Chapter 14

He stopped off at his hotel and shaved and showered and got into fresh clothes. He should have been exhausted, he knew, but he wasn't. He felt fine. Then he began to think about the early part of the evening, about meeting Kay first in her office and starting to talk business, and he recalled that, after the Drake, she hadn't once mentioned his agency or his job or her company and her job; and he started to fret. You could never tell about women. Maybe all he was to her was a great evening's roll on the hay.

It was after ten o'clock when he got to the office. On his desk was a note from Wycliffe.

"Please see me as soon as you get in. Sam."

Oh, balls, he thought I'm going to get chewed out for being late.

But when he walked through the door into the office, Wycliffe stood up and extended his hand. Dingman brushed past him and left. There was a stricken look on his face, as if he were ready to cry. He always looked as if he were about to cry, Paul thought. He ought to get into a different line of work.

"Congratulations," Wycliffe said.

He shook Wycliffe's hand, wondering.

"Kay Lennen called around three-thirty," Wycliffe said.

Paul dropped his hand. Oh, Christ, that was the end of his job. One week. Fired, just like from school. The handshake was all sarcasm on the part of Wycliffe, the son of a bitch. He didn't say anything. What was there to say?

"We're keeping the Huggable account Kay Lennen's ready to sign up for another year. Providing."

"Providing what?"

"Providing that you're the senior account executive."

"I'll be a son of a bitch," Paid said.

"No. You'll be the senior account executive on Huggable. At triple your starting salary. Effective immediately. And you'd move into Dingman's office. We're moving him down the had."

"What else happens to him, besides moving?"

"He's off Huggable, of course. He has two other accounts, and we're giving him another small one to handle."

"Which one?"

"Dr. Ayne's T-W."

"That's that patent remedy for rectal itch." These guys had no mercy in their souls.

"Perfect account for him," Wycliffe said. "He's had his thumb up his ass all his life."

"I don't know what to say," Paul said.

"Don't say anything. Bob Gelder will be in here in a minute and he'd have a lot to say. He may start blubbering. He looked at Paul sideways. I'd say you made quite an impression Kay Lennen."

"Must have," Paul said. He did not meet Wycliffe's eyes.

"You son of a bitch," Wycliffe said slowly, emphasizing each word, as if savoring the phrase. Paul looked at him quickly. He was smiling warmly. He put a hand on Paul's shoulder.

Paul began to remember his first interview with Wycliffe. "How tall are you?" he had asked. "Good shoulders. Hell of a good-looking guy." Paul could almost hear the words.

Wycliffe, he thought And he'd had him pegged for a simple sort of jackass.

Bob Gelder came into the office, beaming, his silver hair shining, and pumped Paul's hand.

"We knew you could carry the ball for us," he said, "but nobody expected you to score the winning touchdown your first week. But then, nobody expected this week to be the last minute of the last quarter, either."

"He scored, all right," Wycliffe said.

Paul looked at him. The big man looked out the window.

"You ought to have an apartment in town, with this new job," Gelder said.

I've got one," Paul told him. "I move in Saturday." With Karen helping him push furniture. He wished he could be with Karen right now, tell her all about it Mostly all about it.

"We'll foot the bill for a better one," Bob Gelder said. The agency owes you a lot. You might as well know it you've probably saved a four million dollar account, single-handed."

Single-handed, Paul thought. That was a nice way to put it.

"I don't think you'll be moving into your place on Saturday, Paul, anyway," Wycliffe said. "I forgot to tell you, Kay Lennen wants you to come out to her place in Westport for the weekend. Discuss the new campaign. She asked me to ask you to cad her."

"I've got a date this weekend."

I'm afraid you'll have to break it. It wouldn't be wise to cross Kay Lennen now."

"I suppose so," Paul said, resigned. What the hell was he going to tell Karen? And where, in the months ahead, was he going to get the strength to keep his job, taking care of Kay?

"You'll break your date, and make it out to Westport?" Wycliffe asked.

"Yes. I don't want to, but I will."

"Good. I know it's tough, but he who lives by the sword...." His voice traded away.

"What?" Paul said.

"Nothing," Wycliffe said. "Just remember, you're rowing stroke oar, now."

Paul didn't like the way he used the word "oar."

"I thought I was supposed to be carrying the ball," he said.

"Have it your way," Wycliffe said. "But I'm calling the signals."

"You sure are, Sam," Paul said.