Maestro’s had never been more crowded. People were packed like sardines into booths and tables, leaving very little room for the waiters to move about. Ever since Food & Wine magazine declared the steakhouse “the best restaurant you’ve never heard of,” a table has been hard to come by. Until recently Maestro’s barely stuck out amongst its high-rent neighbors in Beverly Hills, but now there was no mistaking the mob of cars and valets outside the place. I’d like to say Katie and I got a much-coveted booth away from the kitchen based on my charm or connections I had, but it wasn't the case. I had introduced the maitre d’ to Mr. Jackson.

In the downtime following my Rebecca detox, I managed to come across Katie’s number and gave her a call. Before hurricane Rebecca blew into my life and cut me off from everybody, I’d been introduced to Katie one night at a bar by a mutual friend of ours: Samantha, the eternal matchmaker. Sam was determined to pair everybody she knew with their dream mate, and was positive the two of us would hit it off, despite her concerns I’d be corrupting an otherwise innocent girl with my sordid ways. Turns out Sam had Katie pegged all wrong – away from prying eyes she was quite the dirty tart. She liked to be in control, though you wouldn’t know it from her fresh, wholesome appearance. Her looks served her well tonight. Katie's blonde, shoulder-length hair gently brushed the strand of pearls adorning her neck, while the crème blouse and black skirt were ultra-traditionalist and perfect for this setting. I sat back and admired her beauty. She was truly the epitome of what Ludacris rapped about: A lady in the street but a freak in the bed.

To anybody in the restaurant the two of us looked like just another normal couple having a steak dinner. What was going on under the table was a different story. Katie ran her foot along the side of my leg, slowly digging the leather of her shoe into the material of my slacks and working it higher. Once the skin was exposed she dug the metal-clad tip of her heel in and stroked it up and down my leg, each time slowly inching higher.

Normally this alone would arouse me beyond control, but what made things even hotter was she was talking to me about politics in a slow, indifferent tone as she worked her magic under the table.

“The GOP knows they’ve been viewed for too long as the party of rich, stuffy white men, and they need an entirely different identity if they are going to attract new voters to their cause. They want the Black vote, the Latino vote, the Asian vote.”

Katie backed off her heel and worked the toe end of her shoe higher along my leg.

“All three groups have turned to religion more and more as a means of making sense of this crazy world, so in order to tap into those voters the GOP has transformed itself into the party of God.”

Her foot reached my knee and she ran it around my kneecap like a bowler polishing his ball.

“Now the minority groups aren’t going to immediately respond, there has to be a break-in period, so for the time being what you’re left with are the middle-aged white religious voters who already turn out to the polls but it’s now with heightened interest because their views are front and center for the party.”

Katie removed her left shoe and began working her bare foot along my thigh.

"The moderate conservatives of the party don’t realize they still have the greatest numbers of rank-and-file members. They feel shut out by Bush and his type when the truth is that they don’t shouldn't be. The voters in the next five presidential elections are being sought after. Religion is just a means to this end.”

Katie’s foot inched closer and closer to my crotch. I reached for her leg to caress it but when I did she withdrew. I could just see the hem of her skirt meet her bare legs as she placed her shoe back on. I wanted reach under her skirt, remove her panties and get to work right then and there. I wanted to throw her onto the table and consummate things in front of the whole restaurant. She was pushing all my buttons, and I wasn’t sure if it was because of the foot work or the political talk.

“All democrats across the board are missing the boat. They’re a party with no identity. Their head is cut off. You’d think they’d position themselves as the populist party, the party of the constitution since the republicans are doing opposite. But they don’t. They’re afraid of anything that may come off as offensive, so they don’t take any risks. They don’t make that jump.”

I nodded. Katie resumed rubbing her heel along my pant leg. My eyeballs felt like they were going to roll back into my skull.

“The democrats even flubbed the whole lesbian thing with Chaney’s daughter. Come on, everybody knows the GOP is a party of homophobes, yet when the democratic party played that card they managed to get it turned around on themselves.” She paused and caught view of my eyes rolling into my skull. “I’m not boring you with this, am I?” she asked, adding a little rub with the spike of her heel for emphasis.

“No, as a matter of fact I don’t know which is arousing me more – the stuff you’re doing to me under the table, or the mindfuck you’re laying on me with this political talk. I really dig how you follow politics and are up on the party lines.”

She smiled and reached for her wine glass. The funny thing about wine pairings when it comes to steak is that everybody wants to match a bold, overpowering wine with their meal when it is far better to have something that compliments it. The wine steward made a good recommendation; the mild red varietal Katie was sipping turned out to be a perfect match.

“I know the stereotype; politics is not sexy, hence women don’t follow it. You tend to become more aware of politics when you have some money and you’re concerned with keeping as much of it as you can. I don’t fit the stereotype, I’ve always had an interest.” She chuckled. “Once I’m rich I’m sure I’ll follow it even more.”

I liked what Katie was doing to me. I liked the brief amount of time we had spent together. If I could make this last four months, until around the opening day of baseball, it would be a good thing. She’d be worth the risk. She’d be worth jumping off the deep end for.
___________________________________________________________________

He approached me wearing a big smile. Our senior creative director had a reputation around the office for having an immense ego. Even his wake carried an ego. But he sounded jovial when he stopped me in the hall.

“Hey man, how’s it going? I’m wondering if you’ll have ten minutes sometime this morning to talk.”

I looked around the bare, empty hall we were standing in. “Sure Eric. You want to talk now?”

“No, this is a 'behind closed doors' talk. Let’s do it in my office sometime before noon.” He brushed past me and headed towards the lobby. “I’ll see you later buddy,” he trailed off.

It was sometime after 11 when I finally stopped by to talk. I took a seat on his couch and looked at the storyboards that adorned his office, most displaying the more recent campaigns he had created. Eric took a seat behind his desk and began tossing around a Nerf football.

“Do you remember a few months back when you offered up some suggestions for a campaign we were putting together for Absolut spirits?” he asked.

I remembered. I had interrupted their work in the conference room as they were preparing their pitch boards and told them the approach was all wrong. No vodka being marketed to young drinkers would ever be successful if advertised in the manner they had intended. Had Eric waited all this time to yell at me for criticizing his choices?

“Yes, I remember. I hope I wasn’t stepping on any toes when I voiced my opinion back then.”

“No, not at all. I’m glad you spoke up when you did. More importantly, it was a critical part to our success with that campaign. And the Absolut people were happy. Listen, what are your dinner plans tonight?”

“Tonight?” None as luck would have it.

“There is a group of heavy hitters from Absolut in town to discuss a potential project, and we are due to have dinner with them this evening. A few of them and a few of us – myself, Gloria, and Scott.” Scott was one of his associate creative directors. “There is an exciting opportunity for us to do some new things with Absolut, and it will affect everybody at the office. This includes you too. I know that this sounds cryptic but I promise it will all be explained tonight.”

“Sure. When and where?”

“Let’s call it 7:30 at Lawrys on La Cienega. Know the place?”

“Of course.” I stood up to leave. On the opposing wall was a frame of three stills from Eric’s campaign for Apple computers. It involved a computer with a telescoping neck mimicking movement of people and animals. It was an easy way of getting a basic point across. Eric was a pro in telling those kind of stories.

He stopped tossing the ball when I reached the door. “Oh Reed? Full suit tonight if you would. We want to look our Sunday best.”
___________________________________________________________________

“Tell me why you have to leave early again?”

“I’ve already told you Melinda, I don’t have time to go home at a normal hour, change into a suit, and come back across mid-city. It just ain’t happening.” It was the truth. My current ensemble of brown khakis, burgundy polo, and two-tone brown sport coat wasn’t going to cut it this evening. Tonight I needed a power suit like my black and light chalk-white pinstriped Boss suit, and a matching pocket square and tie with just a hint of color. I needed to impress.

“Who are you meeting?” she asked.

“Eric said something about meeting some people from here tonight,” I replied.

“Eric said? Wait a minute, are you involved with this dinner thing!”

“Yeah.” I closed the door for some privacy. “Why, aren't you?”

Mel kicked the carpet with the spike of her heel. “No,” she replied softly in a whiny voice. “I never get any of the fun stuff.”

“How do you know it’s fun? What have you heard?”

“That’s just it, I’ve heard very little. I usually have good sources, but not this time. What about you?”

“Eric didn’t tell me squat,” I said. “Just that we were having dinner with some folks from Absolut spirits. That’s all he revealed. And you better not pass that info to anybody else.” I sat next to her at the edge of the desk. It was the dead of winter, yet Melinda wore a short, tight miniskirt with no stockings. Her legs looked smooth and shiny. I could tell she’d recently gone to a tanning salon.

“How often would you say you wax your legs?” She reacted slowly, rubbing one leg against the other for show before crossing them at the ankle.

“Why, have you been staring at my legs lately, you little perv?” She turned on the seductive tone in her voice and took it just below purr level.

“Only when you show ‘em off around the place like they’re the last pair on Earth I’m ever going to see.”

“Hey mister, I go to great lengths to take care of myself and look good.”

“Yeah, and none of that would have to do with trying to one-up all the other women in the office, right? I’m sure you just do it for you, to keep your self-esteem intact,” I taunted.

She got up and opened the door. “Shut up, you’re not being funny.”
___________________________________________________________________

Lawrys is a restaurant frozen in time. Nothing ever changes about the place. The walls remain the same bland shade of beige, the waiters are just as stuffy, the valet service just as terrible. Despite their reputation for fine steaks and exquisite fare, Lawrys lives off legend and the fumes of decades past. However, they still made a good Yorkshire pudding, so I had that to look forward to. I made the drive over wondering what this group could possibly want from me. I was more put off by what Eric wasn't telling me than what little information he did offer. I pulled into the lot and collected my valet ticket from the attendant.

Inside, I found the group in the lounge nursing their first round of manhattans. It was some of ours, some of theirs. Chiat/Day was represented by Eric, Scott, and our big boss, Gloria. Their side consisted of Absolut's vice president of marketing, director of communications, and brand manager. The three looked as business like and financial as could be. There was no denying they were the brass of the company. Eric noticed me as soon as I entered the room. He hailed me over and made introductions. "Like the suit," one commented. "Is that a Talbot tie?" It was good to know I was starting on a level playing field.

We made it through an uneventful dinner, and once the stewed spinach was finished, once the "diamond Jim Brady" cuts of steak were polished off, we settled in for post-meal brandys. That's when the business began.

"I know we've all been very quiet and secretive as to why we are all here tonight." Eric said to me as he took a strong sniff of his brandy before proceeding with the smallest of sips. "As you know, Chiat/Day has previously done work with Absolut Spirits, both in television and print. One you are very familiar with, as you contributed some ideas."

Absolut's VP leaned forward. "When we first heard these ideas we were impressed, we had to know who on Eric's team offered them up. When he said it was somebody his creative team we were even more intrigued. But he gave the credit where it was due."

Eric leaned back in his chair with an air of satisfaction about him. The ego had returned. He looked like somebody who had just revealed the location of the goose that laid the golden egg.

Gloria shifted in her chair and cleared her throat. "We are hoping to embark on a new relationship with Absolut, one that re-establishes their brand as the premier manufacturer of vodka."

"That's right," chimed in their director of communications, "in recent years Absolut has lost a lot of ground among our younger drinkers. Now that 21-30 year olds have much more disposable income than did previous generations, they are spending it in more discerning ways. Whereas once they bought Absolut without question, now they are opting for Ketel One, Fris, and Grey Goose. Even our traditional market rivals - Stoli and Belvedere - have been able to reinvent themselves for the younger crowd. Different flavors, hipper presentation. We've been stuck on pause."

It was true. Absolut had become the laughing stock of vodkas among my age group. It wasn't even acceptable in bloody marys or screwdrivers. If people my age were spending money on booze it was on the top-shelf varieties. And it didn't even matter whether they were truly top-shelf calibre as long as they were sold to us that way.

Scott broke in with a differing point of view. "A challenge for us is the creative department here is made up of seasoned veterans and experienced storytellers who have been in the business for decades." Scott cleared his throat and laughed a quick high-pitched laugh. "In short, we're old. Somewhere along the line we made a disconnect with younger buyers like yourself."

Gloria put it succinctly: "For many years we've advertised products to a large base of consumers. We've never had such a narrow target market."

"And neither have we," chimed in the Absolut vp. "For decades we advertised to the drinkers as one homogeneous group. There weren't subdivided niches as there are now."

I looked over at their third guy, the brand manger, waiting for him to share some additional information. The guy merely nodded in agreement with everybody. He must have been their yes man.

"It's an exciting venture and a calculated risk for both parties," said Gloria. "The stakes are high, but the return makes it worth the risk. I think we are all looking forward to making that jump."

I swirled about my brandy, none to eager to drink it. All they had managed to do was talk in circles without mentioning anything about what I was doing there. I needed some answers.

"You look a little puzzled," noticed Eric.

"I'm still not quite sure what all of this has to do with me," I replied.

Their communications director butted in. "Well, we can't put together a successful campaign for a product geared towards young people if we don't have any young people on the team!"

"You see Reed, after you came forth with your ideas, the light bulb went off and we all began to wonder what else you could contribute," said Gloria.

"Why you are here is simple," the Absolut vp interjected. "We want somebody on the inside, so to speak. Somebody who walks the walk. Somebody who is representative of our target market, a person who goes out regularly and buys these rival alcohols. We want to know what's so great about theirs and so wrong with ours. We want a built-in focus group. We think you can be that person for us."

"But I'm not a creative person," I protested. "I'm an account executive. I glad-hand people and message egos. I assure them that everything's going to be all right. Surely you have enough of those types at your disposal."

Gloria cut in. "But you are creative. Your ideas for the Absolut Christmas campaign are proof. Plus, I can attest to your being the perfect person for this assignment. You are a living example of our market. When you go into a bar you know exactly what you want to drink, the exact brand of liquor you want used, and how much you expect to pay for it. I know this firsthand. We couldn't ask for anybody better than that."

I sunk in my seat. That's why Gloria was so gung-ho about going for drinks in a high-profile place. She wasn't concerned with studying male-female behavior in social settings or any of that bullshit. She was interested in studying me. She was scouting me for this project. The wheels in my head began turning and I wondered if she'd gone as far as to rig her car problem as well in order to meet me.

"I know what you're thinking," said Eric, "You're thinking that we haven't come to the right guy, that you're not cut out for this. Maybe you think it's not up your alley. But we all believe you would be up to the challenge. We believe you could successfully make that jump." The table noddled in unison like a bunch of bobble-head dolls.

"But what would I be doing?" I asked.

"You'd be brought aboard in an advisor's role. You would still draw a salary from us as you have all along, but you would be working on the Absolut campaign in its entirety."

"There is also a stipend we're offering, but we can discuss the details of that later," Gloria added.

"But I thought the Absolut account was an international one. Does that mean you're bringing it stateside to Los Angeles?" My eyes lit up with excitement. "That would be an excellent call. There are many in our office in this same age bracket, I'm sure they would be thrilled if you solicited ideas from them. I could enlist your help. And if we want to try the product in action I can recommend a number of bars here in mid-city, on the westside, or even in the south bay."

"I'm sure you could, but I don't think you're following us here," replied the vp. "The account will remain an international one as it has always been."

"But I don't understand how that can work with me on board as an advisor."

Gloria lowered her brandy glass and sighed deeply. "The job is in Toronto, Reed. Canada. You'd be accepting a transfer to Toronto for the duration of the campaign."

What?