Freeze Frame by B. David Warner Read Free Book Online Page A

chain.
    “You got here right on time,” Carter said.
“We were just finishing up the campaign.”
    “You were?”
    “Sure. We even decided on a name for the
car.”
    “Ridiculous. If you’d listened to Ken
Cunningham’s briefing, you’d know they already have a name.
Ampere.”
    “That’s what I mean,” Carter said. “AVC blew
it.”
    Windemere stood with his arms folded. “I
suppose you have a better name for an electric car?”
    “Sure,” Carter said. “Volts-wagon.”
    The humor flew over Windemere’s head like an
F-16. “Volkswagen? You can’t be serious. That name’s already
taken.”
    Bob Roy Pickard jumped in. “Lyle, I want your
opinion on a headline.”
    “Hit me with it.”
    “We want to convince people to take their
electric vehicles back to an AVC dealer when they need
service.”
    “Yes?”
    “How about ‘Let us look into your
shorts’?”
    “Very funny. Don’t you creatives ever get
serious?”
    “I tried it once,” Pickard said. “My ads all
sounded like they were written by account executives.”
    More smiles, perhaps a chuckle or two. The
mood of the group lifted. Observing these writers and art directors
trading insults with Windemere was like watching a cat playing with
a chipmunk it was about to devour. I decided to save Windemere from
digging himself in any deeper.
    “We appreciate your interest, Lyle,” I said,
smothering a laugh, “but the Ampere is a unique vehicle. Creating a
campaign that does it justice is going to take a lot more time than
we’ve had so far.”
    Windemere left in a huff, hands shoved deep
in his pockets, shoulders hunched around his ears, completely
clueless to the positive contribution his appearance had
produced.
    18
    10:28 p.m.
    As I drove to the two-story house in
Detroit’s Indian Village area the agency had provided as temporary
quarters, my thoughts washed back over the evening.
    I pictured Will, Ginny, Glo-Jo, Matt Carter
and the others, and remembered how nervous they seemed at first
over the challenge facing them. I remembered how that fear had
disappeared, replaced by a determination to meet the challenge, to
create a campaign that would win the AVC business and save not only
their jobs, but the careers of their friends.
    What about me? I thought. What about Jeff
Luden? He offered me a job, with a pay raise of twenty grand.
    Until this moment, I hadn’t made time to
consider the offer. Maybe it sounds crazy, but if we weren’t in
such a horrible mess the decision would have been a whole lot
easier. A twenty thousand dollar pay raise was something even Ken
Cunningham and Sid Goldman would understand if I decided to bail
after one day on the job.
    I hadn’t asked for this situation: caught in
an uphill fight with three agencies in a battle only one would
win.
    But I could choose what I would do about
it.
    I thought again of the looks on the faces in
my office, and the gutsy resolve of the people who wore them. I’d
never been a quitter, and no way could I justify running out on
people who trusted me with their futures as well as their jobs.
    The clock on the instrument panel read
ten-thirty; nine-thirty in Chicago, early enough to call Jeff
Luden.
    To tell him I intended to stay and fight.
    19
    11:18 p.m.
    Hello?
    Hi, Dad.
    Dad? Who’s that calling me Dad? Do I have a
daughter?
    Sorry I haven’t called till now, Dad. What
with moving all my belongings and then finally starting work, the
pace here has been absolutely unreal.
    So you haven’t forgotten us?
    I’ve been running from the time I got to
Detroit. And now we’re crashing on a top-secret project I can’t
talk about. Today lasted 14 hours.
    Can’t talk about it, huh? Must be
important.
    Maybe too important. We have to re-pitch one
of A & B’s oldest accounts. If we lose the business, the
agency’s going to lose jobs.
    That doesn’t sound fair.
    You taught me a long time ago that life isn’t
fair.
    I read in the paper that a man was killed...
a video editor. Did you