Boss Girl

"No. Why?"

"Like I said, we're hiring a lot of people."

He smiled and looked down at the floor. "I'm sure I don't exactly fit the traditional anchorman profile."

"We're very untraditional, in case you hadn't noticed from watching our newscasts," said Rica.

"Well, yeah, I guess you are," he said.

"Speaking of untraditional, what made you walk over here?" Rica asked. "We're not exactly girls right out of college."

His hands went into his pockets as he slouched, and suddenly I saw a sheepish teenager about to ask a girl out. "Well, I knew it was a long shot, with me being… well… me. But I… how do I put this without offending you?" He pulled one hand from his pocket and placed it on top of Jillian's, patted it a few times, then stared directly at her. "The, uh, women my age aren't terribly… stimulating."

Jillian gulped. Her longing eyes faded deeper into a dream state, as her head tilted to one side. She still hadn't said a damn thing.

He pulled an envelope from his pocket and held it up in front of us. "Listen, I have an extra ticket to a new Broadway show this evening. It's a musical. My boss couldn't go and he just gave them to me. And…" he turned back to Jillian. "I just thought you looked like the kind of classy woman who might enjoy a night at the theater. No strings attached. I'll take you right home afterwards. But I insist on stopping for cheesecake after the play."

Cupid was still apparently holding down the mute button on Jillian, but a smile grew across her face. I was about to grab her head and move it up and down like a bobblehead doll when Neely saved the day.

"Jillian loves Broadway musicals," said Neely. "And we can vouch for her; she's very classy."

"Uh-huh," muttered Jillian, looking like a willing subject from a hypnotist's show.

The sphinx speaks!

"Tell you what, Shawn," I said. "We're pretty much finished up here with the business stuff so why don't you take Jillian to that play and on the way she can tell you about the opportunities at our network. Maybe you'd be interested."

He looked at Jillian. "That okay with you?" he asked.

The waitress was right. He was asking permission.

This stuff isn't in the tall girl playbook. How in the hell did I miss this?

"Yeah," she said, voice cracking.

He looked at his watch. "Okay then, we'll need to get going if we're gonna get a cab," he said, and extended a hand out to her. She took it, hopped off the bar stool and stood up next to him, towering over him in her four-inch heels. The top of his head reached her shoulder. He looked up at her like he'd just won the tall strawberry blonde lottery, then turned back to us. "It was nice meeting you all. Maybe I'll see you again."

"That would be nice. Good meeting you, Shawn," I said, as they turned and left.

"And you thought all our viewers were gonna be women," said Rica.

I watched them leave the bar, her arm around his shoulder, his arm around her waist.

More important, a whole bunch of guys in their twenties looked past the vapid, mini-skirted bimbos that filled the bar and stared at Shawn with envy.

So much for blowing off the male demographic.

* * *

The walk through the large reception area was like going through a buffet line of men. Models and actors filled every chair, while a few stood and lined the walls. I made my way to the meeting room just off the front door that we'd designated for interviews. A cloud of cologne filled my lungs. Our middle-aged, impeccably coiffed, blonde receptionist, the only woman in the room, was obviously enjoying the attention she was getting as two of the men leaned on her desk and were chatting her up.

Oh, this was going to be fun. A quick glance around the room told me there were plenty of possibles in this bunch.

I reached the door to the meeting room just as the receptionist buzzed me through, turned around and said, "Guys, we'll be starting shortly." They all straightened up as I headed through the door.

Inside, I found Rica and Neely already in place at the long maple table which dominated the room, enjoying coffee and donuts. The deep red walls were bare, faded squares showing the previous locations of prime-time posters that Amanda had thankfully ditched.

"Pretty nice-looking bunch out there," said Rica. "Not too shabby at all."

"I never knew New York had so many hot men," said Neely.

"Between Madison Avenue and Broadway, what did you expect?" I took a seat at the end of the table, next to a black metal cart on wheels that held a monitor, a DVD player and a VCR. "By the way, anybody seen Jillian?"

The door opened and she appeared on cue, newspaper under one arm while carrying a dark leather portfolio. "Morning, guys," she said, trying to hold back a smile as she made her way around the room and took a seat next to Rica at the far end of the table.

Rica immediately turned to face her. "So?" she asked.

"What?" said Jillian.

"How was last night?" asked Rica.

"Pffft," she said, with a wave of her hand. "The play was a disaster. We left at intermission." She then pulled a blank legal pad from her portfolio, placed it on the desk in front of her, and pretended to stare at it. "Terrible choreography. Just terrible. I can't believe they can get away with that on Broadway."

"What a bunch of horseshit," said Rica.

"What?" said Jillian.

"You know what we mean," said Neely. "How was your Pocket Chippendale?"

I smiled at Neely's dead-on description of Shawn, leaned back in my chair and crossed my arms as Jillian began to squirm in her seat. "Yeah, Jillian. Did you manage to speak the rest of the evening?"

"You guys leave me alone," she said, blushing. "And yes, we talked quite a bit. He's very sweet, incredibly smart. Perfect gentleman. And his references are impeccable. By the way, you should know that not everything about Shawn is proportional."

"Really," I said, raising my eyebrows. "What a pleasant surprise for you."

"You have no idea what you're missing, Syd," said Jillian. "You need a Pocket Chippendale of your own."

"That good, huh?" asked Neely.

She nodded. "Oh yeah. He tortured me for an hour on the couch and finally I couldn't take any more, so I just threw him over my shoulder like a cave girl, carried him to the bedroom and took him. You have no idea how empowering that is."

Rica's mouth dropped. "You actually carried him to the bedroom?"

"Sure. I'm really strong, and he's pretty light." She flexed her muscles, revealing well-toned biceps, and lowered her voice. "Me woman, you sex object."

"So the waitress was right?" asked Neely. "You enjoyed your little snack?

Jillian nodded. "Very much. And he obeys like a trained seal. Does whatever I ask. Worshiped me like a goddess."