@TRLB1 is the stockbroker in the black jacket to the left. Rosie has no obligation to acknowledge me or my beckoning. She only knows that she must look her best for the cameras. She must look her best for the media.
Here's to hoping she is too cunning and sharp for the greedy stockbroker. He will try to lure her into an attractive investment; a stock that "would guarantee an increase in profit and in the thickness of her pocketbook".
There will be no end to her regret and suffering if she allows him to lead her astray. I cannot let it happen. I *will not* let it happen.
She pulls the strap over her right heel and reaches for her purse gracefully. God, she is beautiful. There is no time for pointless drooling.
The stockbroker leans over and places his hand along the back of her wooden chair.
"This is an opportunity you should not pass up." he says as he strokes his finger along the vinyl backing of the chair. "This investment could increase your money flow by 300% in just a year. There is no catch. It's just that profitable. There is no clearer path to wealth than this."
I rise abruptly and glide past the stockbroker. My sleeve brushes against his. I know that I cannot stop this without a distraction of some sort. A brimming wine glass suffices for my diversion. Those stains won't come out anytime soon. A pity, really... He was wearing such a nice dress shirt underneath that coat.
He tells me to go f*ck myself as I stride proudly across the room to the outer hallway. She will catch on to his act eventually. I'm counting on it.
[No LoverBoys were harmed in the writing of this bloated fan fiction]
I'm her personal shoe attendant. I inspect her shoes and confirm that they are in quality condition.