As the elevator doors opened into the foyer of J. J. Norton and Associates, Polly Pepper threw out her arms and sang in her powerful imitation of Ethel Merman, "There's no business like show business...!" With Tim and Placenta in tow, she confidently walked across the blonde hardwood floor to the reception desk. "You're new," she smiled at a young man wearing tortoiseshell eyeglasses, a white oxford cloth button-down dress shirt, and a conservative striped tie.
He was startled by Polly's sudden appearance.
"This place is like Oz," Polly said. "People come and go so quickly here."
"My agency offered me combat pay if I could last until Friday," the receptionist admitted.
Polly reached out and caressed the young man's smooth cheek with her hand. "Poor baby," she cooed. "J. J. can be a beast. The only way for a boy of your angelic beauty to survive is to... Well, never mind. You're safe as long as you sneeze a lot."
"And make a point of scratching as if you itch all over, " Placenta added.
Polly turned to Tim. "Don't you think so too, dear? Isn't he adorable?"
"Absolutely," Time said, appraising their host.
"What's your name, dear?" Polly asked, holding out her hand to shake.
"I'm not supposed to give out my name or become friendly with clients," the young man said, looking around to make sure he wasn't being observed interacting with guests. "Mr. Norton is very strict. I had to sign a confidentiality agreement and swear that when I leave each day I'll forget all the celebrities who may have come to the office."
Polly rolled her eyes. "One can never forget moi, dear," she said. "As you know, I'm–"
"Polly Pepper!" the receptionist said.
"He's smart, too!" Polly said, looking at Tim. "This pet you can take home and keep."
"You're younger than Mr. Norton described you," the receptionist said.
Polly blanched.
"Take a deep breath," Placenta coaxed., as she patted Polly on the back. "Reel yourself in, honey Don't succumb to J.J. bashing in public."
Polly found the breath to speak. "Where is dear Mr. Congeniality, anyway? We have a luncheon appointment."
"He had an emergency meeting with a potential new client," the receptionist said.
Potential?" Placenta tsk-tsked.
"The Best Western down the street again?" Tim sniggered.
"His usual room?" Polly suggested.
"Mr. Norton wanted me to personally hand this envelope to you," the receptionist said.
"J.J. didn't have the decency to call before I had to battle midday traffic to get here," Polly said, trying not to sound too perturbed. "What's in the package?"
Everybody watched as Polly opened the large manilla envelope and withdrew what appeared to be a script. "I'll Do Anything to Become Famous," she read, fro the cover page. "I thought these programs weren't scripted." Polly flipped through the pages and discovered that it was a breakdown of the show, complete with bios of the contestants and judges. There were suggested words and body language to use when evaluating a particularly pitiful performance. Polly loked aghast. "I can't say such things to those poor sweet and probably embarrassed innocents."
The receptionist looked around the foyer again for eavesdroppers. "I could get fired on the spot for this. But since I Googled you this morning and remembered you're the star my grandparents used to love, I'll take a chance."
"Grandparents?" Polly raised an eyebrow. "How old are you?" She and Time and Placenta leaned in closer as the receptionist whispered, "If it's any indication of what you're in for, the FBI used the casting call as a sting operation to round up a horde of fugitives. They got a whole lof of criminals who responded to the Craigslist ad that called for contestants who would be willing to do anything, and it stressed anything, to become famous. Also, the six who were selected had to go through a mental evaluation to make sure they aren't dangerous to the judges."
Polly swallowed hard. She then straightened her posture, squared her shoulders, and pasted a smile on her face. "Sweetums, the moment that Mr. Norton returns from his emergency mating, would you please tell him to ring me? Contract or not, there are still a few things to hammer out. It was lovely meeting you. Good luck with your combat pay."
As Polly turned to leave, the receptionist called out, "Please don't tell Mr. Norton that I spoke to you!"
"My lips are sealed. And tell your grandparents that Polly Pepper sends kisses."
"They're dead."
"That happens a lot."