Chapter 7: Bubbly

Ms. Sloane, in her attempt to extracticate me from what Trish McGovern was telling her friends was, “Engaged to be engaged,” was doing what Peggy and Pru did when soliciting new business for BB. They do extensive research. Study the history and background and backdrop, that sort of thing, of the company they’re after. The company and the industry.

Auntie Pru often disappears behind a closed office door for a week or two, sometimes longer. She and my mother work with the Creative Director and develop the presentation.

It must be a successful strategy because we pop a lot of Champagne corks. Every time BB lands a new client, the whole office celebrates. Even if it’s 10 in the AM.

Ms. Sloane seemed to be following similar breadcrumbs in what I now thought of as the McGovern Campaign.

“Birdie, did you and Ms. McGovern ... growing up, were you close?”

“Oui. Tréy close.”

“Example?”

“Well ... you know how some folks, archeologists and such, extrapolate that girls mature sooner than boys?”

“Go on.”

“Trish was the one that taught Froggy and me how to ... um, you know.” Oops.

Ms. Sloane tilted her head. Looking at me much like my mother and a certain aunt do from time to time. It’s a look that says ‘don’t dick around, tell me all.’ Or else.

“Masturbate.” I sort of gushed it out, not a subject about which I now wished had never burbled to the surface, topic-wise...

“Oh?”

“She found out, discovered, porn. Taught Froggy and me how to surf ... and ... you know.”

“And masturbate.”

I nodded, somewhat reluctantly. No reason to birddog the same prairie time and again.

Ms. Sloane looked at me speculatively, “And when Ms. McGovern wasn’t around?”

“Huh?”

“Did you and your Mr. Froggy continue your ... homework?”

“Huh?”

Ms. Sloane leaned back in her chair, crossed her arms. God, do women take classes in this?

I stood straighter. “Hardly.” I looked away from her gaze, “Very rarely. Barely ever. Almost never.”

Now I may not have been steering strictly between the guardrails. In fact, I may have careened over the side of the cliff if that’s the analog I’m looking for. Ever since Trish taught Froggy and me how to ... I mean, she was so encouraging ... plus it felt so good.

Ms. Sloane seemed to be fighting a smile, “Still?”

“What! Of course not! I’m 24 years old!”

“Hmm.”

Sometimes a stormy cloud can lead to a rainbow. In other words, what seemed, at first blush, to be a spot of bother, can turn into something positive.

That damnable Streetcar Video is what I’m thinking of. And the U-Turn from bad vibes to good ones began with that photo of me that ran in the Star. Now the Kansas City Star comes out every day, but it’s not the only rag in town.