Switched, Bothered and Bewildered (10 page)

"I suppose."

"Are you getting some rest there?" Jana Lee tried to change the subject
again,
because this subject led to their least favorite subject, which was what had happened in college. How Jillian had im-

personated her, lied to her, and seduced her fiance, then married him, then been dumped by him.

All leading full circle to their forgiving each other years later, but the subject of one sister having designs on a man the other sister wanted was still like walking naked into a cactus garden as far as Jana Lee was concerned. Her own pain around the subject was easily revived if poked.

"Your description of the afterschool gang should have included a self-defense lesson," Jillian said.

"Oh, they are a high-spirited bunch," Jana Lee replied.

"That's an understatement," Jillian said.

"You're just not used to kids, sis."

"Thank God for small favors."

Jana Lee was going to say something about how Jillian would make a great mom, but she paused just long enough for Oliver to stick his head in the door.

"Time to go," he called.

Jana Lee waved and nodded to him. "Oh, Jillian, I've got to go. I'll call later and catch Carly"

"I want daily updates, do you hear me?"

"I'm thinking that would be bad for your stress levels."

"I'm not talking about work, I'm talking about Jackson Hawks."

"That too. Bye, sis! Take care, take long baths, have some fun." Jana Lee hung up the phone before Jillian could reply, then she giggled. It wasn't

often she got the upper hand on her powerhouse sister, and it felt pretty darn good.

She opened the top drawer and got Jillian's Riot Red lipstick out, plus a tiny black leather-bound mirror. She lined her pale pink lips and filled in with the bright red. What a ghastly color. As soon as she was done she grabbed up her sister's briefcase, adjusted the buttons on her white silk blouse to cover a little more of her more-ample-than-Jillian's bust, wrapped the pashmina shawl around her shoulders and scurried toward the door. The flounce on her red floral skirt kicked in the breeze of her rush, and she felt giddy maneuvering in her sister's expensive red high heels. She was actually having fun for the first time in years.

Jana Lee's chances of remaining inconspicuous went out the window when
Jackson came over to her, pulled out her chair for her and whispered in her ear.

"You look beautiful. Did you get the flowers?" She glanced at Oliver as he sat down beside her. Ollie rolled his eyes and busied himself with the fancy leather binder he kept his legal pads in. Crisp white paper with black lines. He used a black pen at all times. Jana Lee wished she had that much order in her life.

"Yes, thanks," she hissed at
Jackson, trying to keep her voice sounding hoarse. "Now go away, you're bothering me."

Every pair of eyes on every person sitting at the long conference table was glued on her and Jackson. She slid into place and adjusted her skirt. She was aware that every movement she made was decidedly un-Jillian like.

She straightened up and tried to look tough, as
Jackson skip-hopped with his hands in his pockets down the length of the conference room, whistling some inane tune. The nerve of that guy.

He took his place at the head of the table, helped himself to the ice water positioned in front of him, set it down, and smiled at her;
directly
at her.

If she could have crawled under the table, she would have. Instead she gave him a glare and pretended to look at the folder full of papers in front of her. She opened it and studied the first sheet. It was pretty interesting, actually. There was a photo display of an advertisement Pitman had done to promote Byker Chikz.

It was easy to see why they hadn't done so well. These "girlz" were over the edge. They came with tattoo kits. She covered her mouth to stifle a laugh. What had they been thinking? Pinkie McGee and her Girl Gang of Motorcycle Mamas were tough street punks with spiked hair, studded leather outfits and questionable taste in makeup. Whoa. Just what every mom wants her little girl to play with.

"Good morning, people, I'm sure you all got my memo about the changes in the holiday line-up.

We're here today to listen to Development's ideas.
Dawson, what have you all come up with to replace the B.C. collection?"

Dawson, a nerdy-looking guy with a short sleeved shirt and wide tie, got up and went over to an easel. He almost knocked it over, and Jana Lee could tell he was extremely nervous. He steadied the stand and flipped over the first big page. There was an illustration with four figures on the top row, four figures on the bottom row.

Dawson
cleared his throat and took a pointer off the easel. "Of course these are preliminary, but we all know how big fantasy is now. We've got the Vampire series here on top, and the Slayers series on the bottom. These are based on a Buffy-like concept, but they are kids. There could be a book series developed around them, kind of a comic book thing, and a cartoon spin-off potential. We can use the anime team from
Japan for that.

"We could release the preliminary run of eight characters for the holiday with a sort of
Dark
Castle
thing going on, you know, and a Vampiremobile. Note No. 2 vampire, we call her Angelique"—his pointer thwapped the paper—"who switches back and forth from normal to vampire when you twist her head and push a back-located button. She's got retractable fangs and two outfits."

Dawson
heaved a huge sigh, and the three people at the table next to where he'd been sitting let out a matching sigh. That must be the creative

team. They looked vaguely goth-like, Jana Lee thought. No wonder.

A dead silence followed
Dawson's presentation.

Finally someone spoke. "Is there any more coffee?"

Several hands passed down a hot pot to the lone voice, and several cups were refilled. Jana Lee hadn't even touched hers, not being a coffee gal.

She thought she would have to go to the ladies' room to keep herself from either screaming or laughing out loud. She was new to this game, but this sounded like the dumbest idea ever. It might have some limited appeal, some dark, twisted, kids-that-should-be-in-therapy kind of appeal, but it sure as heck wouldn't boost the Pitman toy company's reputation
or
sales as far as she could see. But what did she know? She was only a mom.

"What else ya got,
Dawson?" This came from Jackson himself.

Dawson
stood silent for a few minutes, then flipped the large page again. A similar format faced them.

"Angels and Demons, bouncing off the whole Dan Brown thing. Top row, angelic beings armed and ready to do battle with the forces of darkness. Bottom row, demons." His pointer thwapped a few more times. "Demonmobile, several variations on weapons and powers, and the Dark Castle again. Think "Night on Bald Mountain" from
Fantasia."

Jana Lee reached for her coffee cup. It clattered

against the saucer. She focused on the sugar and cream at their end of the table and doctored up her coffee, stirring the spoon noisily. Oliver looked at her. She could tell he had lots to say. What was the deal around here, anyway, didn't anyone have the guts to send these people back to the drawing board? She sipped her coffee, cleared her throat and set it back down. The throat drama addition was just to make Ollie happy.

Back when she was a kid, Pitman made the coolest board games, adventure sets and some truly classic old-style toys like colorful wooden dollhouses with little tiny families and playing house kinds of toys: little vacuums and brooms and pots and pans. But she guessed being domestic wasn't hip these days.

And what about stuff like . . . clay? And dress-up, and dolls that just did nothing but be your best friend? Carly's favorite toy for one entire year when she was about seven was a set of mini-cars. She'd made road ramps all over the backyard when Bill was building their deck. That, and her set of My Pretty Pony horses, which seemed to breed and multiply until they took up an entire wall of her room. Bill had made a special shelf with little cubbies just for those ponies.

Bill. The shock of her memories made her close her eyes. She'd gone so many days without hitting the pain. She put her hand to her forehead and rubbed her old images away.

When she looked up, everyone was looking at her again. Jana Lee glanced at Ollie. Obviously they all expected her sister to do the dirty work around here.

"Miss Tompkins is a bit indisposed today," Oliver said. "Laryngitis."

Jana Lee smiled and clutched her throat, nodding in agreement.

A collective rumbling murmur went through the room. Jana Lee figured they were figuratively drawing straws to see who would tell
Dawson the creative department had gone over the cuckoo's nest.

Jackson
's voice came from the end of the room. "Anything else,
Dawson?"

"That's about it at present, sir."

Jackson
slapped the folder he'd been holding down on the table hard enough to make Jana Lee and everyone else jump.
Dawson backed up against the padded wall.

"What have you guys been smoking up there in Creative? I mean what, are you
high?
Seriously. Vampires? I can see it, but I think we're breaking a long-standing tradition at Pitman when we embrace the dark side. Snotz was bad enough in my opinion, even though they sold well, and I believe the problem with the B.C. line was its rather unsavory presentation. Don't you,
Dawson?

"Can we get our heads out of the gutter for a moment? Or at least out of the blood-sucking

realm? Do you think Disney made millions on evil? I'm thinking this is the year for comforting toys. For warmth and love, and all that sort of drivel. Do you think your crew can deal with that?"

Jana Lee felt genuine pity for
Dawson. The rest of the Goth-like team looked devastated as well. Geez, business was nasty.
Jackson
was nasty. But she had to admit she'd thought the same thing. He might have put it a little more tactfully, though. Wasn't that supposed to be the executive thing to do? Diplomacy?

"Ahem, if I may," Oliver stood up. "Miss Tompkins and I discussed this earlier, and we'd like to refer to the cost analysis reference guide just past page seven of your materials. It's the stapled item."

People shuffled papers. Jana Lee drank more coffee. Even with three lumps of sugar and some cream, this stuff was bad. Everything about this meeting was going down badly.

"As you can see, this isn't the first time the vampire series has been considered. Please note the figures on the transforming retractable teeth mechanism, and the total unit cost figure. We're not seeing this item as below $14.99 retail, which, if you consider the economy and spending trends for this period in time, is a bit steep. And thank you to
Dawson for giving us the preliminary sketches so we could patch together this itemized

speculation on short notice." Oliver tapped his pencil decisively on the desk and reseated himself. People clapped.

"Thank you, Oliver, Miss Tompkins. As usual, you've both brought order to our meeting. Mr. Dawson, I apologize for my outburst. I'm feeling particularly burned out on the hard edges of life. Now go back to the drawing board and come up with something cute, and I mean
cute,
damn it. We'll meet again tomorrow. I'd like to see preliminaries on the four main executive's desks by three o'clock. That will give everyone a chance to crunch numbers and play with promotional concepts. Looks like we're going to be working late, folks."

The big groan went out, but when Jana Lee looked up at
Jackson, he had a big grin on instead, and it was aimed at her. He looked as if he was going to corner her; there was no doubt about that.
Jackson was on the pursuit.

Well, good, because she had a few things to say to him. Just because he was VP didn't mean he had to be such a bully! Poor
Dawson was huddled with his black-haired, purple-swathed cohorts, no doubt ready to quit.

The rest of the folks got out of there quickly, and then
Jackson started to stroll in her direction.

"Oh Mr. Hawks, can we have a word with you?"

"Why sure,
Dawson. I know you and the crew worked hard, but what can I say? Unit numbers don't lie."
Jackson leaned against the conference

table casually, next to the four horsemen of the apocalyptic creative team.

"We quit."

"What's that?"

"You heard us, we quit. We all feel that our creative differences are too vast to overcome. Pitman obviously has a limited growth potential in its toy development, and frankly we're tired of being the brunt of it all. Obviously if Marketing did its job, and if we'd outsource some production, we'd be able to expand into the more lucrative areas of action figures and fantasy realm items."