The last person is a woman in her late fifties, dressed in navy slacks and a blazer. Her hair is blonde and short, and is swept back over her ears. At the moment, she’s laughing at something Levine just said. She has a sweet, lyrical voice that drifts over the room, the kind of voice that disarms you just before it sweeps in and filets you alive. The age-old adage, Dumb like a fox, rings in my ear. I remember all too well having been sliced and diced in meetings by people like her in my other life. As one of the partners in the firm I used to work at liked to say: Look for the fastball down the middle, but watch out for the screwball in your ear.
Dumb like a fox,Look for the fastball down the middle, but watch out for the screwball in your ear.I step out and greet them. Johnson gives me a
