44 Future Madam

Tan leaned back in his chair, amusement dancing in his eyes. "Face you like a man?" he chuckled, a sound devoid of humor.

"My dear Luke, I already do. Unlike you, I don't need to resort to physical threats to prove my point besides I wouldn't dream of challenging you to a fistfight. Your comb-over would be at a severe disadvantage," he quipped, earning guffaws from several board members.

The boardroom erupted in suppressed laughter, some trying to cough discreetly, others failing miserably. Margaret, tears streaming down her cheeks from amusement, wiped them with a napkin.

Luke's face turned the shade of a ripe eggplant. He sputtered, unable to form a coherent sentence, his finger still accusingly pointed at Tan, who continued his assault.

"Perhaps, before issuing manly challenges, you should focus on reclaiming your dignity, starting with the patch on your head. Maybe invest in a toupee, or learn to rock the bald look with confidence, like Mr. Clean."