Chapter 1
"We'll have a whole new graphics package ready for you by noon tomorrow, Geoffrey. I'll bring it to lunch at Laffite." Affton laid on the charm, smoothing the waters as well as he could.
Richard Chalmers was one of Fillian Commercial's biggest clients and he was not going to disappoint the man.
"I'll see you there. I'm looking forward to it."
He hung up, grabbed the file, and headed to the graphics department. Heads were going to roll and then no one was going home until the graphics had been fixed. They looked nothing like what the client had asked for, or for that matter, like what they'd pitched to Geoffrey in the first place.
The graphics department was a floor down and Affton strode down the stairs, building his head of steam as he went. They were a billion dollar advertising agency and this kind of mistake was not on. The graphics department had its own wing, but was otherwise open concept, so he was able to start yelling as soon as he was in the door.
"I want everyone responsible for so much as a dot on the Chalmers account in front of me in the next thirty seconds."
The artists and computer geeks looked up, the place like a warren with little meerkats popping up and down.
"Twenty seconds. Why is no one running like their lives depend on it? 'Cause I swear to fucking God, your job does."
"Seriously? Last time I checked I didn't jump like a dog when someone barked." A round, brightly colored, fierce woman looked at him through cat-eyed glasses. "Suits."
"This suit can fire your ass like that." He snapped his fingers. "The Chalmers account is one of our biggest and the client is anything but happy. I'm not playing here, people." He opened the file and began reading off the names from the graphics department who were associated with the file. "Louise Belmar. Donald Scarp. Ilia Warken. Luke Addis..." His voice faded away. Luke Addison? No fucking way. Not his Luke Addison.
Though, Affton supposed that he'd lost any right to call Luke his the day the man had packed up and walked out on him without a single explanation.
He looked up, eyes narrowing.
"I'm Louise. Ilia's not here today." She stood up to him, unafraid. "What's the problem?"
"Did you read the client's specs on the latest campaign? Because what you turned in doesn't even come close. It's not even in the same ballpark. And where the fuck are Donald and Luke?"
"The problem is the idiot who came up with the concept is either blind, stupid, or a rhinoceros." That was Luke. His Luke, looking tiny in a pair of hip-hop jeans and a gigantic sweatshirt. "Donald spent two weeks trying to make those things work. It's a shit concept."
Affton couldn't fucking believe Luke was standing there, looking fierce as hell. He felt like he'd been hit over the head with a brick, or was having a stroke or something. It was all he could do to focus on the problem at hand. "I don't care if it's a shit concept, it's the concept that the client came to us with. Not to mention, I didn't get one single fucking memo letting me know anyone was having trouble with this fucking campaign." He kept telling himself to ignore the fact that this was his Luke Addison. Why hadn't he known the man worked for Fillian now?
Louise looked at Luke, who looked back and shrugged. "I just animate what I'm given, Lou. My contract states I never have to deal with the executives. That's your job." Then Luke just walked away.
Affton's mouth dropped open as once again, Luke walked away from him like he didn't even exist.
"This needs to be fixed," he snarled to Louise, the only one still left. "By noon tomorrow. I don't care if the arty farty types think it's a bad idea or isn't creative enough. It's what the client wants and if it isn't on my desk by noon everyone on this project is fired because we can't pay you if we lose our best customers because you people can't be arsed to give them what they've asked for." He slammed the client file on the closest desk and stomped off.
Goddamn
"We'll have a whole new graphics package ready for you by noon tomorrow, Geoffrey. I'll bring it to lunch at Laffite." Affton laid on the charm, smoothing the waters as well as he could.
Richard Chalmers was one of Fillian Commercial's biggest clients and he was not going to disappoint the man.
"I'll see you there. I'm looking forward to it."
He hung up, grabbed the file, and headed to the graphics department. Heads were going to roll and then no one was going home until the graphics had been fixed. They looked nothing like what the client had asked for, or for that matter, like what they'd pitched to Geoffrey in the first place.
The graphics department was a floor down and Affton strode down the stairs, building his head of steam as he went. They were a billion dollar advertising agency and this kind of mistake was not on. The graphics department had its own wing, but was otherwise open concept, so he was able to start yelling as soon as he was in the door.
"I want everyone responsible for so much as a dot on the Chalmers account in front of me in the next thirty seconds."
The artists and computer geeks looked up, the place like a warren with little meerkats popping up and down.
"Twenty seconds. Why is no one running like their lives depend on it? 'Cause I swear to fucking God, your job does."
"Seriously? Last time I checked I didn't jump like a dog when someone barked." A round, brightly colored, fierce woman looked at him through cat-eyed glasses. "Suits."
"This suit can fire your ass like that." He snapped his fingers. "The Chalmers account is one of our biggest and the client is anything but happy. I'm not playing here, people." He opened the file and began reading off the names from the graphics department who were associated with the file. "Louise Belmar. Donald Scarp. Ilia Warken. Luke Addis..." His voice faded away. Luke Addison? No fucking way. Not his Luke Addison.
Though, Affton supposed that he'd lost any right to call Luke his the day the man had packed up and walked out on him without a single explanation.
He looked up, eyes narrowing.
"I'm Louise. Ilia's not here today." She stood up to him, unafraid. "What's the problem?"
"Did you read the client's specs on the latest campaign? Because what you turned in doesn't even come close. It's not even in the same ballpark. And where the fuck are Donald and Luke?"
"The problem is the idiot who came up with the concept is either blind, stupid, or a rhinoceros." That was Luke. His Luke, looking tiny in a pair of hip-hop jeans and a gigantic sweatshirt. "Donald spent two weeks trying to make those things work. It's a shit concept."
Affton couldn't fucking believe Luke was standing there, looking fierce as hell. He felt like he'd been hit over the head with a brick, or was having a stroke or something. It was all he could do to focus on the problem at hand. "I don't care if it's a shit concept, it's the concept that the client came to us with. Not to mention, I didn't get one single fucking memo letting me know anyone was having trouble with this fucking campaign." He kept telling himself to ignore the fact that this was his Luke Addison. Why hadn't he known the man worked for Fillian now?
Louise looked at Luke, who looked back and shrugged. "I just animate what I'm given, Lou. My contract states I never have to deal with the executives. That's your job." Then Luke just walked away.
Affton's mouth dropped open as once again, Luke walked away from him like he didn't even exist.
"This needs to be fixed," he snarled to Louise, the only one still left. "By noon tomorrow. I don't care if the arty farty types think it's a bad idea or isn't creative enough. It's what the client wants and if it isn't on my desk by noon everyone on this project is fired because we can't pay you if we lose our best customers because you people can't be arsed to give them what they've asked for." He slammed the client file on the closest desk and stomped off.
Goddamn
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