"Mr. Scarface Willy Talese's first appointment is with Sales. With Georgette, to be precise. So, we wait an hour or so and see how much Georgette can soften him up. Then we bring him upstairs to see you. How does it sound?"
"Great, lady," Fanetti said, going over to Laara and raising the flat of his hand to repeat the optimistic thumping he had administered to Heck's spine.
"If you use that thing on me, Fanetti," Laura shouted, "you're finished here."
"Aw, lady," Fanetti said, looking at his hand. In repose his hand was not very big. In repose it looked only half the size of a whale's fluke.
They waited. For Heck, time crawled. Not that he was in a hurry to see Scarface Willy. But time crawled agonizingly because he didn't know exactly what Willy wanted and knew he'd have to wait a while before he found out. It was hard to believe that three days ago he was a salesman in love with his work and in love with his girl. Now he wasn't a salesman any longer although that had seemed to be Baldid's original idea. Now he hardly had time for his girl....
Buzz went the intercom. "Yes?" said Laara.
"This is Sophie," said a voice. Sophie was the madam-like woman. "Mr. Talese was here."
"What do you mean, was there?" asked Laara.
"Because he's come and gone. He wouldn't even look at Georgette. He had too much business on his mind to think of dames, he said. He meant it, Miss Laara. He said the only kind of dames he really liked, anyhow, was tall redheads with plenty of Irish in them. So—" here Sophie's voice suddenly took on a foxy quality—"I sent him right up to Mr. Finch's office."