Chapter 12
"Carlson ... you've been doing a damned fine job, damned fine job." Loren twirled the Havana cigar plugged between his beefy lips and leaned back in his leather chair. "I've been thinking, son ... things been okay with you and the little woman since those damned fools stole off with her?"
Bob shrugged his shoulders, reluctant to discuss his married life with Loren whose solution for the age-old male-female incompatibility dilemma was a stiff drink and a pretty lady. "Okay, I guess." Truth was, the sex was hot, but again Bob's absence was bringing a holocaust of emotion on his head and outrageous doctor bills.
Loren pressed his pudgy fingertips together. "We've been needing another buyer for the women's wear department. Christ, that old Agnes is still buying mini-skirts. We need somebody with vim and vigor ... somebody who knows what's going on in the fashion world." He cut an hour glass figure in the air and winked at Bob. "You get what I'm saying?"
Bob smiled crookedly. If he's trying to set me up with a female buyer ... oh Jesus, Jill will never go for that!
"I was thinking about Jill...." Loren's eyebrows arched and Bob perked up. "It's going to be a busy season ... Paris, London, Rome ... not to mention LA and New York. Think the little woman'd be interested?"
Bob was elated. He stood up, beaming. "Let me shake your hand, Loren. You're a man who understands women!"
"Yeah," winked Loren. "I do...."