AD-versaries (2 page)

3

            There was no shortage of laughter at O’Shea’s Irish Pub as Neville regaled all who would hear with stories of his advertising conquests.  Never one to turn down a moment in the spotlight, Neville soaked up every ounce of admiration that was thrown his way, whether feigned or genuine.  The conclusion of his story was met with cheers and pats on the back.  Sammy came up beside him, through one arm around his shoulders and with the other raised a small glass filled with Jameson. 

            “To Neville Pearson: the greatest adman that ever lived.”

            More cheers, then immediately silence as everyone gulped down their shot.  Once the whiskey got past the gag reflex, everyone resumed their conversations.  Neville sat at the bar and tuned out most of the talking.  Reveling in the adoration was fun up to a point.  But it inevitably wore on him.  As much as it was to be loved by so many people, at the end of the day, he would be going home alone. 

            His father had so much about his career and building PMZ that he had sacrificed everything he had, including his family.  Neville’s mom had moved out when he was eight years old, taking Neville with her.  Stanley Pearson never had so much as a twinge of regret.  His priorities were set and his goals in focus.  He wasn’t about to let a silly thing like family stand in the way of his success.

            But Neville was different.  He yearned for companionship, for love.  He wanted to share every aspect of his life with someone, the ups and downs.  He wanted to go home to somebody and have that person kiss him goodbye as he set out to work.  He wanted picnics and park strolls.  He wanted love. 

            He was well aware of the fact that his yearning for romance would be misconstrued as weakness and even labeled as ‘girly’ amongst his coworkers.  So he kept his desires quiet, which only accentuated his solitude.  Still tuning out his compadres, Neville glanced around the bar, passively looking at the other patrons.  Most were engaged in idle conversation, although there were a few select guys sitting off by themselves, each looking as miserable as the other.  Neville considered gathering them all together so as to commiserate as a group.  Although, it occurred to him that he didn’t know the nature of the other guys’ sorrow.  It could be that one of them lost a family member, or dog.  Either way, engaging someone in merry chitchat would be insensitive to someone who just suffered a loss, whether human or animal. 

            The front door swiped the bells that were hanging above it, signaling the arrival of new customers.  Neville turned to see if perhaps someone else was coming to congratulate him on his big deal.  But what he saw instead wide his eyes widen with shock.  A beautiful woman came walking through the door.  The vacuum created by the opening of the door forced a little breeze past Neville’s head taking the wind from his lungs rendering him incapable of speech or breath. 

            He had never seen someone as gorgeous as the angel that had walked in.  Yet, it wasn’t a physical trait that made her beautiful, but rather the innocence of her pure heart that radiated from her every move.  This woman was untouched by greed and corruption.  She wasn’t power hungry or obsessed with money.  In the business world, Neville had dealt with shady characters of all kinds, men and women, but this woman was different.  He was completely captivated by her.  He had never experienced a feeling this strong.  There was something special about that woman. 

4

            Victoria and Sarah made their way through the crowded bar and found a table towards the middle of the room.  Victoria didn’t care much for the bar scene, preferring instead the quiet solitude of home.  Still, she wanted to indulge Sarah.  After all, this celebration was as much for Sarah as it was for Victoria.  She would be completely lost without her faithful assistant.  Her victories were Sarah’s, so she would sit through the loud music and terrible pick-up lines from the sad, single men in order to show her appreciation for her friend.

            “Cheer up, Vic.  You look like you just came from the funerals of your cat, dog, and parents, all rolled into one sad day at the cemetery.”

            “That’s a happy picture.”

            “Sorry, but you know what I mean.  You just closed another deal.  That’s one more month we get to keep our jobs.”

            “Aren’t you tired of just making it month to month?”

            Sarah considered that for a moment before she answered.  “It’s not the most ideal way to live.  But it works.  And it won’t always be this way.”

            The waitress came by for their drink order.  Sarah ordered an apple-tini, while Victoria opted for water with lime.  She never drank when she was in public lest she find herself mentally compromised when being hit on by one of the sad, single guys who inevitably found themselves stopping by her table for a quick hello.  She hated shooting down possible suitors, but she knew that any guy worth his salt wouldn’t be found slinking around a bar.  Her standards were higher than that and she was completely unwilling to compromise on that.

            “I appreciate your optimism, Sarah, I really do.  But I’m starting to think that the big one will never come.  I don’t know why I keep working so hard, I never get any closer to a deal that’s worth anything.”

            “You just signed the Shawarma Palace.  That’s your fifth deal this month!”

            “And it just barely paid the bills.  If we keep this up, we’re going to find ourselves living in a box, panhandling on Fifth Avenue just to be able to eat one meal a day.”

            “Well, just look at it this way…With your good looks you would make a killing at panhandling.  And I could manage your income!”

            Victoria laughed at the thought of the two of them in hobo clothes sitting on the sidewalk, her with a beggar’s cup and Sarah with a ledger, carefully recording every penny that entered the cup. 

            “Don’t look now, but that guy that’s been staring at you since you came in is still at it.”

            Victoria looked over at the bar and saw a good-looking guy looking back at her.  As their eyes met, he quickly looked away.  He didn’t seem the type to embarrass easily.  Perhaps there was a humility about him that stayed well-hidden from his drinking buddies.  Everyone around him occasionally came up and patted him on the back or shook his hand.  He didn’t seem embarrassed about the adulation.

            She knew the type.  He was no different than anyone else she had ever met in a bar.  So self-absorbed that he had no idea how to appreciate anyone or anything; he wasn’t worth her time. 

            “You gotta admit, Vic, he’s kinda cute.”

            “Sure, but take away the chiseled jawline and model-like physique and you have nothing left but a self-centered jerk with a perfect head of hair.”

5

            Pouring through the paper on his desk, Neville was putting on the appearance of busyness as opposed to actually doing something constructive.  He was having a hard time shaking the empty feeling that had come over him the previous night at O’Shea’s.  He had been lonely before, but this time seemed deeper, more profound.  Perhaps his biological clock was ticking and this was his mind’s way of saying that it’s ready to settle down. 

            Now, in the light of a new day, with potential and new opportunities presenting themselves at every turn, his emotional longing for companionship and love seemed foolish and child-like; the stuff of dreams.  A relationship would do nothing more than slow down his career and keep him from attaining his dream of senior partner.  He had worked entirely too hard to allow anything, or anyone, to block his path.

            Having sufficiently convinced himself that he needed neither love nor affection from any one person, Neville focused on the papers scattered on his desk.  They were a mix of copy for some new ad campaigns he was running and leads for new clients.  He didn’t remember how he had gotten them so mixed up and was a little frustrated with the disorganization he was showing that particular morning. 

           
Breet, breet.

           
The phone on his desk made the soft chirping sound that signified he was being called from inside the building.  He picked up the receiver and gave a ‘hello’ that came out less cheery than he had intended.

            “Neville? It’s Stanley.”  He never called himself dad at the office.  He didn’t want people to think that he would hand out special treatment to Neville just because they were related.  Besides, he hadn’t been a dad for most of Neville’s life, why would he start now?

            “Yes, sir.  What can I do for you this fine, sunny morning?”  Ok, now he was trying too hard to sound aloof.

            “Are you ok, Neville?  Are you drinking at work?”

            “No, Stanley.  I’m just busy this morning.  That’s all.”

            “Oh.  Well.  Come upstairs.  I need to talk to you in person.”

            “Alright.  I’ll be up in a few minutes.”

            A click on the other end signified that Stanley was through with the conversation.  Neville straightened the papers on his desk into nice piles, separated now by category of importance.  He was loathe to leave his desk a mess, lest anyone should happen into his office and think him a disorganized slob.  He couldn’t allow people to see him as anything less than he was: an uber-successful adman with potential to spare.

            He boarded the elevator and began his ascent to the top floor.  There was something about himself that he didn’t quite understand, a funk that he couldn’t shake.  He knew that it was ridiculous, but his mind kept drifting back to the girl that he saw last night.  He remembered how he averted his gaze when she caught him looking at her.  There was no reason to feel ashamed or embarrassed, he was Neville Pearson.  He could have any girl he wanted. 

            But shame accompanied that last thought.  She was not like any other girl.  She wasn’t a conquest or a trophy.  She was special.  He kicked himself for not being manly enough to go over there and get her number; even though she probably wouldn’t have given it to him anyways.  She would have seen right through his pretentiousness and laughed him aside.  She deserved better than him.

            Neville seized control of his thoughts.  Any girl would be lucky to have him.  Where was his confidence going?  These feelings of inadequacy were new and frightening.  There really wasn’t enough evidence to support him
not
going to the nuthouse and checking himself in for an evaluation.  

            The elevator doors slid open and Neville turned right and headed to the end of the hall where his father’s office occupied a great deal of the corner of that floor.  There were actually two parts to the office.  The first part was inhabited by a horrible old woman sitting at the desk, waiting for people to come in like a troll waits under a bridge for unsuspecting toll-payers.  She had the sunny disposition of a rattlesnake whose tail had just been stepped on after resurging from its hole and recovering from a long bout with the flu. 

            Margery was her name.  Neville didn’t really know how old she was.  Her appearance seemed to age her beyond her years as untold decades of smoking had left her skin wrinkled and saggy, giving her the unfortunate visage of a shar-pei.  She never spoke first, giving whoever dared enter her domain the uncomfortable task of announcing themselves and their intentions.  Neville was used to this and had no problem sounding his own arrival.    

            “I’m here to see Stanley.”

            “And who may I say is here?”  Her voice was more abrasive than her personality.

            “It’s me, Neville.  His son.”

            “Do you have an appointment?”

            Neville shook his head at the absurdity of the questioning.  He put his hands on the desk, ready to lay into the crazy hag when the door to his left opened and his father stepped into the room.

            “It’s ok, Margery.  I’ll see him now.”

            She simply nodded her head, the wrinkles on her face sagging and recoiling with the movement.  He followed his father into the office and shut the door behind him.

            “You really should think about getting a new secretary.  No offense, but I think it’s time to put old Margery out to pasture.”  He laughed to himself at the inference that Margery was a cow, but quickly regained composure. 

            “Oh, she’s harmless.  She’s been with the company for years.  I can’t just let her go.”

            “Well if you’re waiting for her to die, I’m afraid she might outlive you.  She’s got enough alcohol in her that she’s well preserved from the inside out.  I don’t know how the tobacco hasn’t killed her yet.  Maybe she’s like a cockroach and will outlive us all.”

            Stanley let a little chuckle out into the air, like a single bubble released from a wand, suspended for a moment then popping to reveal emptiness and silence once again.

            “Sit down, Neville.  I’ve got something important for you.”

            He took his seat across the desk from Stanley, crossed his legs and waited.

            “There’s a new player in the world of smart phones, a guy named Niroki.  Supposedly he’s got a product that will put all previous smart phones to shame, the iphone, android; whatever else they’ve got out there these days.  Either way, you’re pretty good with the technology accounts, being younger than a lot of the other guys, so I want you to take the lead on this one.”

            “Great.  When’s he coming in?”

            “Well, here’s the thing.  We don’t have the account yet.”  Neville looked a little confused at this revelation.  “We just got word that he’s shopping around for an agency and I want you to go to him first, kind of a preemptive strike, if you will.”

            “You want me to cold-call him?”  Stanley didn’t like the implication that his son was too good to do the leg work.

            “This is how it was done back in the day, Neville.  This is what built this company.  I didn’t have people walking up to me, begging me to represent them.  I had to go out and fight for it.  It would do you good to get out there and do the same.”

            Neville considered this for a moment. Then: “How much is he looking to spend?”

            “That’s the best part.”  An almost girlish giggle preceded Stanley’s next thought.  “He wants to launch a billion dollar, world-wide campaign.”

            Stanley laughed, Neville sat motionless.  A billion dollar campaign.  World-wide.  This was the stuff that made dreams come true.  This could set him up for the rest of his life.  He stood from his chair, dumbly nodded his head, and went to the door.  As he opened it to leave, Stanley called to him.

            “Listen to me, Neville.  This is a once-in-a-lifetime account.  I’m putting myself on the line here by recommending you for the job.  Don’t let me down.”

            Another dumb nod and Neville left the office.  Passing Margery he heard her say, “Have a nice day.”  Which, coming from her, sounded more like an insult than a pleasant dismissal.  He mindlessly waved a hand in her direction as if attempting to wave goodbye, then walked out the door. 

            The elevator couldn’t go any slower.  Neville shifted and fidgeted, nervous and excited all at once.  There would be so much to get started on, strategies to plan, proposals to draw up.  He didn’t wait for the doors to fully open on his floor as he slid from the elevator and immediately began yelling for Sammy.

            He made a bee-line for his office, yelling the entire way.  “SAMMY!”  The staff could do nothing more than stare in wonderment.  Perhaps he had finally lost his mind.  It wouldn’t have surprised any of them.  In truth, they had been expecting his mental collapse for years.  It was only a matter of time before the pressure of being the senior partner’s son would weigh on him to the point of breaking him. 

            Neville arrived at his office door at the same time that Sammy, panting and sweating, came running up. 

            “What’s up?”  The words came out as a whisper as Sammy bent over with exhaustion, like he had just finished a marathon.

            “Wow.  You really need to start working out,” Neville said with raised eyebrows.

            “It’s a big floor and all I had to go on was your voice.  You could have said, ‘meet me in my office,’ or ‘don’t hurry, just get here when you can.’  But running through the office screaming my name?  Of course I’m gonna come running.”

            “Come in here.  We have some work to do.”

            Neville led Sammy into the office and shut the door behind him.