Free Advanced Mythology by Jody Lynn Nye Page A

brown-haired woman with intense, blue eyes beside him. The tall man with the domelike head fringed with the remnants of bronze hair was “Theo Lehmann, head of engineering. Mr. Mann, you’ve met W. Jason Allen, our president,” she nodded toward the elegant, bearded, strawberry-blond man wearing an Ungaro suit and a collarless shirt at the other end of the table, “and Peggy Gilmore, our executive creative director; Doug Constance, creative director; Rollin Chisholm, art director and Janine Martinez, copywriter. Keith Doyle, one of our … freelance copywriters. And you know Paul Meier, who will be the group director for your account.”
    Keith grinned at Paul, a medium-sized man with black-brown hair and sallow-tan skin who had been Keith’s supervisor during his semester there. Doug Constance, about Paul’s age, had thick blond hair and a pale gray silk Italian jacket, both elegant and expensive-looking. By contrast, Peggy, a slim woman with light-brown hair, Rollin, a burly but muscular dark-skinned African-American, and Janine, tall and heavyset, were casually dressed. Everyone shook hands. Keith sat down in the empty seat beside Dorothy, perching on the edge of the chair, ready for whatever was to come. She gave him a warm smile, looking poised and ready. In the several months since the two of them had worked together she had grown in confidence. Out of a soft leather briefcase she took a sketch pad and a pencil, and Keith remembered that her artistic ability was one of the skills that had qualified her for the internship. She doodled when she was nervous. She didn’t touch pen to paper; instead she waited patiently for everyone to settle down.
    “Gadfly?” Paul asked.
    “All the good names were taken,” Ms. Schick said with a wry grin. Everyone chuckled. That was a good sign, if the client was willing to break the ice so soon. One of Paul’s current crop of interns from the boardroom up the hall took orders for coffee. Keith, who liked his very sweet, was glad to see no one watched him while he poured four packets of sugar into the cup.
    Bill Mann nodded politely as his coffee was set down before him, but he kept his arms folded while Ms. Schick dealt out sheets of paper to everyone.
    “Just a reminder that we can’t proceed until we have nondisclosure agreements from everyone,” Mann said. After a glance, most of the others pushed the sheets away or tucked them into their notepads, but a couple of the PDQ executives joined Keith in filling out the form. Keith read through the paragraphs above the lines asking for his name, address, and date of birth. The language of the document alarmed him with its threats of penalties, fines, legal fees and so on if he broke any of the clauses therein contained. He looked up. Paul caught his panicky gaze and nodded slightly, understanding his concerns without having to ask.
    “Standard boilerplate,” Paul said very casually. “I see the same thing every day.” Gratefully, Keith scrawled his name and pushed the paper toward Ms. Schick.
    Mann reached over to take the paper off the table, leaving the wide expanse of shining black marble open. Once the papers were collected and put away, Dorothy stood up and faced the clients with the same anxious expression she might have if she was about to dive off the high board into an unfamiliar pool. More than just her job was at stake. A big campaign for a big client could mean millions of dollars for PDQ. Failure might mean half the staff in the room could be looking for work within days. Keith found he was holding his breath, and let it out silently, not wanting to be the one to attract attention. Dorothy smiled at the visitors.
    “We want to thank Gadfly for giving us this opportunity to offer our services. We understand that your company’s primary focus is personal technology. That’s an exciting field. We have the experience you’re looking for to promote your product, and we have the numbers to prove it. We know that