Red Letter Writing Contest #15
The note arrived on Monday, along with the morning slush. "Dragoon," was all it said. Miss Snark leaned over the poodle in her lap and fed the note into her shredder.
On Tuesday a second note arrived, bearing a single word. "Cabal." Miss Snark frowned. Into the shredder.
By Wednesday Miss Snark was growing irritated. A third note on the same elegant stationary felt almost like a threat. "Retainer." Miss Snark's finger hovered over Shyster Snark’s speed dial button. No, surely it was a silly prank. But from whom? An author she’d rejected? The fellow agent she'd drunk under the table at last month's writer’s conference? The editor who'd lost his best-selling author when she’d advised her client to jump ship?
Thursday's note said, "Crisp." Followed by, "Interested?" Could it possibly be the odd little man in her building who made faces at her faithful companion, Killer Yapp, in the elevator?
"Strauss," was Friday's word. Miss Snark had anxiously searched through her voluminous slush pile looking for it. Her hands shook as she read the rest of the message. "Meet me. Tomorrow night. Let's make beautiful music together." A pair of initials followed. She knew those initials. Miss Snark's hands trembled in earnest.
Saturday’s note was presented to her in person, on a silver tray beside a Martini, in the bar of the Plaza Hotel. “Enterprise.” His warm voice spoke it aloud as she read.
Miss Snark looked up into George Clooney’s mesmerizing blue eyes and knew she’d been hooked.
hook, line, slinker!