Twenty pounds of C-4 sat in the locked box under his desk. The shipment had taken longer than expected but it arrived well in advance. The maker would arrive in a few days. Payment was handled by order of the Left Hand. One more thing completed.

22 days

Andrew pulled out Annabeth's chair and waited for her to sit. Once he had returned to his seat, he nodded at the waiter standing by to take their drink order. Without asking for Annabeth's preference, he requested two glasses of wine. He gave her a brilliant smile before dropping his eyes and studying the menu. Although she didn't know much about wine, it still irritated her that he took it upon himself to order for her. What if she wanted something else? Gritting her teeth, she resolved to just go with the flow. It was just a couple of hours, right? She could do this.

Annabeth wasn’t sure exactly what had prompted her to accept Andrew’s insistence on a date. He was handsome and extremely intelligent. However there was something almost devious in his mannerism, and that threw her off. She had adamantly refused his advances until Hick reminded her in his nonchalant way of his continued conquests. It had hurt more than she would admit to herself but it had been a wakeup call. She couldn’t keep hoping that they could be more - that she could be more for him. So she called Andrew and accepted his invitation to dinner. Maybe if she told herself it was a business dinner, it would stop feeling so wrong to be here. She sighed heavily and concentrated on the menu.

The items listed sounded... strange. While Annabeth did travel extensively and tried many different foods, at heart, she was still just a little ole country girl from Georgia. She preferred more simple things that she could at least pronounce. Things like fried chicken, okra, potatoes with gravy and fluffy, homemade biscuits. Her nose wrinkled. What were chanterelles? Arugula she knew, but endive? Lord, she hoped that wasn't those raw peas that people liked from the sushi place. Lobster mushrooms made her giggle. She could envision the crustaceans lumbering on the seafloor with tiny little mushrooms dotting their heads like that character from the Mario video games. When she blurted it out to Andrew, he raised an eyebrow and smiled tightly then resumed perusing the offerings.

Chagrined, Annabeth settled on a dish containing pork belly and bean sprouts. That was bacon, right? Who didn't like bacon? Andrew ordered yellowtail hamachi that came with several fruits and something called ponzu. Wait. She thought that was a money-making scheme. She frowned. No that was Ponzi, wasn't it? Who knew ordering dinner could be such a questionable endeavor? She wished Hick was here to explain what all these different things were. He was extremely knowledgeable when it came to food and never steered her wrong. But he wasn't here, and after the last conversation they had shared, she wasn't sure when he would visit again if he ever did at all.

They gave the waiter their orders and settled into an uncomfortable silence. Annabeth fought to keep the sigh from erupting from her lips. Instead, she smiled at Andrew and broke the quiet. "So, how are you enjoying Atlanta? Have you gotten settled in yet?"

He took a sip of the wine that Annabeth found to be a bit too sour for her taste then nodded. "The real estate agent found the perfect home. I'm having some renovations completed that should be finished in about a month or so. In the meantime, I'm staying at a condo." He wrinkled his nose. “Thank heavens I’m not going to be there for long. It’s not at all adequate for anything other than sleeping and dressing.”

"I’m sorry you are having difficulties with the condo, but I'm glad the house coming along well for you.” With the frown he gave her, she decided to change the subject. “Have you had a chance to check out the local sites? I just heard about Tiny Doors Atl. It's these little six-inch doors installed all around Atlanta by an artist named Karen Anderson."

"Why would anyone need a lot of tiny doors?" he asked scornfully.

She chuckled softly and leaned forward. "Nobody needs them exactly. The purpose is to inspire curiosity. What's behind the doors? Where could they lead?"

He shook his head. "I imagine they lead nowhere."

"You are an artist. Surely you can understand the desire to fill someone with imagination and wonder."

"Creating a 112,000-word masterpiece is not the same as gluing a miniature door on the side of something. If this so-called 'artist' wanted to create something magical, she could do much better than that."

"I suppose you have your thoughts. Personally, I want to spend one afternoon searching out all the doors to see them for myself."

He shrugged absently.

Sitting back, she wondered if things could get more awkward between them. In an attempt to re-engage in conversation, she tried again. "There's also Doll's Head Trail. I've seen that one, and it's fascinating. Artists have created many different scenes incorporating old doll heads. Maybe that would tease your curiosity?" When he stared at her blankly, she cleared her throat. "No, I guess not. Hmmm." Slowly she ticked off other offerings on her fingers. "54 Pillars, CDC Museum... Oh, wait. I know. You have to see the Adalanta Desert. I've seen it, and I'm sure it would be right up your alley. Geographer something that begins with a D created this fascinating intersection of alternative realities. It's almost like stepping into a book. There are plaques commemorating the crossing of two planes of existence. There's also a fabulous restaurant."

"I write horror, not science fiction."

Another deafening silence dropped on their table, and Annabeth fidgeted slightly. Desperate for a tension breaker, she turned the questioning to him. "So, tell me why you wanted to become a writer?"

The smile on his face was the first truly genuine one of the evening. Animatedly he began to speak. "To be honest, when I wrote The Obsession of Veed, I never could have thought it would become this thing it has. My parents were dismayed when I chose to give up my career to become an author full time. It was alright for me to dabble as long as I continued working at the firm. Now, don't get me wrong, I love architecture, but it isn't in my soul like writing is." He paused as the waiter refilled their glasses. He dismissed the man with a wave of his hand before continuing.

"When I told Father, I had gotten such a substantial offer for my current works along with a contract to produce six more over the next four years; he was flabbergasted." He leaned in and gave her a grin. "I'm afraid you are not on my parent's good list at the moment. The contract I signed a few days ago that you negotiated for me has sealed my fate so to speak. That, along with the trust fund left to me by my grandfather will ensure I don't have to go back to the firm unless I want. When Mother learned I was moving to Atlanta she about had a coronary." He shook his head with a wry laugh. "No, you are not their favorite person at all."

Annabeth slowly blinked in shock. His parents blamed her for Andrew's decision to leave Michigan? He had contacted her as negotiations for his literary contract started, but he had already done most of the footwork before she had become involved. Her influence was limited.

"Andrew, I hope you told them you had made these plans well before I came along? After all, your contract with me was signed only days before the publishing one. As a literary agent, my function is to represent you and your work in various avenues. In this case, I had practically nothing to do with your success. You were already coming here before my name was ever mentioned."

He waved off her concerns with a grin. "It's fine, Annabeth. They will get over it eventually. I chose you because of Joselyn Chambers. If you can get a mediocre romance author a two-movie contract, you should be able to do wonders with my work. Now that we are dating, you will work twice as hard to ensure your boyfriend is a resounding success. Of course, it won’t hurt your reputation to be seen with me, now would it?"

What? She felt her face flush as realization dawned on her. Knowing he chose her because of Joselyn’s success was one thing. For him to openly admit that he had only asked her out to cement his position in her hierarchy of clients was another. “Let’s get one thing straight here. Just because I agreed to dinner with you does not put us into a personal relationship, and you sure as hell are not my boyfriend. As for your comment on Ms. Chambers, you have no rights to call her a mediocre romance writer. Joselyn is an awesomely talented lady and has worked hard to be where she is."

He chuckled and sat back. "I know it's hard work. I understand the difficulty in creating an entire world filled with different feelings and personalities. But, let's be honest here. She writes mindless dribble. It's little more than housewife daydreams. I've read her first book. I knew who the killer was almost immediately. Deidre, her protagonist, is one dimensional and is too enamored of John Michaels. He, on the other hand, is the perfect example of wishful thinking. Let’s face it, Annabeth; a man who is as she described him would have little use for an imperfect, insecure, wall-flower unless it were to obtain a goal. My work, on the other hand, is much more cerebral. There's a psychological factor at play that forces one to think over every small nuisance. It’s a huge difference. If you take out the fabricated chemistry between Deidre and John, there is nothing left of the mystery. I have to admit her sentence structure is excellent, and her ability to convey thoughts and emotions is first-rate, but the story and character development are extremely weak."

Annabeth felt fury burn in her throat. "Extremely weak? The chemistry between the two is multifaceted. He adores her. He is her perfect match. It doesn’t matter what anyone thinks about how she looks next to him. They complement each other. They are a perfect couple, and the readers recognize it. They were voted the hottest fictional couple in a poll last Valentine's Day. Her characters are not weak."

"I didn't say they were weak; I merely stated the development was weak. There was too much hesitation between them. It became tiresome. Everyone knew they were falling in love. Get on with it!" He waved his hand dramatically. "That kind of writing is suitable for lovesick teenage girls and their bored mothers. If not for that demographic, nobody would have thought twice to pick up the novel."

Annabeth gritted her teeth. She was getting more and more pissed as each hateful, self-righteous word fell from his smug lips. Forcing down the blazing fire of indignation for her friend, she tried again.

"Joselyn Chambers's first book hit the New York Times bestseller list two weeks after it was released. That is a practically unheard of occurrence for a first-time author of any genre. She has put in a lot of blood, sweat, and tears to promote her book and get it seen by the right people not to mention she had to do it while hiding from a serial killer and rapist. The two sequels have each debuted on three major lists. Demma St. John is going to play the lead in the movie. It takes more than lovesick teenagers and housewives to get that sort of success."

"I know, and that is my point precisely. If you can garner that type of publicity for her, imagine what you can do for me? I have high expectations."

"Perhaps too high," she mumbled to herself. Taking a deep breath, she attempted to calm herself. "If you signed on with me expecting me to be able to create the same type of success for you then you may have made a mistake. I will represent you as best I can. I'll do everything in my power to foster your work in the best ways possible. However, Andrew, I thought for sure you understood I have no guarantees. Joselyn's success is her own. She earned it."

"My dear Annabeth, I'm not saying I want any guarantee that you will get me a movie contract. I'm simply stating that you have a talent when it comes to this business as evidenced by your ability to create enough excitement around Ms. Chambers to get her noticed. Once that happens, I can handle the rest."

Annabeth was shocked. Before she could retort, their waiter appeared beside them carrying a large tray. The meal placed before her was mostly plate and very little food. A slab of limp, soggy meat rested on top of a pile of grass with more cut grass sprinkled on top. The vegetables were strange, and she wasn’t sure that she could stomach it after the bilge that spewed from her newest client’s lips. It was one thing to lead his parents into believing someone else was to blame for his decision to move and quite another to openly trash-talk her best friend. Then add in his blatant admittance he wanted to date her only to further his career, and she was done. Placing her napkin on the table, she pushed back causing the chair to squeal on the tile floor.

Andrew glanced up at her as she stood. "Annabeth?"

"I think we should keep our relationship strictly professional," she bit out in an even tone. “I have a policy of not dating my clients to avoid any conflict of interest. I broke that because I thought you were a nice man. I was wrong twice over and will not be making that mistake again. There will be no more conflict because, brother, you are not interesting in that way any longer.” Picking up her clutch, she smiled tightly as all eyes in the room zeroed in on them. She started to turn away then looked back. "Joselyn Chambers may not write the same type of literature that you do, but she is a million times classier. You will never catch her saying snide, petty remarks about anyone else. In fact, in light of what you have disclosed, I am not sure we should continue in a working relationship either. As stated before, I will continue to represent you to the extent of our contract. However, I will remind you of the clause that states if a mutual agreement is reached in the failure of either party's expectation, the contract may be terminated with no adverse repercussions. Maybe you should think about that because I have to admit, my expectations have reached new lows," she stopped as their waiter hurried over, alarm on his face.

"Is there something wrong, Ma'am?"

She looked down at the food on her plate and nodded. "Yes, ya'll need to figure out how to cook bacon because this..." she motioned towards her untouched dinner, "this is not right; just not right at all. Enjoy your meal, Andrew. You can have mine too. Between the two, you may have a mouthful. Goodnight."

Turning on her heel, she strolled calmly out of the restaurant, ignoring Andrew’s shocked calls of “Annabeth,” until she disappeared out the door and could hear him no longer. She may be only a lowly literary agent and far beneath his ego, but she knew what she wanted in a partner, and Andrew Stinger was no Levi Salter.