No ... what?
You know, he said again. And Gilbert and Angie, he
added with a roll of his eyes. Now theres a pair. Dont get me wrong ... theyre great and all that, but they just arent the right type. I really need you, Rebecca. You know how important appearances are, he said with a wink. Youre perfect for this!
That was the second time someone had insinuated she was all about appearances. Whatever. On the one hand, it thrilled her to think that Tom thought so highly of her, particularly after such a long drought of anyone thinking of her at all. But on the other hand, she wondered what he was really up to. It wasnt as if she had any experience with the media, but she figured he must think she did, what with the few media encounters she had more than ten years ago after winning the Miss Texas crown. And she knew she could do it, just like she knew she could do the Silver Panthers. How hard could this be? All she had to do was: (1) Have confidence (A Womans Guide to Meaningful Employment); (2) Visualize herself in the role (Transformation Strategies Seminars, Track 4); and (3) Give off an appearance of self-assurance and capability (Unqualified Applicant Rule 11: Never wear pink and never go sleeveless).
Still... What about Matt? she had asked.
Tom laughed. Matt? Are you crazy? No one likes lawyers! he scoffed.
Right. Especially a self-centered lawyer who was, unfortunately, wrapped in a killer body. Actually, Rebecca thought as she brushed her hair that afternoon, she could be attracted to him big time. That was to say, he certainly could get her blood pumping. Hed be just about perfect if it werent for... well, him, frankly, the heartless deer-hating bastard that he was. Rebecca guessed that wisely, the last thing Tom wanted to do was get the media people all riled up, and who better to rile them up (and anyone else who happened to be standing in a ten-mile radius) than Matt?
And in the meantime? It was obvious that Uranus and karma were making plans for the permanent renovation of her house! Yeah bay-by, her life was finally about to turn around! And to keep it on track, Rebecca made time to practice her self-visualization techniques (campaign strategist), and jotted down her three daily positive affirmations:
Nice clothes
Good phone presence (phone bank) with a Heart, unlike some people.
Hard worker (yard signs) when some people think their lame ideas are all the work they need to do. And there is nothing wrong with placing yard signs where they are aesthetically pleasing to the eye!
And thereby being fully prepared, Rebecca arrived at the Four Seasons in a tastefully low cut, sheer lavender blouse with full sleeves, a knee-length black skirt, and black knee-high boots, and walked purposefully to the bar on the lobby level, where Tom said hed be.
She spotted him in the very crowded bar, noticed hed even managed to snag a table in the center of the room, where he was flanked by two twenty-somethings. That surprised Rebecca for some reason, she had pictured media types as looking generally like Dan Rather mini-mes. When Tom caught sight of her, he came instantly to his feet. His companions a male and female, both thin and wiry and dressed in black, both sporting black-rimmed matchbox glasses, and both with the bed-head look, only hers a little longerswiveled in their seats to have a look.
Rebecca! Tom called, as if she hadnt seen him, which of course she had, since they were looking directly at each other and waving. Visualizing Rebecca, campaign strategist, she marched forward to greet them. Hi, Tom. How are you? she asked as she reached the table, confidently extending her hand.
Great! Id like you to meet Gunter Falk and Heather Hill. They are with DGM and Associates, our new media consultants! Gunter, Heather, this is an old and dear friend of mine, Rebecca Reynolds.
Umm ... Lear, Rebecca politely corrected him as Heather shifted, folding her arms on the table as she had a
look at Rebecca from the top of her head to the tips of her boots.
Yo, said Gunter, giving her a two-finger salute as he slid down in his chair so deep that he was practically prone, looking a little like an elongated semicolon. You work with Toms campaign? he asked, as he, too, eyed her critically so critically that Rebecca was beginning to feel just a smidge self-conscious and wished theyd stop. Was it her imagination, or did she look ridiculously frumpy next to their sleek black and lean L.A. looks?
Ah, yes, she said, feeling, all of a sudden, that she looked like some souped-up soccer mom, and definitely not a player. Unqualified Applicant Rule 7: Be confident! If you aren t confident in yourself, no one else will be confident in you, either!
Rebecca, would you like something to drink? Tom was asking her.
Id love a glass of wine. Like an entire barrel.
He smiled reassuringly as he held out a chair for her. We were just talking about a look for the campaign.
Masters! someone shouted. Tom jerked his head up, saw whoever it was and waved. He then leaned down, patted Rebecca on the shoulder. Rebecca, tell them what activities we have planned, okay? Ill be back in a sec. Oh, hey! If you didnt know it, Rebecca was Miss Texas! he announced in what was becoming a really annoying habit of his, and stepped away from the table before Rebecca could frantically grab his coattail and pull him back.
Really? asked Gunter, outwardly amazed, as Tom strutted away.
Well, Rebecca said, laughing nervously. That was more than ten years ago.
But thats so cool, Heather said, nodding in unison with Gunter. But probably way too old for us to use, she added thoughtfully.
Well, thanks, Heather! Want to borrow my comb? Fortunately, Im not the one running, Rebecca politely reminded her.
Right, Gunter said, nodding again. Lets get a drink.
And then you can tell us what all the campaign has going on.
What all the campaign has going on? Like she was supposed to know? All she knew was that Tom wanted her to meet some people! This wasnt exactly what she thought it would be, not even close, and now she was going to have to redo the whole visualization thing. Heather and Gunter were discussing what they would order from the bar, so Rebecca tried to think. Here she was with media types, talking about. .. what? Fabulous. She had no idea what Tom had in store. Note to self: Find out what Tom has planned! Jesus!
The waitress appeared with two martinis and a glass of wine. White wine. Rebecca despised white wine; it made her silly. But she took a good, fortifying sip all the same and looked at her new companions, Frick and Frack, who blinked back at her. Wait a minute. She had been at the top of Dallass social scene, which meant she had swum in shark-infested waters many times. A couple of kids from L.A. shouldnt be a challenge. Where the hell was her alter ego, anyway?
So. Were looking for some of your upcoming events and how we can weave those into a couple of TV spots about Tom, Heather clued her in. You know, Tom Masters doing good things and meeting people, that sort of thing.
Oh, Rebecca answered brilliantly.
Yeah.... So what have you got? Gunter pressed her.
Let me think, she said, and hid behind a sip of wine as she looked to where Tom was standing, between two chunky gray-haired dudes, and thought, in answer to Gunters question, that what she had was a good swift kick in the ass for Tom. In fact, she visualized it, which caused her to smile.
Something good, huh? Gunter asked.
Be confident. Be strong. Be assertive! Yyyess! she said, perhaps just a tad too enthusiastically. We have an appearance at the Silver Panthers lined up. Were throwing a little party the night before their conference begins out at Lakeway.
Neither Frick nor Frack said anything for a moment; they seemed to be mulling it over. But slowly, Gunter began to nod. No, thats good we can actually use that in a couple of spots. He suddenly sat up, intent on Heather. Im thinking of something like those arthritis pill commercials. You know the one that has all the old people dancing and looking hip?
Yeah, yeah . .. and theres the old guy who gets into a rocket and decides to check out the universe? Heather reminded him.
Sweet, said Gunter. We can get some shots of old dudes like that at the party. Frick and Frack smiled thinly at each other, then at Rebecca. So when is this deal?
This Thursday evening.
Sweet. A party. Well get a photographer out to get some shots of Tom dancing with an old lady, Gunter added.
Never mind the fact that Rebecca was fairly certain that old lady was not a politically correct term, but they had the wrong idea if they thought there would be any dancing. Im sorry if I gave you the wrong impression, but there wont be any dancing
You said party! Heather said accusingly.
Yes, but not dancing
Then what? asked Gunter.
Then bingo.
Bin-go? Gunter shouted, sounding more clueless than upset.
Lots of senior citizens play bingo.
I know seniors play it, Gunter said in something of a whine, but I didnt think that was what Tom had in mind. He looked hopeful that Rebecca might, perhaps, be kidding.
She was so not kidding. She had thought long and hard about how to engage the Silver Panthers, had even consulted Jo Lynn (who thought her idea was genius, thank you very much, Frick and Frack). Tom could mingle a little between games and even take one of the breaks to deliver some sort of speech. Think of how good Tom will look, hanging out with seniors, she said. It will be a great way to get their attention.
It is a great venue, Heather reluctantly conceded. Dont get me wrong. I mean, the object is to get Tom and voters in the same place at the same time, right? In a place that feels comfortable to them.
Okay! Heather and her hair were coming around!
I suppose we could shoot something there. Actually, it might be kind of cool. She looked at Gunter. A sort of hip throwback, something like that.
Right! Rebecca brightly agreed, having absolutely no idea what Heather meant.
Talk to me, Gunter said, and the two of them proceeded to brainstorm as if she wasnt sitting right there between them. The one time she tried to interject, Frick flashed a thin, go-over-there-and-leave-us-alone smile, which had unhinged her so completely that she could do nothing but down her wine. Unqualified Applicant Rule 2: If you cant add value to the task, dont add. All right, no big deal. They were the experts.
Rebecca looked around for Tom. While she was drinking that godawfully sweet white wine and doing his business with Frick and Frack, he and his pals had pulled up another table and chairs. Apparently, Tom meant to have a little party. She imagined herself dropping a potted plant on Toms fat head. In the course of visualizing that, she noticed that one of his palsthe one with the duck lips and bald pate was smiling at her.
Ugh.
Unbeknownst to Rebecca, Ben was smiling at her, too, while Matt paid the waitress for their two bourbons.
Je -sus, who the hell is that? Ben asked, motioning toward Rebeccas back with his bourbon.
Matt looked up; his heart did some strange, annoying little flip that he paid no mind. You dont want to know, trust me, he sighed, and noticed that Tom was there, too, along with Representative Jeffers and Fred Davis. Hello, what is this?
Like hell I dont. What are you saying you know her? Ben demanded.
Yeah. Shes working on Toms campaign. But shes a beauty queen from outer space and believe me, you dont want to get within a ten-mile radius. What I want to know is what the hell is she doing here with Tom.
Jealous? Ben scoffed.
Hell no! Matt said as he stood up.
Lets talk about slogans a moment, Gunter was saying, drawing Rebeccas attention back to him. Maybe you can help us out.
And maybe Ill just have another glass of wine.
Im sorry, did you say something? Gunter asked.
Me? Rebecca asked, just as one of the men who had joined Tom lunged across the table, hand extended, and shouted, as if anyone could have possibly cared. Hey! Fred Davis is the name!
Rebecca looked at his hand. Was that his cologne she smelled? Because it smelled like
Matt Parrish, she heard behind her, and saw that French-cuffed hand intercept Freds, sliding in dangerously close to her head.
Oh great, Rebecca muttered into her glass.
Matt startled Gunter so badly that he almost slumped right off his chair. Actually, the only one who did not seem surprised was Fred Davis. Nor did he seem particularly happy. He frowned, extracted his hand, and melted back into his seat next to Tom. Heather, however, lit up with a smile so sudden and blinding that Rebecca was tempted to get her shades out. Instead, she signaled the waitress for another glass of wine. Then she turned and looked at Matt just to make sure she wasnt a little tipsy and had imagined the whole thing.
Nope. That was him all right, looking too cool, the old cucumber in a suit routine, smiling that terribly charming, lopsided smile at Heather. Barf.
He shifted his charming lopsided smile from Heather to Rebecca, and damn it if she didnt see a little sparkle in his eye that made her belly flutter. Having a little campaign strategy meeting? he asked with a sly wink.
Rebecca rolled her eyes.
Matt! Tom boomed. Hey, what brings you here?
A client, Matt said, reaching across the table to shake Toms hand. Mind if I join you?
No! Tom cried happily, gesturing for him to get a chair. The more the merrier!
Thats. Just. Grrrreat, he said, smiling fiendishly at Rebecca. Then he disappeared to rind a chair.
Heather Frack took the opportunity to nudge Rebecca. Who? Who, who, who?
Him? Rebecca asked, jerking a thumb at Matts back.
Heather nodded. Even Gunter seemed to inch up a vertebra or two to hear the answer.
Matt Parrish. I think hes a junior lawyer somewhere.
Heather nodded again, anxiously awaiting more information, which Rebecca was not inclined to give until she put her eyes back in their sockets.
Thats pretty much it. Just one of those dime a dozen lawyers. Ah, what a shame Heather looked so disappointed.
Matt pulled a chair up to sit between Heather and Rebecca, which was, of course, the placement Gods gift to women would take. Rebecca spared him a glance, noticed the handsome man behind him and perked up a little. Now who would have thought Matt would have a friend? But there he was, standing behind Matts chair, just as handsome (okay, not quite as handsome), and decidedly less smug-looking.