that made him stop, suspecting that he had, in some inexplicable manner, gravely misspoken.
Boris coughed. Ned stared down at the table. “Gosh, well, a sweepstakes you say? I’m not sure that is exactly what we want,” Oliver said slowly. “Actually, it’s not even about wants, it’s really about needs, and our needs are entirely … well now, I am confused, what I actually both want and need at this moment is a drink. How about I get some whiskey for us?” With that, he jumped up and dashed out of the room.
As the curtain settled behind him, a silence fell over the table. Will felt awkward. Nobody said anything for a few minutes until, finally, Ned turned to Jake. “While we have a minute,” she said, “Boris tells me your doctor friend is looking for more help. I know the sorts he’s been working with, he can do better. Boris and I are both willing to sign on, but the doctor will have to pay.”
A sleepy-eyed Jake nodded. “I don’t know if I’d recommend working with the doctor, Ned. But if you want I’ll pass the word on.”
“Yes. Please do. With all these cuts, we could use the money.”
Will had no idea what they were talking about, but felt happy not to be the center of attention. At that moment, though, Jake looked over at him, seemingly wanting to shift the subject away from whatever Ned had brought up. “So, friend, what department in the agency do you work for, anyway?”
Will smiled, feeling unaccountably nervous. “I run some accounts for the agency here in town. Well, I help manage one of our European clients here. I used to do more but, you know”—he shrugged—“politics.”
“Clients?” said Jake. “Interesting. What sort of clients have you worked for?”
“Oh, I’ve worked for all sorts,” said Will. “I’ve done research and media work for automotive, pharmaceutical, hotels, soaps. Anyone who wants or needs advertising.”
Jake gave him a curious look. “Advertising? What do you mean, advertising?”
“Well, I’ve worked on all the kinds of accounts an advertising agency works on.”
“So, you work at an advertisin g agency?”
“Yes, of course, where else would I work?”
Nobody answered Will’s question. Jake sat looking stunned while Ned had a single snort of a laugh and Boris broke into a grin. This disturbed Will, especially when no one offered up an explanation as to what they found so entertaining. Except for Ned’s chortling, the table once again was quiet. They all sat there in what Will now found to be an exceedingly uncomfortable silence until the curtain was dramatically pulled back and Oliver returned to the room carrying two bottles of whiskey precariously topped with glasses. Seeing their expressions, he stopped. “Well, well, well, what did I miss?”
“Oliver, I’ve got some news of your friend here,” said Jake, pointing at Will. “He doesn’t work at the agency, he works in an advertising agency.”
“My gosh, really?” Oliver looked befuddled. “But I thought you said you worked with Bob Brandon at the agency?”
“No, I only, I only meant…” Suddenly understanding too much, and blushing with embarrassment, Will rose quickly from his chair. “I’m sorry, I probably need to go, you all have things to discuss and I … have an appointment. There seems to be a bit of a mix-up here anyway. I’m not sure I can help you. I actually only know Bob Brandon socially.” Will’s heart was racing, nobody was supposed to know the kind of work he did. This odd series of events had almost tricked him into betraying the very thing he was never supposed to disclose, a fact he had not told anyone the entire time he had been in the city. How stupid. He couldn’t believe he had even let on that he knew Brandon in the first place. How had that happened? He remembered his conversation with Oliver at the party, how easily and innocently Brandon’s name had slipped from his tongue, all because he was talking to another convivial American.
Boris coughed. Ned stared down at the table. “Gosh, well, a sweepstakes you say? I’m not sure that is exactly what we want,” Oliver said slowly. “Actually, it’s not even about wants, it’s really about needs, and our needs are entirely … well now, I am confused, what I actually both want and need at this moment is a drink. How about I get some whiskey for us?” With that, he jumped up and dashed out of the room.
As the curtain settled behind him, a silence fell over the table. Will felt awkward. Nobody said anything for a few minutes until, finally, Ned turned to Jake. “While we have a minute,” she said, “Boris tells me your doctor friend is looking for more help. I know the sorts he’s been working with, he can do better. Boris and I are both willing to sign on, but the doctor will have to pay.”
A sleepy-eyed Jake nodded. “I don’t know if I’d recommend working with the doctor, Ned. But if you want I’ll pass the word on.”
“Yes. Please do. With all these cuts, we could use the money.”
Will had no idea what they were talking about, but felt happy not to be the center of attention. At that moment, though, Jake looked over at him, seemingly wanting to shift the subject away from whatever Ned had brought up. “So, friend, what department in the agency do you work for, anyway?”
Will smiled, feeling unaccountably nervous. “I run some accounts for the agency here in town. Well, I help manage one of our European clients here. I used to do more but, you know”—he shrugged—“politics.”
“Clients?” said Jake. “Interesting. What sort of clients have you worked for?”
“Oh, I’ve worked for all sorts,” said Will. “I’ve done research and media work for automotive, pharmaceutical, hotels, soaps. Anyone who wants or needs advertising.”
Jake gave him a curious look. “Advertising? What do you mean, advertising?”
“Well, I’ve worked on all the kinds of accounts an advertising agency works on.”
“So, you work at an advertisin g agency?”
“Yes, of course, where else would I work?”
Nobody answered Will’s question. Jake sat looking stunned while Ned had a single snort of a laugh and Boris broke into a grin. This disturbed Will, especially when no one offered up an explanation as to what they found so entertaining. Except for Ned’s chortling, the table once again was quiet. They all sat there in what Will now found to be an exceedingly uncomfortable silence until the curtain was dramatically pulled back and Oliver returned to the room carrying two bottles of whiskey precariously topped with glasses. Seeing their expressions, he stopped. “Well, well, well, what did I miss?”
“Oliver, I’ve got some news of your friend here,” said Jake, pointing at Will. “He doesn’t work at the agency, he works in an advertising agency.”
“My gosh, really?” Oliver looked befuddled. “But I thought you said you worked with Bob Brandon at the agency?”
“No, I only, I only meant…” Suddenly understanding too much, and blushing with embarrassment, Will rose quickly from his chair. “I’m sorry, I probably need to go, you all have things to discuss and I … have an appointment. There seems to be a bit of a mix-up here anyway. I’m not sure I can help you. I actually only know Bob Brandon socially.” Will’s heart was racing, nobody was supposed to know the kind of work he did. This odd series of events had almost tricked him into betraying the very thing he was never supposed to disclose, a fact he had not told anyone the entire time he had been in the city. How stupid. He couldn’t believe he had even let on that he knew Brandon in the first place. How had that happened? He remembered his conversation with Oliver at the party, how easily and innocently Brandon’s name had slipped from his tongue, all because he was talking to another convivial American.
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