Page 14 of Meet Stan

“Okay, then let me float one final idea before we table it completely,” Stan said. “What if we used an in-house celebrity?”

“Who did you have in mind?”

“Rick Dirkson. He starred in theRiverwindmovies, and he’s already done promotional work for the collectible card game.”

I considered it for a long moment.

“We might be skirting awfully close to the same argument. Kids play the collectible card game, and the same guy that pushes rare foil embossed cards is now going to push an adult beverage?”

“What do you think we should do, then?”

Stan didn’t sound angry or upset. I gave it a few moments of thought, and then spoke.

“What about a focus group? We can come up with a few pitches and see how it plays with the public.”

“Good idea,” Stan said. “What do you think, Nils?”

“I think it’s a great idea.”

“All right. Focus group for possible mascot/spokesman pitches is a done deal.” I checked the time. “If you’ll excuse me, gentlemen, I’m going to be late for a Zoom call.”

“Good meeting,” Nils said.

One by one the Mastercraft board signed off the call, until only Stan and I remained.

“You should be proud,” he said. “I’ve heard Nils say the words ‘good meeting’ exactly one time since we started working together. That man is impossible to please.”

“Beginner’s luck, I’m sure,” I replied, though on the inside I was celebrating. It pleased me that Stan was pointing out how well I was performing. I wasn’t sure how I felt about that, though. I didn’t like the idea of him having that much power over me.

“You’re much too modest.” He cleared his throat. “Listen, I’ve got something I need to talk to you about. A proposal if you will.”

“Okay,” I said. “Go ahead and shoot it past me.”

“I think it might be better if we met outside of work hours. Would you be willing to join me for dinner tonight?”

“Dinner?” I frowned. “I’m not sure if I should accept, given our past history and current working conditions.”

“Would it help if I told you that I’m not trying to ask you out on a date?”

I digested that for a moment. The fact was, it helped and it didn’t. I found a part of myself disappointed that he didn’t want to date me.

“I guess so.”

“Good. Shall we meet at the Saigon Cafe at half-past seven?”

“I think I can manage that, yes.”

“Excellent. I’ll see you then.”

He left the call, and I stood there wondering exactly what he’d been getting at. At first, his intentions seemed obvious. What else could he want to talk about outside of work other than us? The past, the present, and the possible future?

But then he said that he was not looking to ask me out. That put my head into a tailspin. If he didn’t want to sleep with me again, what could his motivations be?

I began to construct all kinds of illicit ideas. Maybe he wanted me to help him embezzle money from the other partners. Or perhaps he was working with some kind of official investigation and needed my help.

None of the speculation made me any less anxious. In fact, my fertile imagination might have made the wait insufferable.

I was almost glad when my Zoom meeting went long and I had no time to change before meeting Stan at the restaurant. It removed the need to worry about how I should dress for the occasion.

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