Mel put a little extra swing into her stride as they passed her coworkers’ offices, just to be on the safe side.
Kitty Konstantine’s office was guarded by one of her “stud muffins,” as Mel thought of them—a series of very good looking, very young men Kitty hired as her secretaries. Kevin was the latest incarnation: tall, blond, and built like a model of men’s underwear, just as Kitty liked them. Mel had the satisfaction of the young man’s double-take when she sauntered up to his desk. His look of unabashed appreciation was replaced instantly by shock as his eyes rose above her shoulders and he recognized her.
“Where have you been?” he asked sharply. “Ms. Konstantine has had us looking all over for you!”
“I’ve been busy,” Mel said, “but I’m here now. I’ve brought some gentlemen to see Ms. Konstantine.”
“No, way, Ms. Darling. You know she doesn’t like to be disturbed on Mondays.”
“Well, Kevin,” Mel said, settling a hip on his desk and leaning close conspiratorially, “she’ll have to make an exception, won’t she? These gentlemen won’t wait.”
She saw Bart look at his watch, his face a mask of impatience. “It’s now or never, Miss Darling.”
Kevin eyed Bart nervously and visibly shrank back when their eyes met. He glanced nervously at the Saint brothers, but they weren’t paying any attention to him.
“You heard the man, Kevin,” she said, straightening. “Do you really want to be responsible for Ms. Konstantine missing this opportunity? Remember what happened the last time Duncan and Associates signed a new artist Ms. Konstantine never had the chance to get her hands on.
“Oh, that’s right. You weren’t here, then. It was your predecessor who let that one get away.”
The implications of her words were clear, and Kevin took a deep breath. “This one’s on your head, Ms. Darling, he said, pushing the intercom switch.
“You bet!” Mel said cheerfully. She might have felt sorry for the guy, if he had spent less time looking at her breasts just now.
“Ms. Darling to see you, Ms. Konstantine,” Kevin announced.
They didn’t hear the boss’ response, but they could see Kevin wore an ear bud when he got up to open the inner office door.
Mel went in first, wondering if this was to be her last encounter with the woman who had been making her life miserable for the past six months.
“You seem to have forgotten, Ms. Darling, that I don’t take meetings on Monday,” she said, her eyes narrowed menacingly.
“Not at all, Ms. Konstantine, but these gentlemen need to see you.”
Ms. Konstantine seemed to notice Bart and the brothers for the first time, but she seemed unimpressed.
“That would be my fault, Ms. Konstantine,” Bart said, stepping forward to hand Ms. Konstantine his card. “I told the boys that this meeting wasn’t really necessary, since we already have an appointment with Timothy Duncan this afternoon, but Ms. Darling was so good about showing us around last evening and providing breakfast for us this morning, they insisted we give her agency a chance, first. If you’d rather we didn’t, then…”
“No, no,” Ms. Konstantine said, finally standing and coming from behind her power desk. “That’s quite all right, Mr…?”
“This is Mr. Bartholomew Saint, Ms. Konstantine,” Mel said. “He represents his nephews, The Four Saints. That’s Matt, Luke, Mark, and John.”
Ms. Konstantine shook hands with Bart and nodded to the others.
“And just what kind of music do you play?” she asked, leaning back on her desk.
“They have a CD, Ms. Konstantine,” Mel said.
“Of course they do,” Ms. Konstantine muttered. She didn’t quite roll her eyes, but she definitely was not happy as she took the offered disk from Bart. She wasn’t foolish, though. If she thought Tim Duncan was interested in this band, she couldn’t not listen to what they had.
“After seeing them perform on Saturday night,” Mel said, accepting the CD from her boss and heading for the sound system built into her wall of shelves, “I am certain you will enjoy it.”
Mel put in the CD and cued up the third cut, which Bart had suggested. In another moment, the brothers’ voices filled the room, and Mel smiled. It was the love song that had so taken her on Saturday night. It was a song about a man’s love of home and hearth, kids and family, but most of all, his love for his wife. She had to blink back tears before turning back to the room, knowing Ms. Konstantine could always hide her own response to music but hoping for some hint of approval.
Ms. Konstantine hadn’t moved from where she leaned on her desk, but her expression showed far more than polite interest. Mel smiled to herself. Even Ms. Machiavelli can’t stand up to it, she thought. Mel had wondered if their songs would lose their punch when heard in a recording rather than live, but she needn’t have worried.