Annie hadn't been around in those days. She'd joined the firm seven years earlier as a young assistant straight out of college. In that time she'd worked her way up to becoming one of the firm's most sought after agents. Well, as sort after as any of McCallum and Horton's agents were, which was nowhere near as much as her late father, the agency's co-founder, in his day.
"We understand," Bob said quietly, his jaw squaring as firmly as his double chins would allow.
Annie could tell he was working up to something. His face had that look—a look she hadn't seen since her father's death ten years ago. Ambition. He glanced around at his three agents seated at the table. They stared back at him, waiting expectantly as if he were the Messiah about to announce a prophecy. His gaze settled on Annie. Oh boy.
Slowly, very deliberately, he turned back to the screen.
"I was saying that we have the perfect agent for your son, Mrs. Douglas. She's young, she's...er, hip and wired." He looked pleased with himself. "Yeah, wired. We think she'd be perfect for your son. She knows all the happening places. All the cool gigs."
Annie rolled her eyes. She only knew about cool gigs afterward when she read about them in the paper.
"Well, where is she?" Dug-E snapped. He peered into the screen, just as his mother had done, his pimply face coming into frighteningly detailed focus.
Lenny, sitting next to Annie, cringed and gave his undivided attention to his blank notepad.
Bob indicated Annie. "Right here." He grinned, the unexpected movement shaking his jowls like a turkey's.
"Um, Bob, can we talk—"
"Later," he whispered, still smiling.
She sighed. Great. She was about to be hung out to dry.
"Annie McCallum," Bob announced.
The pimply boy on screen glared at Annie for an eternity, then made a face. "Nup. Boring."
She squirmed in her seat. She had a million retorts to make and if she wasn't within earshot of a prospective client, she wouldn't hesitate to let one out. But she bit her tongue. Literally. The taste of blood snapped her attention back to the screen.
"She's very far from boring, Dug-E," Bob said quickly, his salesman's face still frozen in place. It was the one he turned on when he wanted to charm, to knock the socks off someone important. He rarely used it these days. Maybe it was about time he did. Annie just wished she wasn't the object he was trying to sell, and that Dug-E wasn't the buyer.
The teenager leaned back in his chair with an audible thud, a sneer of disgust distorting his features. He stabbed the pinky finger and forefinger of his left hand at the screen. "She's wearing a suit," he accused.
"Er, that's only because we make her wear one in the office." Bob winked at Annie. "She's really one wild girl. She rides a motorbike to work and parties all night. Oh yeah, and she always comes to work hungover, don't you Annie?"
She blinked at him. The person he'd described sounded disgusting. It may be exactly what Dug-E wanted in an agent, but it was an outright lie.
"Annie?" Bob prompted, his face turning salmon pink when she didn't answer straight away.
"Yeah," she drawled. What the hell—she'd go along with his plan. For now. "I'm real...bad."
The relief on Bob's face was worth the effort, if nothing else. At least that dangerous reddish tinge subsided.
But Dug-E didn't look convinced. "What sort of bike?"
Uh-oh. Think, Annie, think. "A Ducati," she said on a breath, recalling a name from one of the bikes in the motorcycle shop she passed on her way to work.
It must have been the right one. Dug-E looked impressed. He grinned and nodded. "Fine," he crooned. "Real fine. How does she do?"
She? Do? Were they still talking about a bike? "Um, good. Rides like...the wind." Annie felt the men around her cringe. Well, it was the best she could come up with on short notice. "She's a beautiful piece of metal," she added.
"She's more than metal, Lady, she's a sweet piece of ass."
"Yeah, sweet."
Dug-E's expression sobered and his face became a blank canvas. She could practically hear the cogs slowly grinding in his brain. Then he brightened. He pointed both be-ringed forefingers at the screen. "Okay, I'll give her a chance. But if she doesn't live up to my high standards, I'm going with Jamieson and Jamieson."
Pity his high standards didn't extend to his personal grooming.
Bob made an appointment with Dug-E's mother and the screen flickered off with her waving at the camera and Dug-E looking bored. Then he turned to his agents, eyes sparkling. "Okay, Annie, you're our girl. Go for it."
She blinked at him. "Go for it? Are you insane? Have you lost your mind?"