I heard him before I could see him. It was the voice of Thomas Boyd, the octave of a freight train and commanding as an admiral. He didn’t raise his voice; he never had too. It was just that deep, authoritative timbre that told you the man knew what he was talking about and if you got in his way you were liable to get crushed like a grape in a winepress.

The man came around the corner, barged into my office, and commandeered the leather chair behind my desk as if it were his favorite recliner. Continue reading “How Much?” →