Page 16 of Bite Me
“That you just find one who’s much better than anyone else, and then you only want that one flavor.”
“Has it happened to you?”
“Nah. But I’ve heard about it.”
“Well, if he comes by…”
“Give me your number. I’ll let him know you’re looking for him.”
“Thanks, man.”
He shrugged. “I thought you were one of the creeps, but you’re okay.”
I laughed. “Depends on how desperate I’ll get. I haven’t been getting much sleep.”
He straightened and patted the counter. “You’d better keep looking then.”
The wine soothed my throat. I licked my lips as I shook my head. “I need to put the search on pause. I’m starting a new job on Monday.”
“Ah. What are you doing? You look like a big deal. Finance? Or law?”
“I’m in public relations.”
“Fancy. Good luck, then.”
“Thanks.”
He pointed at the wine. “That’s on me. It’s my fault you lost the boy. What’s his name?”
“Eddie.”
“Eddie. Like I said. Wine’s on me.”
“Thank you.”
He gave me a friendly nod and moved to the other side of the bar, where a couple of young women waited to place their orders.
I finished my wine and went home, hoping to catch more than two hours of sleep. I always struggled to fall asleep during the night, but since I had a day job, I didn’t have a choice. I’d get used to it again after a few weeks.
* * *
On Monday, I paired my black shirt with a simple dark suit and headed to the business district.
The early morning sun burned all the colors off the streets, bathing the city in a sickly white glare. I wore my darkest shades, but even so, by the time I arrived at the Fowles & Tito headquarters, I had a headache. Thankfully, most of the windows at my new workplace faced northwest, which hadn’t been the most important reason I chose this agency over my other offers, but it had factored into my decision.
At half past eight, I sat facing the great Anthony Fowles across his sleek cedar desk. I signed the last couple of papers and got my key card and a spot in the garage if I chose to use it. My new, spacious office with a private bathroom was waiting for me two doors down from Anthony’s.
“We’re excited to have you on board, Russel.” Anthony’s voice conveyed about as much excitement as his clinically furnished headquarters, but I liked his no-nonsense approach. He had a reputation as an austere leader, which suited me just fine.
“Are you ready to meet the rest of the team? We’ve kept the deal under the lid, but since you’re here, there’s no need for secrecy anymore.”
“Thank you, Anthony. Let’s.”
I followed him through the hallway. Most other offices had glass walls and doors as if lower-rank management and the minions didn’t deserve any peace or privacy. The decor and furniture were practical, bordering on Spartan. Fowles & Tito specialized in PR crisis management and damage control, so their modest headquarters seemed on point.
Anthony paused in front of a conference room and gave me a quick, assessing look, his nearly white eyebrows knitted together. Then he walked in first, and the muted voices inside instantly quieted. I stood by his right, facing a cluster of the agency’s employees.
“Thank you all for coming. Let me introduce Russel Greenwood.”
