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After Neal and Olivier’s chatter, I couldn’t resist a peep in the envelopes. Neal and Olivier wrote what I guess must have been their favorite versions of their gabbled hooks.
Neal’s is on the back of a note headed, ‘briefing sheet.’ It describes the phone’s unique features and the target demographic.
Marina Boudreaux is easy to find. She’s like the center of gravity. Calm, serene and in control in the middle of what seems like chaos, directed with military precision.
She smiles. When she looks at me, it’s like I’m the only person in the world who matters. That’s a real gift, and I’m brought up short, disarmed by her.
I tell her what I’ve brought and I hand her the envelopes, expecting her to thank me and dismiss me straight away.
“You’ve peeked at these,” she twinkles at me. My stomach drops. I closed the envelopes carefully. There’s no way she could know. Her smile brightens, and she leans forward confidentially. “I would have.”
“Okay,” I blink. “You got me.”
“So? Which one do you prefer?”
Her interest seems so sincere, before I even think about it, I’m telling her what I really think. She would make an unbeatable interrogator.
“I think they both miss the point.”
Her smile warms up and brightens.
I tell her, “The phone’s appeal is personal. It’s close, almost intimate. The hook lines are just bland marketing speak.”
“What should it say?”
I’m surprised, but I answer, “It should be about security. Warmth and comfort. Home.”
“Sounds good. How would you do that?”
I have no idea. But I start talking. She listens. My idea takes shape as I say, “Talk about home—The Only Phone: to get you home. To bring your friends and family home. To bring your dreams home. ”
“Oh.” She’s glowing. “Hmm. Okay.” Her eyelids bat. Then her face lights up.
“I know! You’ll take it out. I’ll give you an envelope. You’ll step out onto the stage and hand it to him.”
Him? My heart makes a hollow beat. Surely not…
“Wait… who’s, I mean, who do you want me to take it to?”
She smiles confidentially, “Only the God Emperor of Marketing.” Marina touches my shoulder. “Ram Steed.” The name rings a bell.
“In the middle of a fashion show?” I look down at my coveralls.
“Of course. We’ll get you some knockout designer clothes. You’ll have a fantastic time, I promise.”
I’m dreading that the him is going to be him. That the man I saw downstairs is her God Emperor of whatever it was. Her Ram Steed.
I think of little Amelia.
“I can’t do it,” I tell her. “I’d love to, but I have to leave. Soon.”
She asks, “What time?”
“In about an hour.” I take out my phone. “Midnight. Just over an hour. Hard deadline.” That’s the latest I can go to get back before Amelia’s babysitter leaves. “I absolutely have to leave then.”
She smiles. “No problem. Take your time to change. You’ll have plenty of time.”
Marina beckons a tall, slim man with extravagant hair. She introduces him as Paulo, then she tells him what she wants.
