"Are you a vice-president?" Lennox asked her. "Answer in English." "Not altogether," Gabby said. "Haven't you accosted me before?" "I hardly think it possible. I just got out of stir." Gabby clapped her hands. "Of course I know you. You're famous. They wrote you up in the _Calabash Chronicle_." "The Calabash King." Lennox nodded modestly. He leaned across her again, his hand groping for hers. "Are you in this here theaterical game, Mister? I hear you're all pretty fly. Bohemian. Stay up all night and drink like sixty. Is it true? Speak." "Oysters," Audibon told the waiter. Clickety-click went the smile. "We smoke too, sonny. And ride bikes no-hands." "I'll bet my father can lick your father." "The hell he can. My father's a cop." "What have you got, Meccano or Erector Set?" "Meccano." "Yahh!" Lennox sneered. "What have you got, Lionel or American Flyer?" "Lionel. O-Gauge." "Pfff! Which do you get, _Boy's Life_ or _American Boy_?" A "Both," Lennox said with a superior air. "Oh yes?" Audibon retorted with heat. "Well let me ask you one question. Just one question. Do you get _Ropeco Magazine_?" Lennox cringed and hung his head, then he and Audibon burst out laughing. Clickety damn click all over the place. I started looking for somewhere to hide. There was a war breaking out. They were hating each other and skirmishing in the tunnels beneath the glitter. They were hating for reasons I didn't know and probably they didn't know either; but that wouldn't make any difference, not on The Rock where you killed first and went to the head-shrinker later. "What are you going to do about that Kansas hassle?" Audibon asked with sincere concern. "It's been taken care of," Lennox smiled. "There won't be any suit." "Good boy. Glad to hear it." Clickety-click. "I know you wouldn't cross-ruff the network into a Donnybrook." "We aim to please, boss." "It's knowing how that scores. Damn it, Jake, I wish we had more like you. We could use you on our other sick shows." "How do you mean ... other?" "Now, Jake, we're a couple of Pros. We know how to count without fingers. You've got a pretty sick show, boy." "It's got a damned good rating for an invalid." "The best!" Clickety-click. "Of course your Sunday slot is rated at ten points better than you're doing, but that's not your fault. You can't maximize variety on Sunday." "The client doesn't think so." Lennox smiled till it hurt. "We've got 'em convinced they're going to rename it Shoeday." "Bless their dear little souls," Audibon enthused. "Of course they're not getting dollar and cents value percentagewise. Your package doesn't integrate with their product. There's a synthetic overlap but not a genuine structural mesh." A chill ran down my spine. When network veeps start talking like that the words don't mean anything because they're just the sound of a knife being sharpened. Lennox stiffened and returned Audibon's smile doggedly. "We welcome suggestions," he said. "Name a mesh."