Page 34 of Going Down

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“Oh, am I coming out there?”

“Hell, yeah, that is if you still want this account. You did say you wanted this account, didn’t you?”

“Hell yeah,” I said, trying to sound like Dean. I pictured Dean as a young blonde-haired, blue eyed, California white boy, whose major concern in life was the state of his tan and the warmth of the women.

“I read over your proposal and I was very impressed with it. Looks like something I could work with.”

“If you were having fun in the sun all weekend, working on your tan and your drunk, when did you have time to read it?”

“Friday afternoon before I left. So when can you present it to my boss?”

“Go ahead and send me a letter accepting my proposal. Give me a couple of hours to work out the details, and I’ll call you back with travel plans,” I replied excitedly. I’d never been to the West Coast and I was dying to go. I only hoped that Angelique would change her mind and go with me. I briefly considered taking Lana, but I dismissed the thought as quickly as I could.

“No can do,” Dean said. “I’m going to bed. I’m beat. I already called in. I’m gonna crash. But I just wanted to tell you that.”

“Dean, I couldn’t think of a better way to start the morning. I’m sure you’ll be impressed with the product.”

“Dude, I’m out. We’ll talk later in the week.” With that, Dean hung up the phone and I immediately began thinking about the commission I’d earn, Sales Rep of the Year, and the trip to St. Martin.

I called Angelique to share the news with her.

“This is Angelique,” she answered.

“Hi, baby. Are you having a good morning?” I asked.

“No. I don’t wanna be here. I would much rather be home in bed in your arms. How about you?”

“Well, let me think a moment.” I paused. “Hmm.”

“This should be a no-brainer. So choose your words carefully.”

“Since you put it that way, I can’t think of anywhere I’d rather be, than in your arms.”

“I feel a headache coming on. Why don’t you take the rest of the day off and meet me at the house?”

“Can’t do it. How about we meet for lunch?”

“I’m going home soon,” Angelique said. “I’m serious about having a headache. I’m just not with it today.”

“Did you take something for


“No, I’m just going home.”

“I hope you feel better. I’ll be home as soon as I can. Anyway, I was calling to tell you that Dean from Bandexx called this morning. He liked the proposal and he wants me to come to Cali to present it.”

“Baby, that’s wonderful. I’m so proud of you. St. Martin here we come. We gotta celebrate. Go out to dinner, get some champagne. My treat of course.”

“Not yet, it’s still a long way to October. But this should put me out front, with a good lead. I’m probably gonna have to go to San Diego sometime this week. I was hoping you’d change your mind about going with me.”

“I just might have to do that. But we’ll talk about it when you get home. I gotta run now, baby. I love you,” Angelique said and hung up the phone.

I hung up the phone and gathered my Bandexx notes and my proposal together, filled out the travel authorization form, and headed down the hall to see Al Miller. Al was a great salesman; a legend in his time. He could sell a lawnmower to a man with no grass. Now, as sales manager, he was bored, living only for his inspirational talks during the daily sales meeting.

“Morning, Amy,” I said.

Amy is Al’s secretary. The classic dumb blonde, even though her hair was brown. Very pretty but absolutely no brain at all. She had a job because she was Al’s toy and everybody knew it. “Is Al in?”