Everyone at the table sent her a blank stare.
Matt only smiled.
Annie tried again. “Let me ask you this. What gender buys most video games?”
“Male,” several guys at the table said in unison.
“Do you realize why video games are such a guy thing?”
Everyone still looked puzzled.
“Because men are visual,” Annie said. “But women are verbal. Women want to talk about things that are happening in their lives. When they talk about issues important to them, they want someone to listen and validate those issues with a supportive and positive response.”
When no one commented, Annie said, “Think about it. Technology has always been focused entirely on the male perspective. That’s why we have a female market out there just waiting to be tapped into. Joe Video will be everything a woman wants. He’ll listen when she wants him to listen. He’ll talk when she wants him to talk. He’ll always have the perfect response for any given situation. And he won’t make a mess or leave the toilet seat up.”
Gretchen, the tall, gangly redhead from art and filming, was the only one who laughed at her last statement, but it gave Annie the confidence she needed to continue.
“The fact is, we live in a techno-fanatic society today,” Annie said. “Instant gratification isn’t fast enough. Dial-up was too slow, so we now have high-speed online services. Cell phones were boring, so we added video screens and text messaging. And how dare anyone suggest we wait even one hour to have film developed. Digital cameras eliminated that pesky problem.”
She glanced at J.B. Duncan. He was leaning back in his chair, tapping a pencil against the table with one hand and stroking his manicured white beard with the other.
Annie said, “Whether we like it or not, patience has become a lost virtue in today’s society. So my question is, why not be the first to give women the instant perfect man?”
J.B. Duncan paused for a moment before he said, “My main concern is that you’ve been talking about techno conveniences, Miss Long. Convince me why you think the female population would embrace a techno fake boyfriend.”
Annie glanced at Matt. She was surprised that he didn’t jump to his feet and do a few excited backflips down the boardroom table.
She turned her attention back to her CEO and smiled. “I understand your concern, sir. But women have certainly embraced”—she held up one hand as she ticked off on three fingers—“fake tans, fake nails, and fake boobs.”
“And what about those fake hair extensions women use?” the guy from the sound department asked.
“Men have hair plugs, too,” Gretchen was quick to remind her male counterparts.
“Collagen injections, Botox, and liposuction.” Annie continued.
“And don’t forget Viagra,” Bill from the programming department said with a laugh. “That’s one instant motivator you can’t live without when you reach my age.”
Everyone laughed this time.
Annie spoke up again. “I’m not trying to paint a grim picture of life as we know it today, sir. I’m only trying to prove there is a place in today’s market for Joe Video. He’ll be exactly what a woman wants—the ideal substitute until her real Mr. Perfect comes along.”
Greg Wilson from advertising snickered. “I’m not trying to be crude, Annie, but the substitute market has already been tapped into. You can buy those substitutes in all shapes and sizes and with batteries included.”
“But have you ever seen any of those devices that could talk back to you, Greg?” Annie challenged.
Greg’s big grin disappeared. “Don’t tell me you intend to give a whole new meaning to the term ‘joystick.’”
Annie laughed. “No, of course, not. But Joe Video does offer a ‘Pleasure Me’ option.”
That comment sent everyone thumbing through the binder in a hurry. For the first time, Matt even turned a few pages.
Annie waited until everyone found the page before she said, “The basis for this option is actually a relaxation technique I learned in a sensitivity class I took back in college.” Tongue-in-cheek, she added, “Of course, with a hunky guy’s sultry voice leading you through the process of discovering the pleasure points of your own body, how a lady uses this exercise will be up to her.”
Gretchen said, “Explain the ‘Striptease Aerobics’ option outlined on page four.”
There was no way Annie was going to admit she and Collin had taken lessons from a gay male stripper last summer when Collin was trying to win an amateur striptease contest at Backstreet, his favorite gay bar. But both of them had been sore for weeks after they’d taken those lessons. Annie had even lost five pounds.
What she did say was, “Our goal is to give a woman everything she wants all in one package with this game, Gretchen. With Joe Video, she won’t need Pilates or a dozen other exercise tapes. Striptease aerobics will get her in touch with her sensuous side, and work her booty off at the same time.”
“It works for me,” Gretchen said.
Annie was mentally congratulating herself on how well everything was going when questions started flying at her from all directions.
Yes. She thought the game should be marketed for every venue possible. PCs, of course, and laptops. PlayStation 2 and Xbox, since what mom didn’t have access to those when she put Junior to bed? Now that the portable game players were becoming so popular, a woman on the go would never have to be without her best friend, Joe.
No. A computer-generated format simply wouldn’t do. An actor needed to play the role of Joe Video. Preferably someone unknown. Someone who wouldn’t expect an outrageous commission and who would be glad for the exposure. But gorgeous, of course. A cross between Antonio Banderas and Fabio, with a sexy accent. The kind of guy women everywhere fantasized about while their hubby or their boyfriend lay stretched out on the sofa with the remote in his hand.
Annie couldn’t resist sending Matt a sweet little smile when she finished making that statement.
When he glared back at her, Annie decided she definitely needed to make her will.
The questions continued for several more minutes. When they finally stopped coming, Annie was more than ready to make her run for the checkered flag waiting for her at the finish line.
On your mark.
Get set.
Go!
She’d almost made it when Matt stuck his leg out and tripped her. “Before Annie closes,” he said, “I’d like to bring up a few points of my own about Joe Video.”
Kudos to Annie, Matt thought sullenly. She’d managed to make her first run through the gauntlet without so much as a scratch.
So far.
But his ass was on the line here, too. Matt didn’t intend to become the laughingstock of the entire video game industry without at least putting up a good fight.
He looked around the room and grinned. “For the men in this room who are probably having a harder time than Annie and Gretchen understanding this female-focused concept, I thought in all fairness I should bring up a few points about this game from the male point of view.”
He almost laughed when Annie’s eyes narrowed.
He pointed to Bill from programming. “Bill, you’re married, right?”
“For the last twenty-five years,” Bill said with wan enthusiasm.
“Does the wife ever get irritated because she decides to tell you something about her sister’s neighbor’s cousin’s brother, and you couldn’t keep up with the conversation even if you weren’t trying to watch a Braves game on the tube?”
“For the last twenty-five years,” Bill repeated.
Everyone but Annie laughed.
Matt held up a finger. “But. Think about it, Bill. What if your wife had Joe Video? Joe would be the one listening and validating her concerns with those perfect responses Annie was talking about. And you’d be stretched out on your recliner munching chips and tossing back a few cold ones while you watched the game in peace.”
Bill’s face erupted into a wi
de grin. “How soon can we start production on this game?”
Everyone laughed again.
Except Annie.
Matt couldn’t resist. He smiled at her and winked.
He said, “I’m trying to point out that even though Joe Video is going to be targeted for women, he might turn out to be man’s best friend instead. Annie said it herself. Men aren’t verbal. So let Joe Video do the talking. Let him make all of those perfect responses. If you ask me, every husband and boyfriend on the planet should run out to buy Joe Video the second the game hits the shelves. He might finally get some peace and quiet.”
“Thank you, Matt,” Annie said, “for giving us another perspective on Joe Video, exaggerated as it was.”
Matt winked at her again. “Always glad to help.”
She dismissed him with a toss of her head and looked directly at J.B. Duncan. “Paragon has always had the reputation for being first when it comes to new and innovative game ideas, Mr. Duncan. Being a woman, I see Joe Video becoming today’s answer to the self-help craze of the eighties and the nineties. Only with Joe Video women won’t have to look in the mirror repeating positive statements to themselves. They’ll have a personal virtual soul mate to boost their ego for them.”
Back up the trolley, sweetheart.
Matt intended to have his final say, too.
“That’s our big dilemma, J.B.,” he said. “Being a man, I can’t see anything but the humorous side of this concept. My concern is that if Paragon does market this game, it could end up being the biggest joke in video game history.”
The silence was deafening.
It seemed like an eternity before J.B. Duncan looked in Matt’s direction. “Well, being the businessman I am, Matt, I don’t see your dilemma. Whether women embrace this game as their salvation, or whether men buy it for their ladies as a gag gift, sales are sales are sales.” He looked around the table. “High-concept. Cutting-edge. Brilliant. Joe Video is all that and a bag of chips, people.” He looked back at Matt. “I want you to forget the daredevil idea for now, Matt. Take the ball and run with Joe Video before someone else gets wind of this concept.”
Speechless, Matt looked across the table at Annie.
Annie looked as shocked as he felt.
But before Matt could argue, J.B. pointed to him and said, “Stand up a minute, Matt.”
Matt slowly rose to his feet, his head aching far worse than his pulled groin muscle ever had.
“Heads up, people,” J.B. said. “You are looking at the type of department head each and every one of you should aspire to be. I’ve always known Matt was a visionary. And he proved it here today. Not only did he recognize a great concept, but it’s obvious he’s looking ahead and grooming his staff to step effortlessly into his shoes when he makes the next big move up in this company. That’s vision, people. Learn from it.”
What?
Annie couldn’t believe her ears.
Matt could fall into a shit-filled vat and still come out smelling like one of Dave’s kiss-off roses that she’d thrown in the trash. Was she crazy? Or had the freaking CEO all but given Matt the promise of a big promotion for her high-concept, cutting-edge, brilliant idea?
I’m going to be sick.
She was going to throw up all over the place if she didn’t get out of that boardroom. And who would even notice? Everyone else had gathered around Matt in suck-up mode the second J.B. finished his speech. J.B. even had his arm around Matt’s shoulder now. And Matt was laughing heartily at something unhappily-married-for-twenty-five-years Bill was saying. More good ol’ boy jokes about Joe Video, no doubt.
I’m definitely going to be sick.
Annie bolted from the boardroom and ran past Kathy, who sent a startled look in her direction. She barely made it into the women’s bathroom and one of the stalls in time to keep from ruining the Manolos she’d worried might be her last pair ever. By the time she’d stumbled back to the bathroom sink to splash cold water on her face, Collin burst into the women’s bathroom as if he belonged there.
“Are you okay, Annie? Kathy said you ran out of the boardroom. Don’t tell me those bastards fired you.”
Annie jerked a paper towel from the dispenser. “Fire me?” She tried to laugh, but it came out as a croak. “Don’t be silly. J.B. was so thrilled with my Joe Video idea, he all but handed Matt the freaking key to the executive bathroom.”
Collin grimaced.
“Oh? And do you want to hear another lovely little twist? J.B. more or less gave Matt permission to market Joe Video as a gag gift. Sales are sales are sales, you know.”
Collin groaned. “Oh Annie. I’m so sorry.”
Annie squeezed her eyes shut, shaking her hands in front of her face as if that would keep her from crying. “Don’t console me, Collin. I can’t take it right now.”
When she finally got herself back together, she said, “Would you please go get my purse? I’m so emotionally drained my head might cave in. I don’t want to see Matt. Maybe not ever. But definitely not right now.”
When Collin left to get her purse, Annie leaned against the wall and banged her forehead against the cold tile, testing her cave-in theory. Talk about a day going to hell in a handbasket in a hurry. She’d been on an emotional roller coaster from the moment she’d arrived. First Dave’s betrayal. And now she’d been betrayed again by Matt and her CEO, who were determined to turn her idea into the gag gift of the century.
How much more can one person take?
“Here,” Collin said rushing back in to hand over her purse. “You don’t have to worry about bumping into Matt. Kathy said he just left with J.B. The old man’s taking Matt to dinner to celebrate.”
Annie’s envelope went over the ledge for real.
“It’s just so unfair,” she sobbed against Collin’s willing shoulder. “I’m the one who’s supposed to be celebrating tonight. Not Dave with some new girlfriend. And definitely not Matt getting credit for my idea.”
“I know,” Collin mumbled as he stroked her hair.
Annie pushed away from him. “Oh God, Collin. I just thought of something else. I can’t go home. Not to all the candles and the champagne and that stupid robe I bought for Dave spread out on my bed next to that damn black teddy I might as well throw in the trash.”
“You don’t have to go home,” Collin promised. “You’ll get to wear that teddy later for someone a lot more deserving than Dave.”
Annie shook her head. “No way. I’m through with men for the rest of my life. Trust me.”
“Déjà moo,” Collin warned.
Annie almost managed a smile.
“Come on, sweet cheeks,” Collin said, putting his arm around her shoulder. “I’m taking you to Backstreet. If there’s anything you need right now, it’s a tequila shooter to get you in a better frame of mind.”
Annie shook her head. “You know I always feel uncomfortable at Backstreet. I’ll really feel uncomfortable the way I’m dressed today. Look at me. I’ll stand out like Martha Stewart at a Spice Girls convention.” But she didn’t resist when Collin put his hands on her shoulders and pushed her toward the bathroom door.
“You look gorgeous,” Collin said as he kept pushing her toward the elevator. “Blatantly straight, yes. But that will keep me from having to babysit you every minute if someone happens to catch my eye.”
Annie cut her puffy eyes sideways in his direction. “But you wouldn’t run off with some hunk and leave me at Backstreet by myself, would you?”
Collin pushed the button that would take them to the parking garage. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’d never leave you in a million years and you know it.”
“Okay. But you can forget about any to-kill-ya shooters,” Annie said. “Tequila makes me crazy.”
Collin waved his hand in the air to pooh-pooh her statement. “After the day you’ve had? You’re already crazy, Annie. That gives you the freedom to drink whatever you want. I’ll drive and we’ll take the Black Knight,” he said, referring to the name h
e had given his sleek new black Mercedes sedan.
“You’re not listening, Collin. I don’t do drunk well.”
The elevator doors opened. When they stepped into the parking garage Annie said, “All I need is one glass of white wine to take the edge off.” She grabbed Collin’s arm. “Promise me, Collin. One glass of wine. Then you’ll take me to your place and let me crash.”
“Promise,” Collin said. “Trust me.”
CHAPTER 4
When Annie opened her eyes on Saturday morning, the first thing she thought was, Who is that horrible-looking creature plastered to the ceiling?
When her fuzzy brain cleared, she realized she was looking at her own reflection in the mirrored canopy above Collin’s extravagant French provincial four-poster bed.
She gasped.
And not just because she looked like a wild-eyed raccoon wearing a hideous frizzed-all-over clown wig. Something was moving beneath the covers.
And it isn’t me!
Annie held her breath.
She blew it out again when a familiar head popped out from beneath Collin’s elaborate designer comforter.
However.
The relieved blast from her morning-after-too-many-tequila-shooters breath caused Collin’s terror of a Chihuahua to wrinkle his little black nose in disgust, throw his head back, and howl loud enough to wake the dead.
“Elton John. Hush,” Annie begged, pressing against her throbbing temples. But she couldn’t really blame the poor pooch. Without a doubt, sometime during the night something had crawled inside her mouth, curled up, and died there.
Probably after I got hit by the truck, she thought, still too groggy to remember any specific details from the night before. But if your breath smelled like roadkill and your body ached all over, getting hit by a truck had to be the only explanation.
She pushed herself up on her elbows, her head still pounding like a bass drum in a marching band. When she pushed back the covers, she would have blushed if all the blood in her body hadn’t already been participating in the lively parade marching back and forth between her temples.
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