Syrup (14 page)

Sneaky Pete’s expression doesn’t change at all.

“Fine,” 6 says. “Watch me.”

She steps forward.

As she does, two strippers emerge from the gloom, carrying chairs. They set them down at the table, precisely opposite Sneaky Pete. And they just stand there.

I realize that not just the chairs are for me and 6.

6 stares at Sneaky Pete, her jaw a hard line, and I actually tense in case I need to prevent her from leaping across the table at him. Then she stalks forward and drops into a chair. I slide in beside her.

“Hi, I’m Candy,” one of the girls tells me, and the other says to 6, “Hi, I’m Sugar.” I look up at Candy and see that she is smiling brightly, displaying a good set of chompers. I try to avoid looking at her breasts, but they’re pretty much in my face and I fail within seconds. They are pointed with large relaxed nipples, and when Candy sees me looking, she gives them a happy little jiggle. “Can I sit on your lap?” she asks politely.

“Uh,” I say, but Candy interprets this as an affirmative and swings her legs over mine. It’s a fairly confrontational position, and I look across to 6 for support. But 6 is also being accosted, Sugar pushing her rear end into her lap.

Sugar hugs 6 tightly. “
I
like girls, too,” Sugar confides.

“Sneaky Pete,” 6 says slowly, dangerously, “I don’t want this girl on me.”

He regards her coolly from behind his mirrored shades. “Why not? As you have made perfectly clear to your colleagues at Coca-Cola ... you like girls, do you not?”

6’s jaw tightens. And I abruptly realize that there is nothing she can say.

OCCASIONALLY, JUST OCCASIONALLY, YOUR COMPANY WILL BE CAUGHT IN A LIE. THIS IS NOT GOOD. IF POSSIBLE, IMMEDIATELY FIRE SOMEONE EXPENDABLE AND PUBLICLY APOLOGIZE. IF NOT, YOU MUST STICK TO THE LIE. PERCEPTION IS REALITY.

At this moment, the phone rings.

Sneaky Pete taps a button. “Mr. Jamieson.”

“Hello?” His voice is distant and there’s muffled traffic in the background, so I guess he’s in his car. “Can you hear me?”

“Loud and clear,” Sneaky Pete says, and I actually see him smirk.

“Great. 6?”

“I’m here, Mr. Jamieson.”

“Me too,” I pipe up, because it would be embarrassing if Jamieson forgot about me.

“Good,” Jamieson says. “All right, let’s kick this thing off. I don’t have much time.”

Sneaky Pete folds his hands and rests them on the table.

The speaker says, “We’ve got a hell of a campaign here, guys. I don’t want you to think I’ve forgotten that. It’s great work.”

I can’t help myself. “Thanks,” I say, and I actually grin at Sneaky Pete. “You can count on us for ideas, Mr. Jamieson.”

“Yes, Scat. I think I can.”

Sneaky Pete says quietly, “But this isn’t about ideas.”

“That’s right,” Jamieson says. “This is about execution.”

I open my mouth to say
Oh, right,
then realize how stupid that will sound and just frown at the speaker. Candy toys annoyingly with my hair.

“I want this campaign to be driven by whoever will execute it best. It’s that simple. This isn’t about territory, or who came up with the idea. Do you understand that, Scat?”

“Yes,” I say thickly. “But I think—”

“Mr. Jamieson, I see where this is going,” 6 interrupts. Her voice is strong and steady, and it startles Sugar into a little jump. “I’m from New Products. I was moved from Fukk before I got involved in implementation. And Scat has no experience, either.”

Sugar reaches out to play with 6’s hair, and 6 slaps her hand away. The movement is so quick and controlled that my heart leaps: it means that while 6 may be shaken, she is far from beaten.

“But it would be a mistake, Mr. Jamieson, to get caught on that. If you wanted, we could spend all afternoon counting the days I spent in execution and the days he did.” She doesn’t need to say
Sneaky Pete.
“Maybe he has more—but that’s not the point. If you really wanted experience, you wouldn’t be talking to either of us. What you’re really after is energy. And a determination to get things done. And if I may say so, Mr. Jamieson, this
is
about ideas. You want someone who has enough creativity to find new ways to deliver an extraordinary campaign.”

A truck crackles past Jamieson, and he waits until it passes. “Yes, that’s partly true. I do want all that.”

Sneaky Pete says, “6, you are a very good speaker.” He pauses to grin at her, then continues. “May I say so? You present yourself very well. Better than me.” Again, he stops to grin, and this is really starting to irritate me. I grit my teeth and push Candy away, who is trying to blow into my ear. “In fact, if you will excuse me, I would suggest that you are ... more style than substance.”

Coming from Sneaky Pete, this is more than I can stomach. “Oh,
please.
Let’s talk about substance, huh? We developed Fukk. We developed the summer campaign. What have you done?”

Sneaky Pete says immediately, “Mr. Jamieson, I find this hostile attitude quite inappropriate.”

“Yes, Scat,” Jamieson says. “Let’s keep this professional. Sneaky Pete has been running Fukk for the past two months.”

The grin: wide and white. It says:
Thank you, Scat, for getting Jamieson to support me. Please keep it up.
I want to walk around the table and pop him.

“All I’m saying,” I say tightly, “is that Sneaky Pete does not have the same credibility as 6 and me.”

“Yes, credibility,” Sneaky Pete says. He says it so fast that I’m instantly sure I have fucked up. Big time fucked up. He’s been waiting for us to raise this, and now he’s pounced on it. “Let’s talk about credibility.”

I glance at 6, but her gaze is fixed on Sneaky Pete. I’m pretty sure she knows what’s coming next as well as I do.

“This new campaign: it is remarkable, yes. But I must ask what risk was taken to produce it.” He takes a long, slow breath. “It disturbs me to raise such matters ... but I have reason to believe that 6 and Scat almost failed to produce a summer campaign for Coca-Cola at all. I have reason to believe they allowed the schedule to slip so far behind that this company was in serious jeopardy had the new campaign
not
been developed.”

This is serious stuff, and I see eyes widen among the three SMT. No doubt each of these men has a major stock holding plus performance-based bonuses.

The speaker crackles into life again. Jamieson’s voice is strained. “What’s your justification for thinking that?”

Sneaky Pete sighs. “I didn’t want to mention this, Mr. Jamieson ... but 6 resigned from Coca-Cola last Friday, citing in her resignation her own mismanagement. The following Monday she withdrew her resignation and instead presented her new campaign.”

This time, his grin is all for 6.

6 doesn’t wait for Jamieson’s reaction. “This is what I expected, Mr. Jamieson.” She actually sounds a little bored, but her eyes are like fire. “Frankly, I’m a little disappointed.”

The speaker allows us to hear Jamieson kill the motor. I guess when you hear that one of your staff took a good shot at fucking up your company, it’s worth pulling over to hear more. “Explain.”

“What Sneaky Pete says is, of course, a mixture of half truths and fiction. I’m happy to give you a detailed brief on the summer campaign whenever you like. But that’s not the point.” She sounds so credible; I am truly impressed. “The point, Mr. Jamieson, is that we produced a campaign. We produced a campaign that was better than the one we were given. Let’s look at results.”

Sneaky Pete says, “No one is disputing the result. The issue is: Can we really trust you?” He is leaning closer, eager. “Are you tough enough to handle this campaign? Do you ...” The grin, gone as fast as it appears. “Do you have the
balls?”

I jump in. “Hey, let’s get back on track now. Look, if I could just have a minute, I’d like to go through a list of reasons why—”

Jamieson cuts me off. “I want to hear this. He’s right: I’ve got concerns about your ability to handle the pressure at the top, 6. So convince me. Can you handle this campaign?”

“I—” 6 starts, but Sugar reaches out and coyly strokes 6’s face. 6 pushes her away, furious, but for a second she is thrown. “Of course I do. I—”

Sneaky Pete cuts in. “And there is something else, Mr. Jamieson. It particularly distresses me to raise this.”

“What?” There is a tinge of fear in Jamieson’s voice, and that worries me a great deal. If Jamieson is scared, he will choose the safe bet.

“I don’t expect this to affect your decision in the slightest,” Sneaky Pete says carefully. “I want you to know that I consider this entirely separate.” I immediately think:
You don’t do business law for the fun of it.
“But I think you should be aware that 6 is pregnant.”

I stare at Sneaky Pete in shock, then start to turn toward 6. But I don’t make it. Sneaky Pete’s grin breaks out again, and I’m instantly positive that 6 is no more pregnant than I am. This is another tactic. A pregnant woman has about as much chance of being given control of a top project as a drunk; they’re viewed as equally reliable.

6 is so outraged she can barely speak. “I—am—”

Sneaky Pete says smoothly, “I’m sorry, that was irrelevant. Let’s not speak of it.”

“I am not pregnant!”
6 screams. Her voice silences everyone; even Jamieson sits quietly in his BMW for long moments.

“I’m sorry,” Sneaky Pete says. “That wasn’t very sensitive of me. 6, do you need a few moments?”

“Why?” she demands. “Because I’m
female?”

Sneaky Pete lets her words hang in the air for a few seconds, allowing Jamieson plenty of time to digest them. “That sort of outburst,” Sneaky Pete says sadly, “is precisely what I’m concerned about.”

6’s jaw works uselessly; she stares at Sneaky Pete with wide, outraged eyes.

“I like girls,
too,”
Sugar whispers, and I can’t believe her smile isn’t malicious.

6 falls. I see it happen. Her face dissolves, and she doesn’t hang her head fast enough for her hair to hide it. She pushes Sugar to one side and, before I can rise, flees from the room.

I break out of Ludus, blinking in the sudden sunlight, and spot 6 just as she slams the cab door. I sprint toward her, but the car peels away from the curb, leaving me staring at the back of 6’s head in its rear window. I watch until the traffic engulfs her.

“I love you,” I say quietly.

“I don’t know what you did to her,” the speaker tells me fiercely, “but it was enough, okay? You leave her alone.”

“Tina, you don’t understand. I’m on
her
side. She got screwed at Coke today, but I was trying to
help
her. You understand?”

The speaker doesn’t answer.

“Tina? Hello?”

Two hours later, the speaker clicks open again. “Are you still there, Scat?”

I struggle up from the sidewalk. “I have no home and you have all my clothes. Yes, I’m still here.”

Tina sighs. “Look, you can’t stay here. I’ll throw your stuff down from the window.”

“I know the drill,” I say wearily, and I head around to the side street to collect my possessions.

So, for the third time, I am homeless.

When I emerge from the pool, Cindy is by my side with a big fluffy white towel. “Nice workout,” she says admiringly. “Mind if I dry you off?”

“Knock yourself out,” I tell her generously. I stand with my arms and legs splayed while she gives me a thorough once-over. I can’t help but notice her particular attention to my groin. “Hey now, go easy on Mr. William.”

“Sorry, Scat,” she says coyly, applying a final squeeze.