Coincidence?
It’s a warm but overcast day and I walk the last few blocks to Phillip’s building. MAD spills over two floors here in this midtown behemoth and I’m here so often that Marisol smiles her greeting as I lean over her desk.
“Chica!” she smirks.
“Chico,” I correct her.
“Chica!”
“Bitch.” I set down the Tropicana Coolata I always bribe her with.
“He’s not here.” She slurps the frozen sugar shit through the straw at a speed that would crack my skull with a brain freeze for the ages.
“Who?”
“Teri.” Slurp. Straw stir. “Off indefinitely again. He’s not all that happy about it.” And that, ladies and gentlemen, is why it pays to be nice to the lower echelon. She hands me my pass and says something about getting me a real one - I’m hoping we’re still on the pass thing here - and I head up to Phillip’s lair.
That weird twink is hovering, as usual, and I nod him off and laugh at Phillip’s scowl.
“Bitch, please.” I settle into one of his softer than buttah leather chairs and smile.
“Brian know you’re walking your wares?” Phillip laughs. I wriggle my ass against my seat.
“Um, since this is a private show, no?” Dylan brings us still water on a teak tray, does that elevator stare thing he always does with me and after Phillip’s perfunctory nod, leaves. “Teri would so have his ass. And he is where, by the way…?” I get away with a lot with Phillip. He still feels guilty about Dunraven but hell, it was my idiot idea. Teri would cheerfully kill both of us for it, as he’s mentioned several times.
“He’s spending some time with a previous employer. Catching up, I would imagine. How are things with Vartanian?” Well that was an obvious deflection. Make note of the sore spot and move on.
“You warned me about him. Tried to, at any rate. I remember. Thank you for that.”
“So?” He twists the lemon zest over his water and shrugs. “You’re a big boy.”
“Yeah, I am,” I reply. “But I have friends who care enough to look out for me.”
“Not always,” he mutters.
“When it matters, yeah, always.” He meets my gaze. Gets what I’m saying. Smiles. We’re done with that part of our history.
“So, you’re here because?” he asks. I shrug. “Can’t imagine Brian had a better offer for lunch,” he laughs.
“Well, hopefully he does, he’s got a big pitch going down as we speak. I’m hoping he’s going to ditch me in favor of a celebratory lunch.”
“His loss, my gain,” Phillip smiles. “Cat’s doing another photo shoot so I guess I’ll settle for second best.”
“Bitch,” I laugh. “Just for that, you buy.” Dylan magically reappears and we settle on spicy chicken empanadas and salads.
“So who’s he pitching?” Phillip asks once the orders are placed and Dylan has scurried off.
“Some old guy who wants his dick,” I snort. “Same ole, same ole.”
“Not as though you never catch anyone’s eye, Justin. ‘Don’t hate me because I’m beautiful,’” he simpers and we both laugh.
“Fuck off,” I finally manage to gasp out. “This guy is just as bad as the demon duo. Worse, he comes attached to a multimillion dollar account.
Brian’s worried, of course, but the pitch is brilliant. I just hope Greene thinks so, even without the benefit of Brian’s amazing dick.”
“I’m sure the presentation will go well. It’s at the jail, correct?” I nod. “Adam had called with a few questions about the work crews and a request for some graphics.”
“Brian wanted to show a vision in process. What better than a WPA era jail converting to our offices and home?” I do a quick recap of the ad and Phillip is laughing hard enough that he tears up at the thought of the Cyn and Ted show. “Hopefully David Greene will feel the same way you do,” I finish. “Birken would be a huge coup for Kinnetik.”
“David Greene? Birken? British?” Dylan arrives with lunch and once he finishes futzing around our conversation resumes.
“Yeah. I haven’t met him but Brian had a dinner meeting with him at Daniel. Said he was pretty aggressive, not at all shy about what he wanted, namely, Brian.”
“No, nothing shy about Greene at all. Keep an eye on him, Justin. The man isn’t fond of the word ‘no.’ Takes it as a personal challenge.”
“You know this because?”
“I did some work for him a few years back. Not my usual commission but in the end it was just easier to give the man what he wanted and get it over with.”
“What, you’re saying to just give in to him? Let him have Brian?”
“Oh, god no, Justin. I’m saying the man is relentless.” Phillip sighs. “Teri can’t bear him.”
Dylan sticks his head in. “Mr. Markham? Sorry to bother you but there’s a gentleman on the phone who insists on speaking with you. He said you’d take the call.”
“Dylan, who is it?” Phillip’s annoyed.
“A David Greene. He said you know him.”
Phillip and I look at each other. Coincidence? Maybe not.