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Playtime's Consequences
11c. End Celebration (part 2)

11c. End Celebration (part 2)

The weather on the night of the formal party was clear; only a gentle wind blew. The glass walls of the convention center shone brightly, casting a warm glow on the surrounding streets. Inside the giant ballroom was the pleasant din of clinking glasses and polite small talk. Robo-butlers wheeled slowly between partygoers, offering snacks, taking drink orders, and spiriting away dirty dishes.

Dwight and Gary stood by themselves, out of the way. “I hope we’re not the only ones to show up,” Dwight fretted. “They promised.”

“Hey, guys!” They heard the familiar voice of Stacy as she approached, a tall gentleman on her arm. “Aiden, this is Dwight and Gary. And vice versa.”

“It’s an honor to meet both of you,” Aiden greeted solemnly. “Congratulations are in order.”

“Thank you.” Gary turned to Stacy. “I think this is the first time I’ve ever seen you in a dress.”

“I own at least one,” she offered. “I almost rented one. But I thought I could get away with this.”

“And yet, somehow, I can still see an anime logo,” Dwight joked.

“Oh…because there is one. I’m wearing a t-shirt underneath.”

Gary clicked his tongue. “Classic Stacy.”

“I knew it’d be too cold in here tonight,” she explained. “Why must the thermostat always be set to ‘freeze all women to death’?”

“I think it’s for the guys who are forced to wear jackets,” Dwight offered. “We’re cooking in these monkey suits!”

Irwin strode up. “Thank goodness I found you,” he opened. “People have been looking at me funny.”

Stacy looked him up and down. “Irwin, that’s a tuxedo.”

“So?” Irwin defended. “Isn’t that what black-tie means?”

“Maybe in Las Vegas,” Gary joked.

Irwin hung his head. “Nobody tells me anything.”

“Don’t listen to them,” Aiden assured after introducing himself. “I think you look smashing.”

“Thanks!” Irwin peered closely at Aiden’s suit. “What color is that? Vermilion?”

“Close — it’s scarlet,” Aiden corrected. “More appropriate for evening wear.”

“Well, Stacy,” Dwight observed, “either you’ve been holding out on us, or you two clean up good.”

“A little of both,” Stacy remarked coyly.

“Hey, there’s my team!” Sam announced as he arrived with his wife, Angela. “Finally, some people I can stand.”

“Yeah, we’re trying to form an island of sanity in this corner,” Irwin quipped.

Angela looked uncomfortably at the robot-butlers. “Are they…?”

“All their neural material is synthetic,” Sam pledged. “They’ve never shown any signs of pain.”

“That’s a relief.” Angie continued to look unsettled.

“So you don’t have any of these in your—” Stacy began.

“I don’t want to talk about it tonight,” Angie interrupted. “Let’s just try to get through this evening.”

“Works for me,” Stacy agreed. “I’m counting moments until I can bug out of here.”

“Is that who I think it is?” Sam suddenly interjected. They all turned to look.

Isabel walked towards them with a poise worthy of a professional model. Resplendent in a dark-pink cocktail dress, its hemline above the knee, her high heels showed off a degree of femininity they’d never seen in her before. The men continued to look stunned until Angela gently elbowed Sam.

“Wow, Isabel,” Irwin stammered. “You look lovely tonight.”

“My mother made me go to finishing school,” Isabel shrugged. “I guess it comes in handy every once in a while.”

“What color is that dress?” Dwight asked. “Pink? Rose?”

“It’s amaranth,” Aiden corrected. “Very dignified.”

“I’ve always had to dress down at work,” Isabel huffed. “Otherwise, no one will take me seriously.”

“It’s a common problem,” Stacy agreed.

“Well, I’m glad you made the extra effort,” Sam concurred. “We have to appear on stage tonight, if only just briefly.”

Stacy turned to Aiden. “Hon, can you excuse me for a moment? I’ll be right back.”

“Of course, milady.” Their eyes remained locked on each other until their hands finally parted. Aiden watched her leave.

Sam turned to Aiden. “I have to say, you’re not what we expected.”

“She’s a welcome break from what I’m used to,” Aiden replied cryptically. “I like how she’s so down to Earth.”

“Her? Really?” Irwin shook his head. “She really has been holding out on us.”

“You’d understand if you met my relatives,” Aiden explained. “Believe it or not, I’m the most normal one. I’m like the white sheep of the family.”

Without notice, the lights dimmed, and a projection screen near the back of the hall lit up. People stopped talking amongst each other and turned to look. The screen showed the Unlimited Partners logo, as a low, dignified crescendo of classical instruments started to build.

“Oh heck, we have to get on stage,” Sam announced. “May as well get this over with.”

The video shifted to aerial panoramic views of decayed cities. A narrator spoke in deep, elegant tones: “It’s no secret that these are troubled times.” The video switched between street protests, looting, and violence against civilians by dark-masked irregular forces. The narrator continued. “Many wondered what has happened to our once proud nation.” A moving collage of news headlines described skyrocketing crime, plummeting employment, and loss of faith in the future.

The narrator continued. “But average citizens started to take action; they believed their fate was in their hands.” A news headline announced a small town transforming into the largest gated community at the time, as a time-lapse photo showed the downtown area getting refurbished. Another headline, announcing an apartment complex with a new code of behavior, was superimposed on a video of a crowd cheering, and a time-lapse photo of the same apartment complex transforming from an eyesore into a paragon.

“Then one day, a leading nationwide property-management firm pivoted to the challenge of managing an entire city. And thus began the absolution of urban decay!” As a time-lapse photo showed a slum of skyscrapers changing from gray edifices to gleaming towers of clean glass, a montage of repair activity played. Swarms of cats hunted rodents and pigeons. Construction bots retrofitted dilapidated urban centers. Cylindrical machines moved through pipes, scraping away debris and laying down a thick veneer of new material. Before/after pictures showed distressed, destitute citizens looking healthy and successful. A dark, decayed neighborhood transformed into fixed-up houses with “sold” signs, as the streetlights flared back to life.

“But this was nothing compared to what happened next.” As bright, energetic anime music played, a dramatic montage of the mecha battling the hijacked plane flooded the screen. The crowd went wild, their noise almost drowning out the music. Complimentary headlines raced across the screen, along with quotes from prominent citizens extolling the new era mankind had, in their opinion, moved into.

Finally, this faded to an amateur video of the mecha lifting away from the truck stop, saluting in mid-air. “Yes!” Dwight exulted. “I knew that was a money shot!”

The video faded to a slowly-retreating still shot of the entry to the Unlimited Partners headquarters, the company logo displayed prominently on the front of the building, finally revealing the two mechas standing on pedestals.

“Is that the ‘Bill and Ted’ pose?” asked Gary.

“Oh, no,” Stacy pined, covering her face. “They didn’t.” She peeked through her hand. “They did.” Aiden smiled at her comfortingly, lightly embracing her around the shoulders.

The narrator spoke one last time. “Welcome…to our bright future!” The crowd went wild again as the video faded to a still image of the Unlimited Partners logo, in front of a computer-generated image of a gleaming, clean, orderly city.

As the applause died down, the screen showed the profile photo of Carl Beaumont, the Chairman of the Board, as he approached the podium. “Thank you all so much for being here tonight. I think we can all agree, Unlimited Partners has finally come of age.” More applause. Carl looked to his right. “I remember when a brash young executive first proposed this idea. And I have to admit, I thought he was mad.” Scattered laughter. “I also must admit…even though his plan showed us a credible path to profit, half the reason I approved it was just to shut him up.” The crowd roared with laughter. Eric Thompson, just off stage, joined the merriment, covering his face in mock embarrassment as his peers playfully punched him on the shoulder.

Carl continued. “This project could have gone so many different ways. But fortunately, we had the right person for the job, at the right time. And he deserves a lot of the credit for what we’ve accomplished.” Spirited applause, with several congratulatory shouts. “Eric Thompson, come on up and say a few words!” Uptempo music joined with dancing spotlights as Eric strode onto the stage, all smiles. He and Carl shook hands, then shared a fraternal hug, before Carl left the stage and Eric assumed his place behind the podium.

His wide eyes gleamed as he beheld the crowd. “Wow, what can I say? It’s been a whirlwind!” Scattered laughter and applause. “The plan that became Unlimited Partners started in my teenage years, in the mind of a boy that couldn’t bring himself to follow the rules if he thought they were terrible.” A sudden concurring exclamation from a man in the audience caused Eric to pause. He turned to point in its general direction. “Yes!” Polite laughter. Eric turned to look off stage, to address an imaginary lackey. “Get that guy a special test.” More jovial laughter.

“I can’t count how many times I was told my ideas would never work in the real world. Self-styled experts, that claimed to know more about human nature than me, insisted that people needed a heavy hand, and strict boundaries, or they would simply run amok. But I believed a light touch, and appeal to reason, would work with decent people. And I also believed that most people were decent.” Light applause slowly escalated into vigorous cheering, eventually returning to quiet.

“I’m grateful I finally had the chance to try a plan I’ve labored on for decades. But I couldn’t have done it without all of you! All I could do was build the teams that painted the broad swaths. Then they had to build the teams to brush in the finer details. There were so many ways this could have gone wrong. But I had faith in the decency of the average person, if they could just be given a chance to be decent, instead of overworked and disempowered.” He surveyed the crowd in the spacious ballroom. “And all of you have proven to me, and to the world, that you deserved to be given that chance!” Heartfelt applause and cheering continued for several seconds before finally quieting down.

“So before we return to the celebration, I want you to meet the people that pushed this victory over the edge.” The members of 16otaku quickly strode onto stage, coming to a stop behind Eric. “Giant flying robots don’t just invent themselves! That takes people, and talent, and a total disregard for respectable wisdom.”

He turned to motion toward the new arrivals. “And these people have enough of that to spare! Give them a hand!”

The applause and cheering quickly rose to a near-deafening volume. The members of 16otaku waved shyly, but Isabel stopped that to put her hands over her ears.

As the applause settled down, Eric addressed them. “Would any of you like to say a few words?” No one volunteered. Eric turned back to the crowd and smiled. “That’s OK; not everyone has to be good with people.” The crowd cheered politely as 16otaku quickly walked off the stage.

“But hey, enough presentations, right? We came here to celebrate! So let’s do that.” He looked at his phone briefly. “Yep, right around three minutes. If I’d talked any longer, I would have gotten bored.” Widespread laughter. “Good night!” The applause swelled as Eric left the stage, the dancing spotlights coming back to life.

Eric found the members of 16otaku at the side of the stage, Aiden hovering near Stacy. “You did great, gang!” he exulted.

Sam looked indignant. “Eric! You promised we wouldn’t have to say anything!”

“And you didn’t!” Eric defended.

“Then why did you ask us to?” Dwight frowned.

“Sorry, I guess I was being too subtle,” Eric apologized. “I was making the point that it takes a lot of different types of people to make a company work. Supervisors need to be reminded that not everyone is going to be a suit-wearing, public-facing glad-hander. We all have our skills, and we don’t fit into predefined molds. Making full use of available resources involves embracing our differences.”

“I guess I can buy that,” accepted Isabel.

The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

“Also, it was a spur-of-the moment decision,” Eric clarified sheepishly. “Not everything I do is well-thought-out and planned. Sometimes I just drift with the tides.”

“Now that I understand!” chirped Stacy.

“Well, I hope you all find something to enjoy about this evening,” Eric proffered. “I know it’s not your kind of scene.”

“The food is decent,” Irwin conceded, “but there needs to be more of it.”

“Oh…the food-service line should have opened up after the presentation.” Eric pointed to the far end of the ballroom. “You can get a more substantial dinner there. And there should be plenty of tables.”

“Now you’re talking!” Sam gushed. As the team walked away, Stacy remarked “I didn’t even recognize most of that snack food.”

As Eric watched them leave, he noticed a young lady some distance away, looking in his direction; when he met her gaze, she smiled at him. A faint twinge of recognition passed through his mind, then it faded. Eric slowly wound his way through the crowd, approaching her. As he got closer, her smile widened and became beaming. She wore a tan mid-length skirt and an understated cream-colored blouse, with a playful-looking pair of medium-height heeled boots.

“Hello,” he opened. “Have we met? You look familiar.”

“Oh, we’ve met before,” she posed cryptically. “More than once.”

“I apologize; I deal with so many people,” he protested. “Maybe you can help remind me.”

“Try to imagine me with facial piercings,” she said, her eyes twinkling.

His head reared with a start. “Right! I remember you from the first public forum we held!”

“And a less-public meeting with my social-protest group,” she reminded.

Eric blinked nervously. “Oh. Of course.” He looked around. “Why don’t we find somewhere else to talk about this.”

Eric moved toward a more deserted area of the ballroom; she gracefully took hold of his arm as she walked aside him.

“So you work for us now, I see,” Eric observed.

“That’s right!” Amber trilled. “I’m probably the lowest-ranking person that was allowed to attend, but I made it.”

“That’s a story I’d like to hear,” Eric piped up.

“I’m more interested in the story of your long hair and sideburns,” she teased.

They found a small, empty round table with two barstools, and seated themselves. A robo-butler took their drink orders and scurried away.

“That was you, wasn’t it?” Amber probed. “I’ve long thought it was.”

“Yeah, you caught me,” Eric admitted. “Back in my wild days.”

“That was less than a year ago,” Amber reminded him.

Eric sighed as he stared into the distance. “It may as well have been a lifetime ago. So much has happened since then.”

“It was easy to remember you,” Amber revealed. “You wanted your grant to remain anonymous, yet you still wanted a receipt. An odd request like that doesn’t go unnoticed.”

“I was worried about that,” Eric laughed.

“The piercing, visionary look in your eyes was also impossible to forget.” Eric simply smiled demurely.

“What I never understood,” Amber brought up as she crossed her legs, “was why you did it.”

“Because we had the same goal,” Eric explained. “We just had different opinions of where it would end.”

Amber’s brow furrowed. “You meant to unleash chaos?”

“And you didn’t?” Eric pointed out.

“I…” Amber looked down sadly. “Somehow I expected it to turn out differently. I thought defunding the police would cause people to come together and work for peace.”

“And they did, after a while,” Eric reflected. “Or did you mean immediately?”

“Well…” she started. Then she stared levelly at him. “How exactly did we have the same goal?”

“For me, defunding the police was a force multiplier,” Eric explained. “I wanted to take ownership of an entire city, to show what my vision was really capable of, but it was still too expensive. Once I heard about the emerging trend of defunding the police, I was certain that would cause crime to skyrocket, and hasten the end of civil order. I found your group as you were soliciting donations. And when you accomplished your goal, that helped me accomplish mine. Once the city crashed and burned, I ended up purchasing authority over it for far less than I could have otherwise.”

“You used us!” Amber protested.

“I helped you get what you believed you wanted!” Eric countered. “You thought it would end one way, I thought it would end a different way. I didn’t create the chaos; human nature did. Well, the worst instincts of human nature, at least. As the old saying goes, be careful what you wish for.”

A robo-butler arrived with their drinks. Eric took his double-shot of single-malt liquor, and Amber eyed the blueberry daiquiri on the table in front of her.

“I…I believed in them,” Amber sulked. “Don’t you, too? In your speech, you claimed you had faith in the decency of the average person. Were those just empty words?”

“Not at all,” Eric pointed out. “You believed in the wrong people. Instead of working for peace, they only looked out for themselves.” Eric motioned to acknowledge the party-goers in the ballroom. “These are the people I believe in. They’ve come together to work for peace…and prosperity.”

“I just don’t understand how I could have been so gullible,” Amber whimpered as she sipped her drink. “I obviously chose the wrong team to back.”

“At least you finally backed the right team,” Eric comforted. “I’d love to hear how that happened.”

Amber sighed. “It was soon after the chaos started. The police had been significantly defunded, and our group felt victorious. I told them we should use our remaining donations to fight for a new cause, like repealing the drug laws; I was really surprised when most wanted to take the money for themselves. Then we heard the city had been bought out by a corporation. The next thing I knew, my so-called compadres had emptied our bank accounts.”

“Sad, but not surprising,” Eric observed.

“I confronted them about it, of course,” Amber related. “They dismissed me as a ‘true believer’. Apparently they accepted the grifting nature of our cause. They said that’s why they didn’t tell me about draining the accounts; they knew I wouldn’t agree to it.” She sobbed slightly. “I never felt more hurt and betrayed in my life. And that’s when I decided it was time for a change.”

“Like the old saying goes,” Eric consoled, “a conservative is a progressive who’s been mugged.”

Amber looked up, smiling. “That’s great. I’ve never heard that before, but yeah, that’s exactly how I felt.” She took a long drink before continuing. “So I got rid of all the body piercings, dyed my hair back to something close to its original color, started dressing better…and got a low-level management position in Unlimited Partners. I work in Linda Carlyle’s organization.”

“Oh, yes…they deal with prisoners and criminals.” Eric looked at her slyly. “Trying to change the system from within, were you?”

“That was the idea, at first,” Amber admitted. “But that’s not how it turned out.”

“How so?” Eric asked as he sipped his whiskey.

“I quickly learned that most people in police custody were like my faithless compadres — dishonest, disloyal, lazy, self-centered, and just plain evil. It suddenly hit me I had wasted years of my life defending the indefensible.” She took another long drink before continuing. “Now, I only seek to treat the incarcerated as well as possible. Fortunately, that’s in line with the goals of Unlimited Partners.” She smiled as she gestured with her glass. “As everyone keeps telling me, it’s all about making full use of available resources!” she laughed.

“Sounds like you found your calling!” Eric trilled.

Amber sighed. “I like what I’m doing, but it doesn’t really make use of my biology degree.”

Eric tilted his head. “Really? Somehow I didn’t see that in you. Why aren’t you working in your field?”

“I wanted to work in a zoo, helping animals,” Amber explained. “But so does everyone else, apparently. I eventually ended up in Big Pharma, and getting paid pretty well too. But there are only so many studies you can run, so many conference papers you can write. It got to be pretty mind-numbing. Plus, it really bugged me how they treated the lab animals, and even my reasonable suggestions for better treatment got shot down. So when I met a bunch of like-minded rabble-rousers at a protest, I thought I had found my true calling. But I didn’t need a degree for that.” She sipped her drink. “I assume you have a degree? Do you make use of it?”

“Sort of,” Eric disclosed. “I have a business degree, and a minor in political science. But I disagree with practically everything they tried to teach me. Still, I thought it was important to know what the rules were, so that I could break them properly.”

Amber’s eyes twinkled. “I can see that!”

“My real education was self-directed, and began in my teen years,” Eric reminisced. “It started with a profound realization about the adult world: no one knows anything. All these self-important people running around, spouting off about this and that, claiming to understand how it all works, telling everyone else what to do.” Eric took a gulp of his whiskey. “Nothing but pure arrogance.”

Amber stared hollowly for a moment before downing the rest of her drink. Moments later, a robo-butler swung by to take her empty glass and ask if she wanted another; Amber ordered a Long Island Iced Tea. The robo-butler acknowledged her and sped off.

“Then maybe you can explain,” Amber pined. “The people that work here, and the people I used to try to help, couldn’t be any more different. And yet we’re all human beings. You can obviously tell them apart, or you wouldn’t have accomplished so much. What’s your secret?”

“I’m surprised you don’t know,” Eric said with a small jolt. “It comes straight from evolutionary biology.”

“I always liked that subject, but I didn’t pay close attention to it,” Amber admitted. “I couldn’t see it helping me with zoo animals.”

“Do you remember the difference between r-selection and K-selection?” Eric finished his drink; a robo-butler arrived with Amber’s drink, and to take Eric’s empty glass, and asked if Eric wanted another. He ordered a vodka and cranberry juice. The robo-butler wheeled away to fulfill his bidding.

“Yeah, that was fascinating,” Amber gushed. “The survival strategies of prey species versus predator species.”

“Do you remember the hallmarks of r-strategy?”

“Let’s see,” she pondered. “It’s meant to take advantage of a resource glut. It’s characterized by promiscuity, low-investment single parenting, early onset sexual behavior, and producing offspring of quantity instead of quality. There’s also little or no group loyalty; everyone is in it for themselves.” She looked thoughtful as she stared into the distance.

“Does that sound like anyone you know?”

“Who do you mean?” Amber sipped her drink, then she suddenly stopped as her eyes grew wide. “You mean…oh no…but…but predators in nature don’t adopt a prey mentality.” She was suddenly taken aback. “But predators in an unnatural environment might! Like people.” She set her drink down. “I can’t believe I never made that connection before. Yet I deal with it every day at work!”

“It’s a difficult thing to accept,” Eric conceded. “But it’s the unintended consequences of well-intentioned government policies. For instance, child welfare assistance.”

“Right.” Amber’s eyes shone with revelation. “Mothers are rewarded for having more children, and having to take care of more children precludes employment, so they’re also rewarded for staying unemployed. The fathers are not needed, nor are they rewarded for staying, so they leave, to sire other children.” She sipped her drink before continuing. “This is a recipe for large numbers of under-supervised children…quantity over quality. The prey mentality all over again.”

“And here’s the real kicker,” Eric added. “What happens if this is continued for a few generations?”

“Well, natural selection…” Amber started. Then her mouth dropped open, and she reared her head. “You end up with a population that’s genetically predisposed to staying stuck in the r-strategy. Literally.” She turned to Eric. “It’s not oppression that keeps people trapped in this cycle…it’s genetics!”

“Unfortunately, yes,” Eric commiserated. “Still, it’s not completely bleak. Genetics also allows for outliers — people who can rise above their circumstances. People who have something to offer, despite everything. And that’s where your department comes in. Don’t you see? You find the diamonds in the rough.”

“I never saw it that way before,” Amber admitted. “It seems so hopeless.”

“Not at all,” Eric pointed out with a gleam in his eye. “You were a diamond in the rough! Look at you now!”

Amber giggled and blushed. “Thank you.” She sighed. “Still, I wish I could put my biology degree to some use. I’d like to go to veterinary school, but another four years of student debt is just too much to face.”

“We have positions for biologists,” Eric reminded.

Amber made a disgusted face. “Yeah, if you want to put brain implants into cats. I know they don’t seem to mind, but I’ve had enough of animal vivisection.”

“What did you like doing in biology?” Eric asked.

Amber’s eyes filled with an impish glow. “I was actually really good at neuroscience. The possibilities fascinate me! I showed quite a bit of aptitude repairing spinal injuries in lab animals. And there’s so much variation between species. Did you know sharks can sense electricity, infrared, and water displacement? Even their teeth can sense pressure!”

“You do love this subject!” Eric exulted.

“I used to,” Amber confided. “Big Pharma abused my knowledge to drill holes in rat skulls, and test drugs that broke the brain/blood barrier. I’d prefer to work in rehabilitation. There’s not a lot of call for neuroscience that doesn’t involve inflicting pain on animals. At least, not without a lot more schooling.”

“Don’t be so sure of that,” Eric responded absentmindedly, tapping a note into his cell phone. “Have you filled out your internal resume with your biology experience?”

“No,” Amber confessed. “I didn’t think it was relevant. And I wasn’t interested in any of the positions I knew about.”

“There’s more going on in this company than you might think.” Eric finished typing his note. “Let me know when you’ve fleshed out your biology resume. I know of a small group that might be interested in interviewing you.”

“No hurting animals?” she inquired.

“No hurting animals,” he vowed.

“That’d be great!” she rejoiced. “But what do they work on?”

The robo-butler returned with Eric’s vodka and cranberry juice. “Well…this, for one thing.”

Amber’s jaw dropped. “They’re cybernetic? I thought they were just robots.”

“Not the latest generation,” Eric revealed. “Tonight is their first demonstration outside of the lab.”

Amber scanned her eyes over the crowd. The robo-butlers stood out from the people with their thin build and their sensor-packed heads. She marveled as she watched them collectively, darting between partygoers, balancing huge trays of dirty dishes, and deftly handing off their loads to each other. Her eyes welled with tears. “They’re beautiful.”

She downed the rest of her drink. Within moments, a robo-butler arrived to take her glass; she declined ordering another drink. As it sped away, she gave it a wiggly wave. “Bye bye!”

Eric smiled. “You should definitely take that interview. I think you’d fit right in.”

“I think I will.” She looked around. “I really should be going; I didn’t mean to take up so much of your time.”

“Not at all!” Eric assured her. “This is exactly what I wanted to do here.”

“To interview people for jobs?” Amber asked.

“Not exactly,” Eric explained. “To talk to people directly, without the usual hierarchy of intermediaries, and when they’re more relaxed.”

“Well, don’t spend the whole evening working,” she chided playfully. “Try to have some fun!”

Eric smiled. “I assure you, I am.”

Amber blushed again. “Thanks.” As she moved to leave, she turned around. “And I think you looked better with long hair. You should try that again.”

Eric chuckled. “I don’t think that’s my style.”

“How about a ponytail? That’s popular with some executives. I think it’d work for you.”

Eric toasted her with his glass. “I’ll take it under advisement.”

“You do that.” She gave him a wiggly wave before leaving. “Hope to see you again.”

As he watched her leave, he replied under his breath. “Definitely.”