Page 50 of Mr. Perfect

“Right,” he mumbles, then sounds like he’s taking a long drink of something. Probably whiskey. “Well, I’m in Vegas.”

“Figures. You get lucky?”

He laughs. “With girls or with gambling?”

“Whichever.”

“Well, I didn’t get lucky with either because I’m here on business. You ever hear of Andrew Manco?”

“Why?” I growl, instantly pissed off at the mention of that jerk’s name.

“Oh, he’s got this fucking fabulous piece of tech, right? He was on one of your shows last week—”

Yeah. That’s why he was here. Asshole.

“—and he was demonstrating this virtual reality vacation thing. Amazing, dude. Just amazing. So I got the new club slash resort going up out near Borrego Springs and I was thinking of putting in one of his systems.”

“Like virtual sex?” I can’t even imagine what he is talking about.

“No, but that’s a great fucking idea. I’m gonna ask him about it the next time I see him.”

“You know him?”

“Oh, I guess. I saw him Friday night. Here in Vegas.”

“Vegas. That fucker took her to Vegas?”

“Took who?”

“Ellie. The girl I’m calling about.”

“I knew you were calling about a girl. Dumbass. She’s dating Andrew Manco? How old is she? He’s kinda young, right? Got that whole college start-up thing going these days.”

“Right? And she’s twenty-seven.”

“Cougar action. Huh.”

“Did you see her? She’s medium height, cute as fuck, shoulder-length blonde hair, and she might’ve been wearing a very tight pink pencil dress that I bought her.”

“Nah, he was alone on Friday. I didn’t talk to him Saturday or Sunday, too many people around his booth—”

“What booth?”

“At the tech convention. He was keynote and they had this great demo afterward. Don’t you watch your own shows? That’s why he was on last week. Big tech convo in Vegas. All the latest shit. And I swear, I’m putting in an order for that VR setup on Monday. I got big plans, Mac. Big, big plans. Hey, you know anyone who might be a good candidate to manage a new place in the desert? My main chick just quit. Says I’m, quote, ‘Incorrigible, have ineradicably deviant sexual tendencies, and a personality akin to American Psycho.’ Unquote. Bitch. She should meet Mr. Mysterious. Then she’d really know what all those fancy words mean. Don’t ever have an office fling, Mac. They always fuck you over in the end.”

Jesus. Why did I call him? Who the hell would take girl advice from Nolan Delaney? “Who would I know?” I say, ignoring his weird outburst about sexual tendencies as well as his ‘advice’. “I’ve been out of the loop for ten years. Call Mr. Corporate.”

“Yeah, I’m gonna have to, I think. I haven’t talked to him in over a year, but he’s got all the connections I need right now. Mr. Fucking Corporate.”

“So no Ellie, huh? Not even hanging around the periphery?”

“Nah, no girls in his booth. Just nerdy tech guys. And definitely no hot little blondes hanging near the virtual reality shit.”

“Hmmm.”

“Was she supposed to be there?”

“Yeah.” I sigh. “OK, well, it was great catching up. I’ll talk to you soon. And good luck with the… whatever it is.”