Perfect on Paper Read Online Free PDF

sites for online holiday shopping. Then I recognized the voice of Scott Ryan, a field reporter I’d become friends with over the years. His report was on an 80-year-old man in Dallas who owned a hundred cats.
    “A feature on a man with a hundred cats? You paid how much to go to journalism school, Scotty?” I said to the TV.
    I arrived at the conference center a few minutes after eight and made my way through the massive complex back to the JAG booth. I couldn’t see Kent or Davey, but nearly the entire JAG sales department was already there. The show didn’t open until nine o’clock, but we were all expecting a rush and wanted to be prepared. The first day of every trade show is always the craziest.
    The Super Show had thousands of exhibitors every year, and it seemed like each company was set on outdoing the next with a fancy booth and “extras” to attract attention. Those extras ranged from girls in tiny bikinis handing out protein shakes to tiny gymnasts performing on balance beams to promote leotards. JAG was no exception. Our booth was enormous. We had several private meeting rooms, but the icing was a huge display room in the front area that resembled a sporting goods store, plus half of a regulationsize basketball court with a ball and a real referee for impromptu guest and/or employee pickup games.
    I said hello to everyone and beelined to the coffee counter at the back of the booth, where I immediately noticed that the entire catering staff was wearing the exact same outfit I was.
    Nice.
    “Uh, I’ll have a chocolate chip bagel and a mocha, please,” I said to the girl behind the counter as I looked at her white button-down shirt and black pants.
    She handed me my bagel and yelled. “Mocha coming right up!!”
    Whoa—down, girl. She was way too perky for 8 a.m.
    “Good morning, Waverly.”
    I turned around to face Gabrielle Simone, the icy new VP of sales at JAG. She was dressed in an expensive navy blue pantsuit and pearls, her short black hair slicked perfectly behind her ears.
    She quickly looked me up and down, then over at my outfit twin behind the counter.
    Crap.
    “Um, hi, Gabrielle, how are you?” I said.
    She ran her long skinny fingers over her pearls. “I’m fine, thank you, just eager to get started. If we’re going to hit the aggressive sales targets I’ve set for this quarter, we’re all going to have to push ourselves pretty hard this week.”
    I nodded as the girl handed me my mocha. “Um, yes, it’s going to be a lot of work.”
    Gabrielle fingered her pearls again. “Well, I expect that you’ll do your job well. David Mason mentioned what we’re paying your agency each month, and it is quite a bit higher than I would expect for the amount of press coverage you seem to be generating.”
    There’s no good way to respond to a comment like that.
    I cleared my throat. “Um, well, we’re working hard. We’re excited about all the interviews we have lined up this week for Shane Kennedy.”
    She nodded. “Good, glad to hear it. We don’t want to be wasting our money now, do we?”
    Again, no good way to respond.
    I smiled. “Of course not.”
    “I’m glad we agree. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a meeting with the CEO.” She turned on her heel and walked away.
    When she was gone I looked down at my mocha. It was shaking.
    I made a mental note for a Honey Note:
     
    Front: Scared to death by your clients?
    Inside: Honey, it’s better than being scared to death by your unemployment officer.
     
    I walked into the back room marked for press interviews and sat down at the conference table. I took a sip of my mocha and heard a knock on the open door. I looked up. Shane Kennedy was standing in the doorway.
    “Hi there, I’m Shane Kennedy,” he said. Like I didn’t know.
    I tried to smile and look casual as I stood up. “It’s nice to meet you, Shane. I’m Waverly Bryson.” I was a little stunned at how huge he was in person. He offered his hand, which was about