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a guy like
that for his brains. I thought you had more on the ball than that, Kiki. Guess
I was wrong. You’re just an airhead like all women.”
    The miserable bastard. This was one too many crappy
moments in the day. If another thing went askew, she thought she’d sit on the
floor and cry. She turned to confront Gary, about to let loose all her
frustration for the day, but Jim squeezed her elbow gently and stopped their progress,
rotating toward the offensive man.
    Gary drew himself to his full height, which was a few
inches taller than Kiki, but significantly shorter than Jim. He was
well-groomed, but there was no comparison between Jim and Gary. Jim was a
People cover, while Gary was more like National Enquirer on an alien abduction
day. “Here’s the deal, Gary,” Jim said calmly. “You shut up and I don’t hit
you. You say another word and I do. Easy enough for you to understand?”
    Kiki could see the wheels turning in Gary’s head as he
considered the options. Apparently, option number one suited him best. He
dismissed them with a rude gesture and sat back down in his cube. Kiki spared a
glance at Jim and saw the twinkle of a conquering hero in his eyes. Well, at
least someone was pleased with himself.
    Her work problems were the topic of conversation once
they’d started toward the Rosicrucian Museum where there was a patrons-only
event going on that evening. Apparently, Ted Keeting had had complaints from
Kiki’s coworkers about how long it took Kiki to get her work done. In her own
defense, Kiki explained that she took her writing very seriously, so she wrote,
revised, edited and proofread everything she produced several times. Her junior
status also meant that everyone piled the projects into her in-basket,
expecting every item to take priority over every other project. Kiki wanted to
perform superior work, but clearly having late assignment after late assignment
was more annoying to them than having the work riddled with errors.
    “You’ll just have to work faster,” Jim advised. “Try
leaving out one of the steps you’ve been taking.”
    “I know. I just can’t quite do it. How can I turn in
material that I haven’t fact-checked or edited thoroughly?”
    “I understand, and it’s admirable that you want things
to be perfect. But don’t let the perfect be the enemy of the good. It’s a fine
opportunity for self-discipline, Kiki.”
    She snorted. “Damn- I mean, darn corporate drones.”
    Apparently taking no offense despite his own CEO
status, Jim smiled at her, then pulled the car up to the valet stand.
     
    * * *
     
    They were admitted immediately; the Rosicrucian’s
fund-raising staff knew who Jim was and were more than a little eager to escort
him in and take his and Kiki’s coats to the coat-check room. Jim thought they
fawned a little too much, and it annoyed him. If people would just treat him
like a person instead of a wallet, he’d be even more inclined to share his
money.
    Once in the door, he began scanning the place for Cal.
People were milling around, creating little cliques of patrons admiring the
exhibits. The new display, that of some tomb goods from a recently excavated
gravesite in Egypt, had a queue from its vacuum sealed glass case out to the
lobby. Jim wanted to see it, but he was happy enough to wait until the line
cleared a little. The museum staff wanted to put him and Kiki at the front of
the line, but he demurred. He didn’t really want special treatment; it made him
too prominent. Blending in was always his goal, but for the past ten years,
rarely his achievement. He was often in crowds, often crowded, in fact, and
while it seemed that a person would get used to it, Jim never did.
    They met Cal in the mummy room, and the brothers
greeted each other enthusiastically. Jim offered Cal’s date, Ginny, a gentle
handshake and got a warm smile in return. The woman was quite petite, with
pixieish short, blonde hair and bright green eyes.
    As Jim watched, Cal shook