We'll put two team on the same project and let them race to completion. Whoever gets the results enjoys the glory. The loser gets scooped and dumped. We are going to do this, and in some cases, we will put thre
e groups on a project, hence, Triton. Call it cutthroat, call it crazy, what you will, but when a triton spears a fish, only one prong comes out holding the trophy. The losers will get a laptop, a lawyer as a friend, and a patent application to fill out for the winner. Losers get cleanup duty, while the winner goes to the next phase of rapid prototyping, or they start another contest. Talent will get rolled into another contest quickly. Also, to speed up collaboration and reduce information loss, all results are shared across Pelius, posted in sandbox sites, and immediately available to any lab. We will not repeat experiments. The competition can look up each others' ongoing results. This is part of the idea box, the ambiance required for Pelius to succeed. Shared information will be the norm.
"Manpower is an issue, yes, but Lucas and I have already made contacts at UC-Davis to keep a fresh artery of graduate students supplying us with life blood: cheap and eager labor. I have no doubt that Berkeley and Stanford will come to us hat-in-hand once they witness what Davis graduates are writing for theses. But even with that, we will need to hire more high-profile primary investigators, but they will not be cheap, nor should they be. Not only will we pay them top-dollar, but every time they complete a project first, we will also pay instant bonuses in Pelius stock that they can sell that same day if they choose."
The argumentative director winced. "No, that's not..."
"Henry Ford, Microsoft, Google," Arrica continued, "they knew the value of compensation paired with innovation. To join the pantheon of successful businesses, you must motivate and keep talent. Money will attract the best, ideas will motivate them. In order to free up money in the budget, executive salaries will be capped at two hundred thousand dollars for now - tighten your belts boys - this will open up millions for our pursuit of the top scientists. The days of fat and happy are over. It's time to get lean and hungry. The sacrifice of executives will not be permanent, but right now, frankly I'm willing to work for food. So is Lucas. With good salaries and minimum red tape, competent researchers will come running, bursting with the creative energy other employers suppressed. We don't want thirty-year desk jockeys cluttering office space, standing around the water-cooler discussing the Giants and 49ers, or religion or politics or sitcoms or kids or cats. Let Talbot and the rest of the economy provide the ergonomic cushions for those couch potatoes. We want young, wild-eyed go-getters. If employees leave Pelius after three to five productive years, that's great. That's fine with us. Once that creative burst is spent, once they've made their big splash in the science world, they'll be getting lots of offers to work elsewhere where they can relax, and we don't want a moment of downtime here. We want their best years, not the years when they are sneaking out of the office to go boating. As for those employees that burn out, unless they like writing patents and hanging out with lawyers all day - and this may sound brash - they will get their walking papers.
"You have to understand one thing. The combination of components, from optical to electrical to molecular, tosses the disciplines into the same pot, and these shrunken components can have dynamic algorithms programmed into them. The language of Pelius must extend across disciplines. The division of labor between engineer, programmer, and researcher must converge. As managers and salespeople we must recognize this. The new Renaissance man will be a GRAINer. Some pessimists claim that nanobots are strictly a source of entertaining fiction, but somebody write this down: if the human species ever produces a self-replicating nanobot, it will come from Pelius Research in San Francisco, California."
Arrica stopped talking and breathed heavily. All but one of the directors and managers sat on the edge of their chairs. After a pause, they burst into applause and shouts of praise. Lucas clapped and smiled. He slapped a hand on Arrica's shoulder. She turned to him. There in her eyes, daggers threatened the world without.
Instructions went out to the managers detailing how to inform employees about the new direction of Pelius Research. Using no uncertain terms, they were to sell the idea in the same manner that Arrica did. Documents that Lucas penned travelled around the room. He wrote the document with the intent to scare off the dead weight in the company, which included many of the managers themselves. As they read the first page, he watched those company anchors sink in their chairs. He knew that some only applauded to appear enthusiastic, but their shelf-life expired the minute Arrica started speaking. The internal interview process for upper level managers and primary investigators had already started a month earlier.
The Chief Operating Officer stood up and started handing out new project outline plans with truncated deadlines. The meeting continued for the directors and managers, but Arrica and Lucas left the room to start spreading the flame into other parts of the building.
When they exited the conference room, Lucas squeezed Arrica's hand.
"Arrica, you sold it. Did you see their faces? Business as usual is dead. We suffered it for too long already, now we're under way."
"I'm so hyper right now," Arrica said, wiping her forehead. "What's next?"
"You're scheduled to sit in on some interviews. Sales interviews."
"Good. Let's light up Nancy - poor girl. She sets the tone for all of the other interviewers."
They walked down the hall and passed four job seekers waiting for their turn to be called into the interview room. Three of them wore a suit and tie, but one wore only a wrinkled shirt and tie. Arrica took one look at him slouched in his seat and told him to leave.
She said, "Re-apply to Pelius when you're ready to look professional."
The applicant sneered at her, but before the sneer cleared his face, Lucas reiterated what Arrica said and bulldogged him out the door.
"Didn't anyone tell you to iron before an interview?" Lucas laughed but stared hard into the kid's face. "You look like you were pulled out of a laundry bag."
Arrica entered the meeting room, but Lucas stayed behind to point the candidate toward the exit.
The other candidates could not hide their astonishment, and Lucas nearly laughed at their expressions. He calmed them by saying, "You guys look fantastic. See you in a few minutes."
In the interviewing room, Arrica and Lucas took seats on the flanks of a fifty-year-old human resources woman named Nancy Pallock, a veteran interviewer of bright young things.
Arrica said, "Ms. Pallock, we're going to assist you with the interviews this morning. We're implementing a new hiring policy, starting today. The order of questions, the way you've conducted interviews in the past, we're turning it all on its head in order to find out how aggressive the applicants are. We don't want doves nesting in here, especially on our sales team."
"I'm not sure I understand," Nancy said. "You don't want doves. Does that mean you want hawks, Ms. Pelius?"
"No, I don't want hawks. I want wolves."
Nancy's eyes widened. She recoiled with a tone of condescension. "Excuse me, but those types don't last. If we hire those types, this place will be a zoo. I've interviewed people for many years now and..."
"Give me wolves, Ms. Pallock. I'm not concerned with life-spans or expiration dates. I want the ones that can't sleep at night unless they are selling. I want percentage jockeys who obsess and brag about a tenth, a hundredth. I want the ones that take it personal, the ones that are ruthless enough to sell product at cost just to burn off competition and colleagues."
Nancy looked at Lucas for relief, but finding none, shook her head in disgust.
"Ms. Pallock: give me sharks, give me jackals. Nancy - don't you shake your head at me. Listen to me: give me wolves."
Nancy paled and leaned back in her seat.
Lucas said, "Let's call the first applicant in. Let the pressure mount during the interview. We want to flush out weak personalities. Let them perceive comfort, then ambush them."
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nbsp; Nancy pushed a button and called in the first candidate, Tatum Blanchett, a graduate from San Diego State, who entered the room walking with stiff swagger, exuding sorority-learned charms, but for all her propriety, she seemed nervous after witnessing the ejection of the disheveled candidate.
Nancy said, "Hello Miss Blanchett. May I offer you something to drink?"
Arrica retracted the offer. "That's not necessary, Nancy." Arrica turned to Tatum and then softened her eyes, smiled, and arranged her body into a friendly position. "Miss Blanchett, we are so glad you came in today. All the way from San Diego, too. Well, let's hope it's worth your while. We make an effort to get to know our employees. No, we talk about life outside of work. Tell us, Tatum, what are your hobbies?"
Tatum exhaled. She seemed to relax upon hearing the opening question. Lucas stared at her, reading her movements. Before she opened her mouth, he had decided that she was no good.
"Hobbies, let's see."
Lucas said, "Sure, tell us what takes up your nights and weekends. What do you see yourself doing over the next ten years, not at work, but while you are away from work."
"Well, I love backpacking. And hiking and camping. I'm an outdoors person, always have been. At San Diego State, I camped every other weekend, and one of the reasons I want to move up to Northern California is for the endless camping available from here to British Columbia."
Lucas said, "Oh, you will find it here. Absolutely."
"I'm also a film buff. I love movies, independent films, foreign films, you name it. Anything but traditional Hollywood garbage."
Arrica said, "Between going out to the theater and renting DVDs, how many films do you watch a week?"
"I usually go to one or two movies a week, and I watch several on Netflix."
Lucas saw how Tatum was getting comfortable with the questions. He said, "Netflix, yes. Well, you'll find lots of independent theaters here in San Francisco."
"However," Arrica said while folding Tatum's résumé in half, "you won't find a job at Pelius Research. Thank you for coming in." She handed the résumé to Tatum.
For a moment, Tatum sat silent in her chair, smiling, unaware that the interview was over.
Arrica ignored Tatum and spoke directly to Nancy. "You see, Ms. Pallock, how much time you can save in the interview by starting from the bottom of your list of questions."
"Tatum, thank you so much for coming in," Lucas said. "You may go now."
"Did I do something wrong?"
"Not at all," said Lucas, acting surprised. "No, you did great. We'll be in touch. Please tell the next candidate to come in on your way out."
As if the breath had been knocked out of her, Tatum's mouth hung open but emitted no sound. She gathered her things and left.
"That's not very nice." Nancy shook her head. "That's not the way to treat people."
"Well," Arrica said, "this is not the United Way, Nancy."
"A candidate like that doesn't want to work," Lucas said. "She wants to play."
"That's ridiculous," Nancy scoffed.
Lucas said, "She was a coffee-shop dweller."
"No question about it," Arrica said.
"She might as well have a Starbucks tattoo on her forehead."
The second candidate entered the room, with more swagger than Tatum, and stepped right up to the trio of interviewers to shake their hands. Arrica shook her hand and asked her to sit down.
"Ms. Tagore, where are you from?"
"I grew up in Hyderabad, India."
Lucas smiled when he heard a thick accent, because he preferred immigrants, and envisioned a staff full of employees with H1-B visas. They reasoned that it was easier to find a motivated Indian than an American.
"What are your hobbies?"
She said, "My hobbies?"
Arrica said, "What do you do in your spare time?"
She shifted in her chair. "I usually don't have that much spare time. I suppose my home network is a hobby. I'm Cisco certified, even though I'm in sales. I set up networks for friends. On weekends, I teach a community education class on networking."
"Great!" Arrica said. "That's great. We have offices in India now. Not in Hyderabad yet, but in Bangalore and Chennai, and we need agents to operate between here and there. We're going to hire you, Ms. Tagore." Arrica highlighted the applicant's name on her resume and handed it to Nancy, who accepted the paper with a stunned face.
Ms. Tagore said, "Thank you!"
Arrica ushered her out the door, and then said to Nancy. "That résumé has all the necessary ticket punches on it, and she's Indian. That's like a having a gold star. It's hardly worth asking about the education anymore. As long as they graduated with honors, joined a bunch of business-oriented clubs, and wear pressed clothes but look starving, then you can go straight to the hobbies, story problems, and then the sales questions. Does that make sense? Oh! And they also have to speak perfect English plus a second language. There can be no communication breakdowns."
Nancy grumbled.
Lucas said, "I know it seems like a lot of changes all at once, Nancy, but we're on a 'hearts and minds' campaign today. You probably haven't read your email yet, but you will find exciting changes coming to Pelius described in a company email."
Nancy nodded but said nothing.
Lucas said, "Let's bring in the third candidate."
A handsome man entered the room, thirty years old, carrying a briefcase in one hand and a notebook in the other. The movements he made, smooth and certain, made him seem like a regular employee already. His past experience included seven years of Big Pharma sales.
Arrica started the interview. "Basil Jackson. So you have sales experience at Pfizer? Ever been under pressure?"
"They set strict deadlines for me at Pfizer."
"Ever missed a deadline?"
"I don't miss deadlines."
Arrica laughed. "You think so?"
"I know so." Basil did not laugh.
Arrica said, "Cross your heart and hope to die?"
"Miss Pelius, you can stick this pen in my eye."
Everyone but Nancy laughed.
Lucas said, "How did you know this is Arrica Pelius?"
Basil smiled. "Research, of course. I know Arrica from The Wall Street Journal."
Lucas said, "You read that far back in the paper?"
"Ahem." Arrica cleared her throat and crossed her legs. "Let me point out, Lucas, we are moving up. Last time we were on page nine of the third section."
"I saw that," Basil said. "I read it cover to cover every morning. I must say, the stipple portrait they printed was pretty accurate, because I recognized you immediately."
"Oh?" Arrica smiled. "Thank you. What are your hobbies, Mr. Jackson?"
"The only hobby I have is spending time with my wife," Basil said. "She's my best friend. My true companion."
Arrica looked at Lucas to get a read on the statement. However, Lucas didn't know what to make of it. Arrica fished for a non-work-oriented quality in Basil. "Do you and your wife go on a lot of vacations together?"
"No. Not really. We go out on dates with each other every weekend. When I have time off, we go on walks, make dinner, sit in the same room and read. Nothing exotic, although I think she would like a bit more adventure."
Lucas asked, "What's her name?"
"Caprice."
"Interesting." Arrica tapped a pen against her teeth. "I'm curious to know, Basil. Where did you grow up?"
"Chicago."
Lucas said, "Are you looking to move from Chicago?"
"I want to work in a small company that is growing," Basil said. "I want to be there for it all."
Arrica stopped tapping her teeth. "What part of Chicago?"
"Cabrini-Green."
"Was it difficult growing up th
ere?"
Basil looked down for a second, then up again at Arrica. "Yeah. Yes, it was. And when I was ten years old, I swore I'd get out."
"You grew up poor?"
"You could say that."
"You grew up tough, then," Arrica said, brightening her eyes. "Yet you are a lover, not a fighter? How is that possible? You must have had to fight somewhere along the way."
"I found a way not to fight," Basil said. "I see the nuances. There's always a way to solve a problem without a fight."
Arrica looked at Lucas once again and this time she smiled. Then she turned back to face Basil. "Mr. Jackson, I hope you don't get shredded here, but I think you are the type of employee I want. Yes, I can see it in your face."
"What can you see?"
"That you're hired."
At noon, Lucas and Arrica left the interview room. The Pelius company headquarters was located on the tenth floor of the Transamerica Pyramid, in the center of the financial district of downtown San Francisco. They stepped out of the front door of the building and Lucas nearly tripped over a homeless man who was lying on the sidewalk next to an empty bottle of Boone's. The same man camped out in front of the Pyramid every day, begging and rambling.
"Can't you move to another stoop?" said Lucas, while unbuttoning his suit jacket. "I nearly tripped over you."
"Can't you spare a dime or a minute?" the bum railed. "Can't you slow down? Do you have to rush around corners so fast? Wait!" The bum held his palms up, and like a movie director framed Lucas between his index fingers and thumbs. "I can see you. You're not a Nazi, but you're as mean as one, that's clear enough. You'd step on your own mother to grab the next rung of the ladder. I can see your father in your face. He is you, and you are him."
The comment irritated Lucas. Underneath a ratty leather jacket, the bum wore a ruffled tuxedo shirt. His chin had a shaggy goatee. On his head was an umbrella hat, a ridiculous souvenir that shaded him from the sun.
Arrica said, "Come on, Lucas. Let's go."
"Lucas, you say?" The bum swiveled around them. "Luke. Is that really your name?" The bum moved in front of Lucas and sniffed at his neck. "That's not your name, is it?"
Lucas asked the bum, "How the hell would you know? What's your name?"
"Isaiah. What's yours?"
"Get out of my way."
"She called you Lucas," the bum said, "but you're not a Lucas. No - it's too clean for you. A better name would be Judas. You are empty, a hollow man, and on your way to a furnace. Traitor! Watch yourself, young lady."
"God damn raving lunatics in this city." Lucas pushed past the bum.
The bum tipped his ridiculous multi-colored parasol at them as they walked past. He raved on, "Don't let me slow down the path to hell. Off you go now, off you go, burning already and can't wait to jump into the lake of fire. Ha ha! You burning bastard! Burn hot, and don't stop. You could stop, drop, and roll, but you won't. I can see you. Hey! Listen to me, you liar, Mr. pseudo-Lucas. Don't let him stoke you, too, lady. He's got the plague. He's diseased. He'll give the sickness to you. I'd suggest washing!"
The bum finally stopped following them, and Arrica said, "It never ceases to amaze me. We're in the financial district, some of the biggest banks in the world, and right on our doorstep these people rot. I don't know why the city doesn't do something about it."
Lucas said, "Too many handouts in this city. They flock here like pigeons under a tourist's table. People think these bums are saints, too. Like they are all hard-luck cases instead of degenerates."
Arrica said, "Well, I'm sure some of them are."
"We need a big hose," Lucas said. "The sidewalks are America's Augean stables. All the water in the bay wouldn't wash them away."
At lunch, Lucas spoke continuously in a monologue about the direction of Pelius. Arrica nodded and believed everything Lucas told her, but he continued to drive the point home, day after day, year after year. He coached Arrica about how to play the game and about what she needed to remember: that Talbot was the enemy. The evil empire of Talbot needed to keep a dark cloud overhead. Associating Talbot with all that was cold and calculating created a distraction for Pelius, not to mention pity.
"Always remember, Arrica, that we are a little company in a growth industry just trying to make ends meet."
Because Talbot was the biggest pharmaceutical company in North America, it was a physical singularity to protest against, a focal point, and the more the public roasted Talbot, the more freedom Pelius had to operate. Using metaphors, images, and parables, Lucas tried to make Arrica conceptualize the truth in different ways.
"Everyone watches the top dog - take Wal-Mart - and while the focus stays on that dog, the little dogs grow up."
The underdog, Lucas convinced her, engages in the exact same practices as the big dog, but no one notices the little dog until it is too big to control. Those puppies, they yap and bite at the big dog, pull on its ears, trip it up, yank its tail, and steal its food, but no one calls them vicious. The mature dog, too tired, too big, and too slow to swat the pups away, sits quietly for the most part, only pushing when it needs to maintain stasis. The trick was to make the public believe that the motivation at Pelius was for progress and the common welfare, for competition, while Talbot worked strictly in the interest of money.
To focus blame on Talbot kept the eye of disdain away from Pelius, which spared the system as a whole. He convinced her that the collapse of a large company would provide food for the little company. When Enron plummeted like a brick, the public screamed, and the little companies decried bad business while in the same breath they picked up the standard and carried on, trampling each other, showing their teeth, and fighting over the remains. No one balks at the less powerful, although they are growing into equally enormous firms.
Sometimes Arrica did not care to face the fact that Talbot needed to be the target, but Lucas did not give up until she had hate for Talbot in her gray eyes.
"That's how this little dog will become a big dog."
Arrica nodded, and then paid for lunch.
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