Read Online Tumblin' Dice by John McFetridge - Free Book Online Page A

long gone, he was surprised this woman was by herself. Now she was saying, “They asked five insurance companies to make bids, one right after the other all day long at their head office on Bay. I think Bay and Adelaide — I don’t know Toronto that well.”
    Loewen said, where you from?, and she said, “Winnipeg.” Before she’d said her name was Miriam and Loewen had thought it sounded like a grandmother name, but he didn’t say anything. “I’m actually from Brandon, just outside Brandon, really. Now it looks like head office is moving to Calgary. Better than Toronto, anyway.”
    â€œJust as expensive.”
    She said, yeah, “But not as dark, if you know what I mean.”
    Loewen didn’t but he didn’t say anything.
    She said, “So, we’re third on the list, going in right after lunch. I have my whole team with me, five of us.”
    Loewen said, “It takes five guys to sell an insurance policy?”
    â€œA group plan, thirteen thousand employees. And it’s not just insurance, it’s a drug plan, dental, corrective lenses, all kinds of disability.” Looking around the bar, she said, “Are you one of these Mounties?”
    â€œCity of Toronto cop.”
    She thought about it for a second, screwing up her face, and Loewen saw how if this Miriam ever stopped talking she might be a lot of fun in the sack, probably make a lot of noise, try anything, in a businesslike way. Maybe get her to keep her glasses on.
    â€œSo you’re with Grantham Life. It’s not a bad plan. We could do better. Anyway, they’d given us a list of twenty points they wanted to go over in the meeting, and we put together a presentation. Probably exactly the same as the other four companies in there.”
    Loewen said probably.
    â€œAnd each one of us on my team had four points that we’d completely researched and knew inside out, up and down, six ways from Sunday.”
    â€œRight.” Watching her tell her story, coming to the part where she was smarter than everybody else, Loewen was starting to see how she was an odd combination of old-fashioned country girl, with her grandmother name and grandmother expressions, and fully modern businesswoman sitting on a barstool in her short skirt, her tight silk blouse unbuttoned enough so he could see her frilly bra holding up her very nice tits, drinking her vodka tonic. He was starting to like her.
    â€œThen when we get into the meeting, this huge boardroom, it’s on, like, the fiftieth floor — what a view — there’s like twenty people we’re giving the presentation to. I make my opening remarks, but before I can get any further Jim Conacher stops me.”
    She was looking right at him, so Loewen knew Jim Conacher was important. He shrugged.
    â€œThe president of the bank? Of the biggest bank in the country?”
    Loewen said, okay, sure.
    â€œSo he says to me, he asks if maybe I could explain something in point number eight.”
    This Miriam was looking at him and Loewen was looking back, seeing her mascara was dried out a little, some of her lashes stuck together, and he figured she’d had a long day. Still, she seemed like she could just keep going. He said, “Yeah?”
    â€œWell, I said, sure, we can do that. We had the whole presentation up on the screen, ready to go over point by point, but the guy’s the president, right? So, I say to Dave Mikalchuck — it was his department — could he go over that point, and he says sure and stands up and explains it.”
    Loewen, still no idea what she was talking about, said, “Wow.”
    She stared at him serious and then laughed, turning on her barstool and finishing her drink, then saying, “You don’t get it, do you?” and Loewen said, no, I don’t, but he was smiling, too, and she said, “Conacher did it in every presentation, interrupted and asked to skip around. You