Chapter 2

As we rode up in the elevator, Mel was obviously excited about the invitation to the Watkins and Elgar party, one of LA's top advertising firms. "You know, Angela Stewart's a senior executive with Watkins and Elgar, and she's on the Association board, too. She must have been really impressed by my presentation."

I agreed that undoubtedly she was impressed with his presentation. We packed our bags, then had the bellboy drop them at the front desk. When we got to the suite, Angela came up with drinks in her hand greeting us. "Mel, Art glad you could come," she said, handing us the drinks. "They're margaritas. Hope that's all right," smiling. When she asked if we were interested in meeting members of the LA advertising community, Mel said he definitely was, while I told her I'd just wait a while.

As Angela led Mel into the crowd, I was able to get a better look at her. A little older than me, I guessed around 40, she was attractive, but not what you would call beautiful. She had that professional woman look, wearing a white blouse with a small red tie, dark slacks and high heels, which showed off her slim waist and shapely butt. Earlier, she had been wearing a gray jacket, but it was off now, no doubt a concession to the warmth of the crowded room. Despite her green eyes, her hair wasn't really red, more of bronze color, neatly styled, just touching her shoulders.

I was standing by myself, the drink in my hand, still untasted, when Angela returned. She looked younger now as her bright green eyes looked directly into mine, "Don't you like your drink? I know I need one now, it's so hot in here."

I wasn't much of a drinker - usually I'd just have a light beer - but, I told her the drink was fine. As she turned toward the bar, I took a couple of quick swallows of the margarita. Returning with a drink in each hand, "I got another one for you," Angela said, smiling.

"What's going on?" I thought to myself, "Is she trying to get me drunk?" I downed the rest of my drink, experiencing a momentary rush from the alcohol. Angela handed me another margarita, which I held for a moment before taking a small sip.

"If you'd like to meet anyone - anyone in the Association, any big guns, let me know," Angela said, smiling.

"That's more in Mel's line than mine," I said, taking another sip of margarita.

"You're not interested in networking in our Los Angeles advertising community? Why's that, Art?"

As she looked directly into my eyes, I somehow felt compelled to reveal things about myself I usually kept private. "Uh... well, a few years ago, I... my wife and I, we got divorced. My wife left me... uh... for... uh... for another man. Uh... since then, I've kind of lost interest. I guess... uh... I'm kind of just coasting."

"Oh, that's a shame. I can't believe any woman could do that to you, Art. Did you... do you have any children?"

Taking another swallow of margarita, "No, that was lucky. It was lucky we didn't have any kids... uh, you know, splitting up and everything... uh, it's not good for kids." I don't know why I suddenly became so hesitant, so awkward. Maybe it was because I was speaking to a stranger about things I usually kept bottled up inside myself. Though, I still felt that compulsion to reveal myself to Angela.

Staring into my eyes, "Would you like to talk some more, Art? Let's go to my room, it's just across the hall. We can talk, and it'll be cooler there."

She took my arm, and without speaking, I let her lead me to her suite.

As I sat on the sofa in Angela's suite, she took my almost empty glass. "Let me freshen that up for you," she said, taking a small pitcher of margaritas from the bar refrigerator.

"Do you have any children?" I asked Angela as she sat next to me.

Smiling, "Two daughters, both teenagers. You can guess they're a handful, especially without a father around. And, you know, you're right. Divorce is hard on children, but my girls seem to be able to handle it."

I took a swallow of margarita. This was my third drink, and I was beginning to feel the alcohol affecting me. Beyond that, a strange fuzzy feeling was creeping over me, a feeling of presque vue - like I was only halfway there.

"You look tired, Arthur," Angela said, staring into my eyes. "Haven't you been sleeping well?"

"I... I've been dreaming a lot. It's... the... a... it's a dream I've been having. Three nights now I've been dreaming the dream."