Peter looked at Matthew. "And what are we going to vote on, Matthew?" he asked, his voice pitched a good deal higher than usual.
"As I said," Matthew went on, planting both of his hands on the back of his vacant chair, "I cannot do my job as long as you have the final say in everything. I am asking the board and the executive staff to decide which of us will run this company. If they choose you, I will resign."
He looked around the room. Everyone seemed to think their blank notepads were fascinating.
"Matthew, now I'm getting angry," Peter said, rising from his seat. Unconsciously he began popping the button of his ball-point pen up and down with his thumb. "Can we please stop this desperate little game?"
"This is no game. I am perfectly serious. And as this company's president, I intend to conduct a vote."
The clicking stopped. "A vote? Then be my guest," he said, sweeping a hand at the mannequins seated around the table. "Go ahead, Matthew, ask. Ask everyone in this room who they want to run my company."
Hands in his pockets, Peter began to pace slowly around the room, like an impatient father awaiting the inevitable. "Wait," Peter said. "Better still, Matthew, I'll ask, okay?"
Matthew shrugged deferentially.
Peter stepped behind Alan Parker, general manager of the Mate division, the first executive Peter had hired when he had founded Wallaby.
"Alan," Peter said, resting his hand on Parker's shoulder. "What do you think about all of this? Pretty awkward, I agree. But nothing we can't take care of, right? Do I need to repeat the questions? Who do you think should be in control here at our company?"