Kimber Chin

What was she going to do? Dion rested her head down on the desk. Her first client, her first assignment, all eyes on her and now, this.

“Long day, young lady?”

She looked up. An elderly man stood in the doorway, backlit by the fluorescent hallway lights. He looked harmless enough, although stuck in some sort of crazy time warp with his bowler hat in hand, and his bigger than Elvis sideburns. “Yeah.”

“May I be of assistance?” Without waiting for her agreement, he sank into the guest chair.

“I suppose.” Dion doubted he could help, whoever he was, but it couldn’t hurt. “I’m Dion LaGrange. Started on Monday.”

“Harvey Karsen. Been here so long, I am part of the furniture.” No move to shake hands. “Now what seems to be the problem?” Dark eyes sparkled.

“This.” She slid the creative across the desk. Harvey Karsen? The name sounded familiar.

“Pimps,” he read, “Winner of the K.J. Excellence Award.” He twisted his moustache. “Sounds impressive.”

“Sure, if the award existed. There’s no such thing.” Dion heard the bitterness in her voice. “And the client insists on making that phoney claim.”

“I see.” Another twist of the moustache. “You do not agree?”

“Contrary to popular belief, there should be some truth in advertising.” Dion sighed. “But what can I do? They pay the bills.” If she lost this account…

“They are paying us to help build their business. Lying to the customer will not do that and I suspect they know this. So we have to ask ourselves, why would they take this desperate course of action?”

“To differentiate themselves.” Either that or they were scam artists.

“Then we help them do that in another way. Let us roll up our sleeves and get to work, shall we?”

And they did. All night. Karsen may have had a funky fashion style but he also had great ideas and unlimited energy. The elderly man disappeared only at daybreak, leaving Dion to fine tune the plan.

“You work all night, Miss LaGrange?” Trudy, her assistant, wandered in, bright eyed and perky. “Here alone?”

“Not exactly alone.” Dion stretched, her muscles cramped from sitting too long. “Harvey Karsen helped me out.”

“Ahhh… yes.” A laugh from Trudy. “Our founder. He remains with us always, doesn’t he? Even one hundred years later.”

One hundred years later but that would mean… No, it couldn’t be. Must be another Harvey Karsen. Although…

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Start Reading Nancy’s Story Here.

“Its hopeless.” Nancy slouched in defeat.

Patrick disagreed. “Its not hopeless.”

“Look at her.” The girl’s blonde hair picked up the light, glistening all around her perfect face. Nancy’s own hair, she ran her fingers through her short curls, she looked like a boy after Stanley’s dreadful haircut. “She’s beautiful.”

“She is.” Nancy didn’t get the denial she hoped for.

“That’s what I said. Hopeless.” Why even try to compete for Ted’s attentions?

“Look, Nancy. I don’t know about this Ted guy and what’s going on in his head, but I do know that when I’m happy with something, I stop looking.”

“Hhhmmm…” Nancy considered that theory. Dating new people was a lot of work, very stressful. Would someone go through all that when they already had the perfect woman?

“Ted’s still looking.”

Was the perfect woman not even enough? “Maybe he’ll always be looking.” Never satisfied with one person. A player.

“And maybe he hasn’t found the right girl yet.”

Was she the right girl? Nancy wished… “What can I offer Ted that she can’t?”

“That, my dear Nancy, is what you have to find out.”

Continue reading…

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Read more about a much older Nancy, Anne’s business partner, in Breach Of Trust, available May 2008.

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Start Reading Nancy’s Story Here.

Despite her resolution to stay cool and detached, Nancy was soon sucked into Ted’s struggles on the tables. What woman wouldn’t be? Watching men in their prime use strength and cunning to overcome their rivals.

As with this particular match.

The two players were evenly paired in skill and strength. Back and forth, back and forth, Ted and his opponent duked it out, the ball flying, the racquets an extension of their muscled arms. Perspiration dripped down their backs, grunts at each connection.

Finally Ted feigned a return to the right, only to send the ball flying to the left. His point. Nancy leapt to her feet, cheering.

It was then that she saw her, half a bleacher away, pony-tailed blonde hair bouncing, clapping wildly.

The other woman.

The girl turned her head, giving Nancy a questioning glance, and then unconcerned focused back on Ted. Why would she be concerned? Nancy glanced down at her less curvy figure. She was no threat.

She sat down with a thump, frowning.

“What is it?” Patrick, her pseudo date, asked.

“See that blonde?” Nancy nodded in her direction.

“The one with the crop top?”

“Yep.” As if her body didn’t get enough attention, she had to dress provocatively too. “That’s her.”

“Uh oh….” An expression of doom.

“Exactly.”

Continue reading…

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Read more about a much older Nancy, Anne’s business partner, in Breach Of Trust, available May 2008.

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