Deal Breaker

Let's look at it from every conceivable angle. You're new at this, Myron - an ex-jock reaching for the executive brass ring. I respect that. You're a young guy trying to give it a go. Heck, I admire that. Really.'

Myron bit down. He could have pointed out that he and Otto were the same age, but he so loved being patronized. Didn't everybody? 'If you make a mistake on this,' Otto continued, 'it could be the sort of thing that destroys your career. Do you know what I mean? Plenty of people already feel that you're not up to this - to handling such a high-profile client. Not me, of course. I think you're a very bright guy. Shrewd. But the way you're acting…' He shook his head like a teacher disenchanted with a favorite pupil.

Larry stood, glowering down at Myron. 'Why don't you give the kid some good advice?' he said. 'Tell him to get a real agent.'

Myron had expected this whole good-cop, bad-cop routine. He had, in fact, expected worse; Larry Hanson had not yet attacked the sexual appetites of anyone's mother. Still, Myron preferred the bad cop to the good cop.

Larry Hanson was a frontal assault, easily spotted and handled. Otto Burke was the snake-infested high grass with buried land mines.

'Then I guess we have nothing more to discuss,' Myron said.

The believe a holdout would be unwise, Myron,' Otto said. 'It might soil Christian's squeaky-clean image. Hurt his endorsements. Cost you both a great deal of money. You don't want to lose money, Myron.'

Myron looked at him. 'I don't?'

'No, you don't.'

'Can I jot that down?' He picked up a pencil and began scribbling.

'Don't… want… to… lose… money.' He grinned at both men. 'Am I picking up pointers today or what?'

Larry mumbled, 'Goddamn wiseass.'

Otto's smile remained locked on autopilot. 'If I may be so bold,' he continued, 'I would think Christian would want to collect quickly.'

'Oh?'

'There are those who have serious reservations about Christian Steele's future. There are those' - Otto drew deeply on his cigarette - 'who believe he may have had something to do with that girl's disappearance.'

'Ah,' Myron said, 'that's more like it.'

'More like what?'

'You're starting to fling mud. For a second there I thought I wasn't asking for enough.'

Larry Hanson stuck a thumb in Myron's direction. 'Do you believe this fucking sliver of pond film we're sitting with? You raise a legitimate issue about Christian's ex-bimbo, one that goes to the heart of his value as a public relations commodity-'

'Pitiful rumors,' Myron interrupted. 'No one believed them. If anything, they made the public more sympathetic to Christian's tragedy. And don't call Kathy Culver a bimbo.'

Larry raised an eyebrow. 'Well, well, aren't we touchy,' he said, 'for a lowlife pissant.'

Myron's expression did not change. He had met Kathy Culver five years ago when she was a sophomore in high school, already a budding beauty.

Like her sister Jessica. Eighteen months ago Kathy had mysteriously vanished from the campus of Reston University. To this day no one knew where she was or what had happened to her. The story had all the media's favorite tasty morsels - a gorgeous co-ed, the fiancee of football star Christian Steele, the sister of novelist Jessica Culver, a strong hint of sexual assault for extra seasoning. The press could not help themselves. They attacked like ravenous relatives around a buffet table.

But just recently a second tragedy had befallen the Culver family. Adam Culver, Kathy's father, had been murdered three nights earlier in what police were calling a 'botched robbery.' Myron wanted very much to contact the family, to do more than merely offer simple condolences, but he had decided to stay away, not knowing if he was welcome, fairly certain he wasn't.

'Now if-'

There was a knock on the door. It opened a crack, and Esperanza stuck her head in. 'Call for you, Myron,' she said.

'Take a message.'

'I think you'll want to take it.'

Esperanza stayed in the doorway. Her dark eyes gave away nothing, but he understood.

'I'll be right there,' he said.

She slipped back through the door.

Larry Hanson gave an appreciative whistle. 'She's a babe, Bolitar.'

'Gee, thanks, Larry. That means a lot coming from you.' He rose. I'll be right back 'We don't have all goddamn day to jerk off here.'

'I'm sure you don't.'

He left the conference room and met up with Esperanza at her desk.

'The Meal Ticket,' she told him. 'He said it was urgent.'

Christian Steele.

From her petite frame most would not guess that Esperanza used to be a professional wrestler. For three years she had been known on the circuit as Little Pocahontas. The fact that Esperanza Diaz was Latino, without a trace of American Indian blood, did not seem to bother the FLOW (Fabulous Ladies of Wrestling) organization. A minor detail, they said. Latino, Indian, what's the difference?

At the height of her pro wrestling career, the same script was played out every week in arenas all over the US of A. Esperanza ('Pocahontas') would

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