glasses. That’s a little weird . He could tell Tiffany didn’t mind. Her makeup did little to hide the genuine flush now staining her cheeks.
“I’m so pleased to meet you!” she gushed. “Theodore told me all about you. Please call me Tiffany.”
“What a lovely name. Just like the jewelry store.”
“That’s where it came from.” A girly giggle burbled out of her.
Void appeared not to notice. “Please, both of you, call me Langston,” he said warmly. “Let’s pick up your luggage. Our limousine is waiting. I’ll be escorting you to your room at The Grand, where you two can freshen up before dinner at The Posh.”
As they followed him outside, Tiffany grabbed Theodore’s hand and squeezed it. “Don’t you think he looks like a famous movie star, Theodore?” she whispered. “Can you believe it — a limo, The Grand, The Posh? This is like a dream .”
Sure isn’t Biotech International , thought Theodore. He was quite pleased that the CEO of Void Chemical Corporation had come out personally to meet him.
* * *
Thirty minutes later they arrived at their suite on the top floor of The Grand. Gilded and silk-upholstered furniture, crystal chandeliers, and marble fireplaces decorated the suite, and on the balcony was a fountain — with not one, not two, but three peeing cherubs. A satin-bow wrapped box of chocolates sat on the coffee table, compliments of Void Chemical Corporation.
Tiffany ran through the rooms, exclaiming over the toiletries, “They’re full size!” the fake flowers, “Gorgeous! And they smell like those samples you get in magazines!” the fully-stocked wet bar, “They even have Skinny 2000 — can you believe it?” and the box of chocolates in their white satin box, “Modiva! The most expensive chocolates in the world!”
Minutes later, as they stood on the balcony looking at the city skyline, Tiffany sighed deeply, her lips pulled down in a kittenish sulk. “Teddy, I’m worried. I don’t know if my clothes are going to be, well, good enough for dinner at The Posh.”
Theodore fumbled in the breast pocket of his jacket and pulled out a small gold-colored envelope. “Langston gave me this in the limo when I handed him the signed contract. There’s a boutique downstairs, maybe you’d like to check it out.”
The sparkle returned to Tiffany’s eyes as she opened the small envelope. It held a Titanium American Excess card, printed with the company name and the name of Theodore Francis Green.
“Just put whatever you need on my bill. Heck, buy a new dress. But watch it when you go out,” Theodore cautioned, “the limit is only one hundred. One hundred thousand. ”
Tiffany threw her arms around Theodore’s neck, and kissed him on the cheek. “Who would have ever imagined. Tiffany Taylor, the poor kid from Rosemont High, in the best hotel in L.A., about to go to the best restaurant in L.A! This is the happiest day of my life!”
* * *
“You look amazing, ” Langston said.
Tiffany’s giggle returned as Langston complimented her on her new outfit, a hot pink, strapless, sequined gown with matching shoes and bag. Theodore, standing beside her in the tuxedo that had been waiting for him in his room, had never felt more dressed up. Round, gold-framed eyeglasses and a matching gold watch were his stylish, though quirky, Tiffany-chosen accessories. Langston, also in a tux, looked like the leading man in an old Hollywood musical. Theodore half-expected him to break out in song or dance as he introduced his group to the “guests of honor” at the celebration dinner: his stunning, blonde date, Crystal, a Monica’s Secret underwear model; Troy Sylvan, the head of Void’s Research and Development department, described by Langston as “my right-hand man”; and Troy’s gorgeous, red-haired date, Zirconia, whom Theodore was sure he’d seen on television, though he couldn’t remember quite where. Out of the four of them, only Troy, a short,
“I’m so pleased to meet you!” she gushed. “Theodore told me all about you. Please call me Tiffany.”
“What a lovely name. Just like the jewelry store.”
“That’s where it came from.” A girly giggle burbled out of her.
Void appeared not to notice. “Please, both of you, call me Langston,” he said warmly. “Let’s pick up your luggage. Our limousine is waiting. I’ll be escorting you to your room at The Grand, where you two can freshen up before dinner at The Posh.”
As they followed him outside, Tiffany grabbed Theodore’s hand and squeezed it. “Don’t you think he looks like a famous movie star, Theodore?” she whispered. “Can you believe it — a limo, The Grand, The Posh? This is like a dream .”
Sure isn’t Biotech International , thought Theodore. He was quite pleased that the CEO of Void Chemical Corporation had come out personally to meet him.
* * *
Thirty minutes later they arrived at their suite on the top floor of The Grand. Gilded and silk-upholstered furniture, crystal chandeliers, and marble fireplaces decorated the suite, and on the balcony was a fountain — with not one, not two, but three peeing cherubs. A satin-bow wrapped box of chocolates sat on the coffee table, compliments of Void Chemical Corporation.
Tiffany ran through the rooms, exclaiming over the toiletries, “They’re full size!” the fake flowers, “Gorgeous! And they smell like those samples you get in magazines!” the fully-stocked wet bar, “They even have Skinny 2000 — can you believe it?” and the box of chocolates in their white satin box, “Modiva! The most expensive chocolates in the world!”
Minutes later, as they stood on the balcony looking at the city skyline, Tiffany sighed deeply, her lips pulled down in a kittenish sulk. “Teddy, I’m worried. I don’t know if my clothes are going to be, well, good enough for dinner at The Posh.”
Theodore fumbled in the breast pocket of his jacket and pulled out a small gold-colored envelope. “Langston gave me this in the limo when I handed him the signed contract. There’s a boutique downstairs, maybe you’d like to check it out.”
The sparkle returned to Tiffany’s eyes as she opened the small envelope. It held a Titanium American Excess card, printed with the company name and the name of Theodore Francis Green.
“Just put whatever you need on my bill. Heck, buy a new dress. But watch it when you go out,” Theodore cautioned, “the limit is only one hundred. One hundred thousand. ”
Tiffany threw her arms around Theodore’s neck, and kissed him on the cheek. “Who would have ever imagined. Tiffany Taylor, the poor kid from Rosemont High, in the best hotel in L.A., about to go to the best restaurant in L.A! This is the happiest day of my life!”
* * *
“You look amazing, ” Langston said.
Tiffany’s giggle returned as Langston complimented her on her new outfit, a hot pink, strapless, sequined gown with matching shoes and bag. Theodore, standing beside her in the tuxedo that had been waiting for him in his room, had never felt more dressed up. Round, gold-framed eyeglasses and a matching gold watch were his stylish, though quirky, Tiffany-chosen accessories. Langston, also in a tux, looked like the leading man in an old Hollywood musical. Theodore half-expected him to break out in song or dance as he introduced his group to the “guests of honor” at the celebration dinner: his stunning, blonde date, Crystal, a Monica’s Secret underwear model; Troy Sylvan, the head of Void’s Research and Development department, described by Langston as “my right-hand man”; and Troy’s gorgeous, red-haired date, Zirconia, whom Theodore was sure he’d seen on television, though he couldn’t remember quite where. Out of the four of them, only Troy, a short,
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