enthusiastic. “I wish—”
But I never found out what she wished, because she broke out in a fit of furious coughing. “My God!” she gasped. “What’s that stuff?”
“That’s good old New York City air you’re breathing!” I told her. “You’ve been away too long—you’ve forgotten what it’s like!”
“At least they could filter it,” she complained. Well, of course it was filtered, but I didn’t bother to correct her. I was too busy getting our stuff out of the overhead racks and lining up to disembark.
It was seven A.M. , local time. There weren’t too many people in the terminal yet, which was a plus, but the minus that balanced that in the equation was the lack of baggage handlers. Mitzi trailed sulkily after me to the baggage claim, and there I got a surprise. The surprise’s name was Valentine Dambois, Senior Vice-President and Associate General Manager, pink cheeks, twinkly blue eyes, plump figure jiggling as he hurried across to greet us.
I told myself that I shouldn’t have been surprised—I’d done a good job on Venus, and I’d never doubted that the Agency would treat me kindly when I got back. But not this kindly! You didn’t get a star-class executive to welcome you home at that hour of the morning unless you were really special. So, full of cheer and great hopes, I stuck out my hand to him. “Great to see you, Val,” I began—
And he went right past me. Right to Mitzi. Val Dambois was a tubby little man, and the fattest thing about him was his face; when he smiled he looked like a Halloween pumpkin. The smile he gave Mitzi was like a pumpkin on the verge of splitting in two. “Mitzi-wits!” he yelled, though he was only two feet away from her and closing fast. “Missed you, sweety-bumps!” He flung his arms around her and stood on tiptoe to give her a big kiss.
She didn’t kiss back. She pulled her head back so the kiss only got as far as her chin. “Hello,” she said—“Val.”
His face fell. For a minute I thought Mitzi had blown every chance of promotion she ever had, but Dambois did a great reconstruction job on his smile. By the time he put it back on his face it was as good as new, and he patted her rump affectionately—but hastily. He stepped back, chuckling. “You sure made yourself a killing,” he said warmly. “I take my hat off to you, Mits!”
I didn’t know what he was talking about, of course. For a minute I didn’t think Mitzi did, either, because a swift shadow clouded her eyes and her jaw tensed, but Dambois was already looking at me. “Missed the boat, I guess,” he said good-naturedly—rueful good nature, that was, with just a slight shading of contempt.
Now, I wasn’t too surprised by the way Dambois greeted Mitzi. There were little bits of gossip here and there about Mitzi and one or two star-level agency executives, Val Dambois included. It meant nothing to me. Hell, it’s a rough course you have to run if you want to get ahead in the advertising business. If you can help yourself along by giving a little joy to the right parties, why not? But she hadn’t said anything to me about a killing. “What are you talking about, Val?” I demanded.
“She didn’t tell you?” He pursed his plump little lips, grinning. “Her damage suit against the tram company. They settled out of court— six megabucks and change—it’s all waiting for her right now in the Agency bank!”
I had to try twice to say it. “Six—Six mill—”
“Six million dollars tax-free and spendable, right on!” he gloated. The man was as pleased as though the money had been his own— maybe he had some idea of making it so. I cleared my throat.
“About this damage suit—” I began, but Mitzi leaned past me to point.
“There, that one’s mine,” she said as the bags began to come off the conveyor. Val leaped forward and, puffing, swung it off and set it beside her.
“What I mean—” I began. Nobody was listening.
Dambois said jovially, slipping
But I never found out what she wished, because she broke out in a fit of furious coughing. “My God!” she gasped. “What’s that stuff?”
“That’s good old New York City air you’re breathing!” I told her. “You’ve been away too long—you’ve forgotten what it’s like!”
“At least they could filter it,” she complained. Well, of course it was filtered, but I didn’t bother to correct her. I was too busy getting our stuff out of the overhead racks and lining up to disembark.
It was seven A.M. , local time. There weren’t too many people in the terminal yet, which was a plus, but the minus that balanced that in the equation was the lack of baggage handlers. Mitzi trailed sulkily after me to the baggage claim, and there I got a surprise. The surprise’s name was Valentine Dambois, Senior Vice-President and Associate General Manager, pink cheeks, twinkly blue eyes, plump figure jiggling as he hurried across to greet us.
I told myself that I shouldn’t have been surprised—I’d done a good job on Venus, and I’d never doubted that the Agency would treat me kindly when I got back. But not this kindly! You didn’t get a star-class executive to welcome you home at that hour of the morning unless you were really special. So, full of cheer and great hopes, I stuck out my hand to him. “Great to see you, Val,” I began—
And he went right past me. Right to Mitzi. Val Dambois was a tubby little man, and the fattest thing about him was his face; when he smiled he looked like a Halloween pumpkin. The smile he gave Mitzi was like a pumpkin on the verge of splitting in two. “Mitzi-wits!” he yelled, though he was only two feet away from her and closing fast. “Missed you, sweety-bumps!” He flung his arms around her and stood on tiptoe to give her a big kiss.
She didn’t kiss back. She pulled her head back so the kiss only got as far as her chin. “Hello,” she said—“Val.”
His face fell. For a minute I thought Mitzi had blown every chance of promotion she ever had, but Dambois did a great reconstruction job on his smile. By the time he put it back on his face it was as good as new, and he patted her rump affectionately—but hastily. He stepped back, chuckling. “You sure made yourself a killing,” he said warmly. “I take my hat off to you, Mits!”
I didn’t know what he was talking about, of course. For a minute I didn’t think Mitzi did, either, because a swift shadow clouded her eyes and her jaw tensed, but Dambois was already looking at me. “Missed the boat, I guess,” he said good-naturedly—rueful good nature, that was, with just a slight shading of contempt.
Now, I wasn’t too surprised by the way Dambois greeted Mitzi. There were little bits of gossip here and there about Mitzi and one or two star-level agency executives, Val Dambois included. It meant nothing to me. Hell, it’s a rough course you have to run if you want to get ahead in the advertising business. If you can help yourself along by giving a little joy to the right parties, why not? But she hadn’t said anything to me about a killing. “What are you talking about, Val?” I demanded.
“She didn’t tell you?” He pursed his plump little lips, grinning. “Her damage suit against the tram company. They settled out of court— six megabucks and change—it’s all waiting for her right now in the Agency bank!”
I had to try twice to say it. “Six—Six mill—”
“Six million dollars tax-free and spendable, right on!” he gloated. The man was as pleased as though the money had been his own— maybe he had some idea of making it so. I cleared my throat.
“About this damage suit—” I began, but Mitzi leaned past me to point.
“There, that one’s mine,” she said as the bags began to come off the conveyor. Val leaped forward and, puffing, swung it off and set it beside her.
“What I mean—” I began. Nobody was listening.
Dambois said jovially, slipping
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