Free L.A. Caveman by Christina Crooks Page B

really annoyed her, though,
Stanna thought as she exited the elevator car and strode towards
her battered station wagon, was that the "good" kind of man, the
sweetly sensitive, fun, understanding guy, was so often insipid. Or
gay.
    She was obviously meant to remain
single.

CHAPTER FIVE
     
    Jake concluded his night meeting with
the ad agency representing one of Men's Weekly's biggest
advertisers.
    It had gone extremely well.
    He felt his blood pounding quickly
through his veins as the mirrored elevator closed and began sinking
slowly to ground floor, and managed to restrain his shout of
triumph until he was well out of earshot of the ad executives. Then
he let her rip: "Whoooo-hooooo!" He did a two-second silly dance,
wiggling his butt, until the elevator bumped ground and the
mirrored doors parted to reveal the decadently appointed lobby. He
grinned at the desk-bound security guard and strode out into the
warm Los Angeles night.
    " They like me, they really really
like me!" Jake couldn't remember the Hollywood actress who
first uttered those plaintive words, but for him it would be, "They like my magazine, they really really like my
magazine!"
    The agency had agreed to buy ad space
in Men's Weekly based on his pitch tonight! Anyone in
publishing knew the meaning of such a coup: ad agencies represented
dozens of businesses, and were the strategists who decided where to
invest their clients' money. And they liked his new magazine focus.
They were excited about the niche market of red-blooded men wanting
the straight dope in plain language. They thought it had great
advertising potential.
    Well, most of them liked it. He
remembered a few women in the meeting expressed discomfort with the
blatant macho-flavor of some of his planned articles. But even they
admitted there was probably a market for such things.
    The circulation numbers and the
revenue would prove the bottom-line truth about the popularity of
the new Men's Weekly . He wouldn't have those numbers in for
a couple more months. But ad agencies had their fingers on the
pulse of pop culture. They could smell a winner. They had to, to
stay in business.
    His magazine smelled good to
them.
    He suddenly had the strong urge to
tell Stanna about it. The memory of her snapping gray eyes made him
want to rub the ad agency victory in her face.
    Then he wondered what she was doing,
after business hours, and who she was doing it with. A beautiful
young blond on a Friday night pretty much had her pick of all sorts
of men. The thought bothered him a little, enough to dim his
satisfaction about the night's meeting. Stanna's chiseled pink
mouth pressed to another man's mouth. Just like
Jolene’s.
    She could kiss whoever she wanted, he
didn't care. He was annoyed that he'd even thought of it. He
supposed it was a guy territorial thing. They'd tongued each other,
so now she was part of his mental harem. It didn't mean a
thing.
    He climbed into his Jeep and enjoyed
the bass rumble of the souped-up engine roaring to life. As he
drove down Santa Monica Boulevard, he wondered if Stanna would go
out with him sometime. Her sweet body and hot-tempered mind
guaranteed an interesting evening. She probably wouldn't. She was
the type who preferred the tame, easily controlled, effeminate
type. The sort of guy who ate paste in third grade.
    Why was he even considering dating
that ball-buster?
    He had better things to think about.
Like planning the investment strategy of the agency money. Maybe
he'd buy a T.V. spot to promote Men's Weekly . Radio spots
and online ad campaigns. He could even afford to create some
marketing gimmicks like bikini contests or Men's Weekly nightclub themes for his readers.
    The magazine was going to take Los
Angeles by storm, in print and online. Despite Stanna's doubts.
Jake felt excitement coursing through his veins. A big grin split
his face and the exhaust-laden night air whipped around him as he
accelerated.
    Jake sped up the 405 on-ramp, easily
gaining freeway speed