no. Katie kept looking at her cell phone to see what
time it was.
“ Now we can take
the picture,” Claire trumpeted. She put Katie in the right spot to take the
photo. Claire and Matt stood behind Katie.
“Wait, Katie,” Claire said. “One more adjustment. Cross you
legs, Bill. You’ll look more like a gentleman, a cultured man of the world.”
Bill crossed his legs.
Matt objected. “No. Don’t cross your legs.” Bill uncrossed
his legs.
“Tilt your head a bit to the right,” Claire directed. Bill
did.
“No, to the left,” Matt urged. Bill obeyed.
“The right side shows your softer features,” Claire
explained, insisting. Bill turned there.
“Your face has a more masculine look when you turn to the
left,” Matt responded.
Tired of turning his head from left to right and all the
other preparations, which he did not think were going to help him in his online
wooing, Bill looked straight ahead. “Katie, take the picture.”
“Smile,” Claire said. Bill crinkled his face into a fake smile
with his teeth showing.
“No teeth,” Matt said. Bill sealed his lips.
“A genuine smile shows teeth,” Claire observed. Bill’s teeth
reappeared.
“His teeth are bad,” Matt replied. Bill’s teeth disappeared.
With a strained, half-smiling look on his face, as if he was walking into a
wind storm, Bill held his body rigid in its staged casualness, looking as
comfortable as a monkey in a medical experiment.
Claire had another idea and burst out, “He would look better
with a facial. He has so many blackheads on his face, and they’re so big, he
seems to have a rare form of chicken pox.”
“His hair should be dyed,” Matt added. “There’s too much
grey in it. Dark hair would easily take twenty years off his appearance.” He
gave Bill another look. “Well, at least ten.”
Bill was fed up with such helpful advice. “Katie, I’m
ready.” Katie took three photographs. The first two times he blinked with the
flash.
As Katie photographed him, Claire remarked to Matt with a
lowered voice that Bill could still hear, “He has a fifteen percent chance of
succeeding with these photos, I think.”
“You’re optimistic,” Matt replied. “I think it’s less than
two percent. He’d probably have more responses without posting any picture at
all.”
“Thanks, Katie,” Bill said, relieved that the ordeal was
over and he could finally relax. “If you could send me those photos, that would
be great. I’m going to stay here and make some calls.”
“Sure, no problem,” Katie said, fleeing back to her desk and
all her electronic socializing that had been interrupted.
Claire and Matt looked at each other, certain that one of
Bill’s calls would be personal. They had both known him for a while—three
years for Claire and a year for Matt—which was ample time to understand
the elementary workings of Bill’s mind.
“Is doctor Linda on that list?” Claire simpered.
“She must be wondering why you haven’t called yet,” Matt
snickered.
“I have work to do,” announced Bill, appearing to be
completely unruffled by their impertinent remarks. He didn’t even look at them,
because he had already started to read through the messages on his Blackberry.
Claire and Matt walked down the corridor, back toward the
office. When they thought they were out of Bill’s hearing range, peals of
laughter broke loose. The merry sounds still reached his ears.
Chapter 7
When Bill could no longer hear his coworkers, he rose and
looked down the corridor where they had gone. Then he looked in the opposite
direction. Seeing no one, he pressed the up button on the elevator controls. When
an elevator came, he quickly entered the cab.
He exited the elevator on the floor above and snuck into a
small meeting room, which was empty. Inside, after he shut the door, he looked
at his Blackberry and thought for a few moments. With a sinking feeling, he
decided he would surrender himself to the hands of
time it was.
“ Now we can take
the picture,” Claire trumpeted. She put Katie in the right spot to take the
photo. Claire and Matt stood behind Katie.
“Wait, Katie,” Claire said. “One more adjustment. Cross you
legs, Bill. You’ll look more like a gentleman, a cultured man of the world.”
Bill crossed his legs.
Matt objected. “No. Don’t cross your legs.” Bill uncrossed
his legs.
“Tilt your head a bit to the right,” Claire directed. Bill
did.
“No, to the left,” Matt urged. Bill obeyed.
“The right side shows your softer features,” Claire
explained, insisting. Bill turned there.
“Your face has a more masculine look when you turn to the
left,” Matt responded.
Tired of turning his head from left to right and all the
other preparations, which he did not think were going to help him in his online
wooing, Bill looked straight ahead. “Katie, take the picture.”
“Smile,” Claire said. Bill crinkled his face into a fake smile
with his teeth showing.
“No teeth,” Matt said. Bill sealed his lips.
“A genuine smile shows teeth,” Claire observed. Bill’s teeth
reappeared.
“His teeth are bad,” Matt replied. Bill’s teeth disappeared.
With a strained, half-smiling look on his face, as if he was walking into a
wind storm, Bill held his body rigid in its staged casualness, looking as
comfortable as a monkey in a medical experiment.
Claire had another idea and burst out, “He would look better
with a facial. He has so many blackheads on his face, and they’re so big, he
seems to have a rare form of chicken pox.”
“His hair should be dyed,” Matt added. “There’s too much
grey in it. Dark hair would easily take twenty years off his appearance.” He
gave Bill another look. “Well, at least ten.”
Bill was fed up with such helpful advice. “Katie, I’m
ready.” Katie took three photographs. The first two times he blinked with the
flash.
As Katie photographed him, Claire remarked to Matt with a
lowered voice that Bill could still hear, “He has a fifteen percent chance of
succeeding with these photos, I think.”
“You’re optimistic,” Matt replied. “I think it’s less than
two percent. He’d probably have more responses without posting any picture at
all.”
“Thanks, Katie,” Bill said, relieved that the ordeal was
over and he could finally relax. “If you could send me those photos, that would
be great. I’m going to stay here and make some calls.”
“Sure, no problem,” Katie said, fleeing back to her desk and
all her electronic socializing that had been interrupted.
Claire and Matt looked at each other, certain that one of
Bill’s calls would be personal. They had both known him for a while—three
years for Claire and a year for Matt—which was ample time to understand
the elementary workings of Bill’s mind.
“Is doctor Linda on that list?” Claire simpered.
“She must be wondering why you haven’t called yet,” Matt
snickered.
“I have work to do,” announced Bill, appearing to be
completely unruffled by their impertinent remarks. He didn’t even look at them,
because he had already started to read through the messages on his Blackberry.
Claire and Matt walked down the corridor, back toward the
office. When they thought they were out of Bill’s hearing range, peals of
laughter broke loose. The merry sounds still reached his ears.
Chapter 7
When Bill could no longer hear his coworkers, he rose and
looked down the corridor where they had gone. Then he looked in the opposite
direction. Seeing no one, he pressed the up button on the elevator controls. When
an elevator came, he quickly entered the cab.
He exited the elevator on the floor above and snuck into a
small meeting room, which was empty. Inside, after he shut the door, he looked
at his Blackberry and thought for a few moments. With a sinking feeling, he
decided he would surrender himself to the hands of
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