REBUILDING FOREVER
----
Cassie Bryant's assistant, Beth, entered her office without knocking and flicked on the TV in the corner.
"Beth, I'm in the middle of a budget review!"
"You have to see this."
Cassie shook her head and bent back over the spreadsheets on her desk. "We need to increase the transportation budget," she told her boss's face on her computer screen. She was video-conferencing with the head of the Aquila Foundation between her office in Harrisburg, Pennsylvania, and his winter condo in Boca Raton. "Fuel costs have gone up again."
"We'll need to reduce something else," he countered, his head bent over his own set of papers. He stopped writing and looked up with a frown. "Is that the television?"
"Beth, please," Cassie hissed, then went still. "What is that?"
"That," Beth said in a voice of doom, pointing the remote at the television, "is the rest of your life."
"Sir, may we please resume this later?"
Her boss must have seen something in her face because he didn't argue. "We can trim from the advertising and media relations budgets and find additional no-cost avenues for those. Then I think that will do it. I'll contact you on Friday."
"Thank you, sir."
Cassie clicked the button to close the video screen and stood, her eyes still on the scene on TV. "Tell me that's Justin Timberlake."
"That's not Justin Timberlake."
"Maybe it's Fitty Cent."
Beth snorted. "Not unless Fitty Cent has grown green bangs."
Cassie stepped closer to the TV, still attempting denial. "They could be imposters."
"You mean impersonators?"
"Yeah, that." But she didn't bother waiting for Beth's answer. She knew damned well who that was on the screen, holding a woman in each arm and kissing one on the cheek while the other stroked her hand across his shiny, electric-blue shirt.
But Julian Manchester, keyboardist and notorious ladies' man for the re-formed 80s band Blue Silver, wasn't the problem. His best mate, Blue Silver's lead singer, Seth Graham, was.
Cassie wasn't ready to address her fiancé's similar arm-drapery, or the tongue that was in his ear. "Does Georgie know about this?"
Beth shrugged. "I don't work for Georgie." She turned up the volume. The entertainment network's reporter said, in voice-over, "Silverettes are back in style, as Blue Silver returns to the stage. After the success of their new album and last year's club tour, the neo-retro musicians have rediscovered their core audience."
Cassie grabbed the phone headset off her desk and sank onto the arm of the battered sofa in front of the television. "Georgie Davis," she said, and the phone automatically dialed.
"Led by Julian Manchester, the boys- cum -men have been out on the town in London this evening, and appear to have returned to their previous lifestyle."
Cassie realized now that the footage was in front of a nightclub. Julian lifted an arm to open the door of a long black limo, while Seth turned his head to talk to someone behind him--Brad, she saw, who at least had his girlfriend Marci wrapped around him.
"Hello?"
"Georgie, Cassie. Turn on that entertainment network we both hate."
"Uh, oh."
A second later she heard an echo of the show behind Georgie's voice. "What am I not going to--oh."
"Yeah."
They watched in silence as one of the blondies clinging to Seth bit his neck. Marci swatted at her and looked like she would rather have slugged her, but was conscious of the cameras on them.
"Aren't they in London?" Georgie asked. "It's midnight over there, right?"
"About that, yeah."
"When did Marci go over?"
"Last week. She can work from anywhere, you know. Brad called, she went." Marci had admitted to them last summer, when they'd reconnected in their attempt to see the band, that she ran a phone sex company. "She's going to tear that bitch apart."
"You sound so bloodthirsty," Georgie teased. "Don't you trust your rock star fiancé?"
Cassie ground her teeth. She did trust Seth. He'd been and done a lot of things in their first short,
----
Cassie Bryant's assistant, Beth, entered her office without knocking and flicked on the TV in the corner.
"Beth, I'm in the middle of a budget review!"
"You have to see this."
Cassie shook her head and bent back over the spreadsheets on her desk. "We need to increase the transportation budget," she told her boss's face on her computer screen. She was video-conferencing with the head of the Aquila Foundation between her office in Harrisburg, Pennsylvania, and his winter condo in Boca Raton. "Fuel costs have gone up again."
"We'll need to reduce something else," he countered, his head bent over his own set of papers. He stopped writing and looked up with a frown. "Is that the television?"
"Beth, please," Cassie hissed, then went still. "What is that?"
"That," Beth said in a voice of doom, pointing the remote at the television, "is the rest of your life."
"Sir, may we please resume this later?"
Her boss must have seen something in her face because he didn't argue. "We can trim from the advertising and media relations budgets and find additional no-cost avenues for those. Then I think that will do it. I'll contact you on Friday."
"Thank you, sir."
Cassie clicked the button to close the video screen and stood, her eyes still on the scene on TV. "Tell me that's Justin Timberlake."
"That's not Justin Timberlake."
"Maybe it's Fitty Cent."
Beth snorted. "Not unless Fitty Cent has grown green bangs."
Cassie stepped closer to the TV, still attempting denial. "They could be imposters."
"You mean impersonators?"
"Yeah, that." But she didn't bother waiting for Beth's answer. She knew damned well who that was on the screen, holding a woman in each arm and kissing one on the cheek while the other stroked her hand across his shiny, electric-blue shirt.
But Julian Manchester, keyboardist and notorious ladies' man for the re-formed 80s band Blue Silver, wasn't the problem. His best mate, Blue Silver's lead singer, Seth Graham, was.
Cassie wasn't ready to address her fiancé's similar arm-drapery, or the tongue that was in his ear. "Does Georgie know about this?"
Beth shrugged. "I don't work for Georgie." She turned up the volume. The entertainment network's reporter said, in voice-over, "Silverettes are back in style, as Blue Silver returns to the stage. After the success of their new album and last year's club tour, the neo-retro musicians have rediscovered their core audience."
Cassie grabbed the phone headset off her desk and sank onto the arm of the battered sofa in front of the television. "Georgie Davis," she said, and the phone automatically dialed.
"Led by Julian Manchester, the boys- cum -men have been out on the town in London this evening, and appear to have returned to their previous lifestyle."
Cassie realized now that the footage was in front of a nightclub. Julian lifted an arm to open the door of a long black limo, while Seth turned his head to talk to someone behind him--Brad, she saw, who at least had his girlfriend Marci wrapped around him.
"Hello?"
"Georgie, Cassie. Turn on that entertainment network we both hate."
"Uh, oh."
A second later she heard an echo of the show behind Georgie's voice. "What am I not going to--oh."
"Yeah."
They watched in silence as one of the blondies clinging to Seth bit his neck. Marci swatted at her and looked like she would rather have slugged her, but was conscious of the cameras on them.
"Aren't they in London?" Georgie asked. "It's midnight over there, right?"
"About that, yeah."
"When did Marci go over?"
"Last week. She can work from anywhere, you know. Brad called, she went." Marci had admitted to them last summer, when they'd reconnected in their attempt to see the band, that she ran a phone sex company. "She's going to tear that bitch apart."
"You sound so bloodthirsty," Georgie teased. "Don't you trust your rock star fiancé?"
Cassie ground her teeth. She did trust Seth. He'd been and done a lot of things in their first short,
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