Taylor Cruz watched bikini’d bodies chassé past him holding champagne glasses with a rainbow of drink varieties that rivaled their suits. He slouched comfortably on a sofa under a gazebo canopied in sheer silks, twinkling with white Christmas lights.
“Dude if you ever need a lead, I have a guy for you!” boasted some no-name agent. They all wanted a piece of Taylor, a big break they thought he could give them. This guy was pushy and repulsive. Fortunately his phone chirped.
“I gotta take this,” he smiled and waved the guy off, saved by the ring, though he didn’t know the number at all. “Hello?”
“Hi, Taylor Cruz? This is Lily Vanderbilt.”
“Lily?” that was unprofessional, “Oh, Lily! Of course.”
“I found your card in my pocket, sorry if I took too long to respond. Do you have a part for me?”
“A part? Uh,” what was he thinking, talking to this girl, better get rid of her. “Come to my office tomorrow at 3; we’ll chat!”
“Oh wow! I knew it! Thanks!”
Why did he do that?