I was holding my phone away from my ear. My boss was off on one of his supreme lectures, making me wonder for the thousandth time if my apparent listening was part of the reason he hired me.
"You hear me?" James Cort asked.
I did not have to utter a full word, just a hum and he launched into part three of what I suspected was going to be at least a five part series. I punched a few cards on the video poker screen and paced away while imaginary money racked up.
"Are you really this lucky?" Fenton asked from behind me. He sauntered up and leaned against the end machine, watching my winnings calculate.
"I'm not sure you'd call this lucky," I held out the phone so he could hear my boss' chatter.
"Well, a lot of women would think you're lucky right about now," Fenton said. He nodded to one particularly catty looking woman with long black hair.
"Just because you're talking to me?" I asked. "James, Fenton is here. Yes, I call him by his first name. Right. No. Don't be gross." I hung up my phone and punched a few more cards on the video poker screen.
"Because you seem to be the only woman I'm interested in talking to," Fenton said. "Was that your boss you just hung up on?"
"Yes." I watched his smirk wobble a bit and I wondered if he had been drinking. "He told me to make you happy and get you signed."
He pushed off the video poker screen and leaned towards me. "I'd be happy to see that little black dress again," he said.
I glanced down at my silk blouse and jeans. "I've seen people gambling in worse. You're lucky I'm not wearing sweatpants and a fleece vest."
"Or that tight little tank top you wore on our hike. You sore from the Overlook Trail?" he asked.
I stepped back as he leaned closer. "Yes, I am a little sore, but nothing I can't handle. In fact, I was thinking I should join you again tomorrow. That's the best cure for sore muscles."
"I know a better one." Fenton’s laser blue eyes narrowed as his smile widened.
"Well, I can guess it’s not sitting on a stool playing video poker," I said. I punched out of the game and a slew of coins poured into the metal slot.
Fenton shook his head at my luck again. "Sign us up for a couple's massage. Don't you have an expense account or something? Call your boss and ask for his credit card number."
I raked the coins into a plastic cup. All the other agents I knew would do what Fenton said in an instant. And, it was not that I was not tempted. The idea of a couple's massage with him next to me was very tempting, indeed. My boss would be annoyed that he had not thought of it first. I could hear him rattling off his credit card number in his perpetually yelling tone.
"You're thinking about it, aren't you?" Fenton said. "You never know, it might make me want vitamin supplements even more."
I shook my head. "No. I've never landed an account that way before. Besides, you are just trying to take advantage of me. What kind of agent would I be if I just threw money away on my client's whims? I'm suppose to be proving to you that I have your best interests in mind."
Fenton laughed, and my stomach quivered. "Well, if you won't treat me to a couple's massage, what kind of schmoozing do you have in mind? I hear there's a great nightclub here if you feel like taking me dancing."
"What have other endorsement agents offered you?" I asked.
"Well, let's see. One just gave me and two friends an open tab for dinner," he said.
"Would that explain the hint of intoxication?"
He stuck his nose in the air. "Yes. Jealous?"
"Not impressed," I said. "What other sort of perks have you gotten?"
"A car lease, a timeshare vacation, a purebred dog, a leather sofa. None of which I accepted."
"What kind of dog?" I asked. I took my coins to the exchange and got a surprising wad of cash.
"A pitbull. Sweet puppy," he said.
"Hmm, I see you as more of a Rottweiler type," I told him.
Fenton nudged me. "Really? I thought you would have noticed that I’m more the kitten type."