“Yeah? Well you’re no saint either. You’ve definitely done your share. Now where are my damn recordings?”

“You mean the master tapes that Brooke made for you in payment for that little gig we did for her?” Peter asked coyly.

“What, are you senile too? Yes, those recordings.”

The new talent scout let a smile cross his face smugly as he picked up two boxes with the name James Anderson in neat print written across the top. “I uh…wouldn’t know, James. You’ll have to ask her, yourself.” After looking at each side of the boxes, Peter tossed them back down on his desk.

The angered voice boomed over the phone line once again. “Don’t dick me around here, Peter. I’m not into playing games with the likes of you and that whore anymore. I want those tapes.”

The familiar sound of a bottle being opened on the other end of the line brought the complete picture of James back into Peter’s mind. It wasn’t unheard of for James to toss back a six-pack during the course of a simple phone conversation alone. Peter had been witness to it on many occasions during their touring years together. The ex-band member suddenly became repulsed by the images that danced through his brain and lashed out at their source. “You know, James, I’d say that you were the whore out of all of us. You were always selling yourself for a chance at another shot at fame.” Peter’s eyes grew bigger as he began to realize what was going on. “And just like before, you’re trying to ride on Brooke’s coat tails to get it. But a deal’s a deal, so, I’ll look around and see if I can find them.” Yeah, Peter thought, and maybe some year, you’ll get them.

“Don’t piss me off anymore than you already have, Peter.” His words were interrupted by the sound of breaking glass. “I wouldn’t advise it. I played that gig for her little schoolgirl, now I want my fucking tapes.”

Peter stifled a yawned before deciding to end this entire conversation. “Why don’t you go sober up, James, then maybe we can have this conversation again sometime. Goodbye.” He brought the handset away from his ear, still hearing the shouted words coming through the line.

“Don’t you hang up on me…”

Click… The handset now rested in its cradle.

Peter got up from his desk and walked over to the window, hoping that the view was nearly as calming as the one he’d seen from Brooke’s office. Looking out the window, he realized that his office was on the other side of the building, his view different, but still he found it calming, none-the-less. “You’ll never change, will you, James,” he muttered under his breath. “You’re still the asshole.” He stood there, reflecting when he heard the soft tapping at his door.

“Mr. Butler?” The older woman slowly opened the door and peeked inside.

Peter turned around to see Ida standing there, her coffee mug in hand. “Please, call me Peter or Pete, Ida. Okay?”

“I’m sorry, Peter.” The woman smiled self-consciously. “I just wanted to let you know that I’m stepping out of the office for some coffee. Would you like some?”

Peter smiled at her. “Yes I would, Ida. Thank you. Strong and black please. I think I’m going to need it.” He watched as the older woman turned to leave and a thought came to his mind. “Hey, Ida?”

“Yes, Sir?”

“How do we send master tapes out of here?”

“Master tapes?” The woman quickly ran through her well-organized mind and could come up with no group under contract that was ready for master tapes. “Well…it depends on where they’re going, who they’re for, and their priority level.”

Peter nodded his head and grabbed the tapes off of his desk as he made his way over to the woman waiting patiently at the door. “Will you send these out, please?” He shrugged, then chuckled. “Use the lowest priority level possible. It won’t make a difference, the band is a loser anyway.”

Ida looked at the name on the top of the box and recognized it immediately. “Should I even bother, Sir?” She asked with a mischievous twinkle in her eyes.

“Yeah,” Peter nodded with his hands deep in the pockets of his black Dockers. “Brooke promised them and she’s good for her word.”

“Not a problem, I understand. Could you let Ms. Gordon know that a Sam Moleson called and said that her class was cancelled so she’d be waiting at the dorm? I left a note taped to her computer, but I know she’d like to know as soon as she gets back. It seems that neither one of us could get through to her cell phone.”

“Sam? Sure thing, Ida.” Peter smiled, happy for his friend. “I’ll let Brooke know just as soon as I see her.”

“Thank you, Sir.” The woman held up her coffee mug, “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

“That’s okay, Ida, take your time.” He watched her depart, then grabbed his jacket off the back of the door and quickly rummaged through the pockets. He pulled the pack of cigarettes out of the pocket as a relieved smile came to his face. “I thought I could give you guys up.” Peter held the pack up and sighed. “Oh well, I guess it won’t be today. Time for a smoke break.”

Rolling into her office like one of the waves that quickly rise on the shore, Brooke settled comfortably in her chair and took the phone in her hand. She dialed the familiar number and waited for her lover to answer.

“Hey, what’s up lover? So you got my message, huh?”

Brooke heard Sam’s voice answer and a smile automatically came to her face.

“Hiya, Gorgeous.” She spun her chair, settling to look at the view out of her window. “Yes, I did. Are you playing hooky?”

Sam’s soft laughter filled the line. “Hooky? No, I just had a class cancelled because the professor got sick. I couldn’t think of a better way to use that time than to talk to you.”

“Oh…” Brooke turned her chair around, then sat back in it, propping her feet up on her desk. “So, uhm…what are you wearing?”

“Wearing?”

“Yeah.” Her throaty giggle filled the void in the conversation as her mood soared the more she heard Sam’s voice, Brooke couldn’t help but tease the younger woman. “Tell me what you’re wearing, Darlin’.”

“Wearing?” Sam muttered the word. “What do you mean wear…” then she paused as a thought came to her. “Oh.” Sam realized what her lover was doing and decided to nip that idea in the bud. “Brooke, we don’t need to be doing phone sex.”

“Well, damn.” Brooke sat up in her chair, letting her feet come back down to the floor. “You’re no fun today,” she chided her lover. “So, what’re you doing today, now that your class has been cancelled?”

“Well…I was going to do some laundry but I could think of a few things that I’d rather be doing than watching a tumble dry cycle.”

Two dark eyebrows found their way up into Brooke’s hairline as her heart sped up, anxious to hear her lover’s ideas. “Oh yeah? Like what?”

“Well…how about you picking me up and I’ll show you personally.” The sultry voice beguiled the woman on the other end. “It’s much more fun when done in the right company. I could give you a one on one lesson in the proper care and handling of my delicate cycle.”

“Delicate cycle…” Brooke felt like a kid in a candy store at the thought of seeing her lover again so soon. “Why don’t you pack a bag? I could pick you up and take you back in the morning.”

“Hmm…” The moan was meant to stimulate and seduce. “I only have one question, Brooke. Will I get any laundry done or should I save that for another time?”

Brooke’s mind filled with flashes of the golden-haired woman doing the most delicious things to her body. Then, sensing that her body was already destined for a direct path to overload, she moved on with the conversation. “You could bring it all with you. I’ll have plenty of room now, when I pick you up “

“Great!” Sam’s enthusiastic answer sounded more like a kid, then the sophisticated woman she was trying to project. “I mean,” she cleared her throat, adopting the sultry tone once more. “That’s what I was hoping you would say. So, shall I be expecting you around five or six then?”

“Why wait that long? I could be there in an hour.” Brooke continued the seductive game.

“Wait a minute, Brooke.” Sam’s voice resumed in her normal tone. “What do you mean by ‘plenty of room’?”

The dark-haired woman chuckled, thinking of what visions were going through her lover’s mind. “I ah…well,” her voice squeaked out. “I’ve got us a new toy,” Brooke suddenly felt bad for not discussing her purchase with Sam before hand.

“Hmmm…” Sam sounded thoughtful. “This I have got to see. Okay, tell me, what is it?”

“I thought you didn’t want to have phone sex,” Brooke took advantage to tease her young lover.

“Brooke Gordon,” Sam’s voice was filled with shock. “What did you get us?”

The woman paused effectively, letting the mystery fill the air for a few more seconds before answering softly. “A Toyota Sequoia. I was ah… out, picking it up when you called earlier.” Brooke waited to see if Sam would be upset with her.

“Brooke, that’s a… a… huge thing.” She sighed, then spoke thoughtfully, “But I guess it does have its advantages over the Z.”

“Oh, it does,” Brooke assured her. “And I needed it for work, too. It’s not like I can carry a lot in the 300. It’ll get all torn up inside, besides… I really wanted a truck.” The woman paused, then added. “But I’m still keeping the Z.”

“Well, you know you can’t drive them both at the same time.”

“I know,” Brooke began to twist the front of her shirt, feeling like a chastised child. “But that’s okay. I thought that maybe you could drive one.”

“Me? I…ah…I…”

The executive grinned as she heard Sam start to stutter on the other end of the line. With her playful mood returning, she placed one booted foot against the edge of her desk, pushed off and began to spin her chair in a circle.