After lunch, someone dirtied Bill’s trouser knees, but Bill had no idea how it happened; he was completely unaware of it. When Ernest announced the news and showed off her sparkling ring, observant people couldn’t help but notice the two distinct stains on Bill’s knees. Ernest found it amusing, but Bill—well, let’s talk about something else.
“How about this anecdote?” Halsey would say, patting his companion’s back. “Have you ever heard of anything so amusing? Imagine what impact this has on our internal magazine. Everyone reads it; such stories really bring it back to life. And Halsey? No, damn it! Although it wasn’t true, strangely, Bill Filmore didn’t know about it. He really thought the stains were already there, done by someone while he was wandering around chewing tobacco. Half the people present knew the secret, and the other half were looking for the prankster. This must be one of the funniest things you’ve ever seen. Such anecdotes really revive the internal magazine. Here’s more.”
With a little provocation, Halsey would produce more clippings. Usually, his friends would encourage this. These clippings were always good for a laugh, and many of Halsey’s friends faced similar issues with the internal magazine.
One Thursday afternoon, Peggy opened an anonymous letter and read it carefully. “Tonight, Don Kimberley will meet ‘Miss Cleavage’ at the Royal Pheasant Nightclub. How surprising! I’m not asking you to believe me, so I won’t sign. You might as well stay aside and see what happens.” The letter was signed “A Reader” in a distinctly feminine script. Normally, she would glance at it and toss it into the wastebasket, but Don Kimberley was a key player in the claims department, a rare talent for the company. He was young, clear-headed, with a law degree, black curly hair, deep blue-gray eyes that were intense and mysterious, bronzed skin, and an air of aloofness.
“Miss Cleavage,” whose real name was Stella Lynn, had won a beauty contest organized for a regional trade show before coming to work for Wefi. Clearly, the judges favored fully developed curves over slender silhouettes. Stella Lynn was proud of her voluptuous, well-proportioned figure and habitually wore low-cut clothes, the lowest in the company. Someone had nicknamed her “Miss Cleavage,” a fitting title as snug as her office attire and as sticky as chewing gum.
Peggy Castle read the anonymous letter again. Why would Don Kimberley meet Stella Lynn? On the whole, it seemed absurd, likely a prank by someone hoping she would publish it without verification, causing a small stir in the office. But what if it were true? That would certainly cause a major uproar. Peggy decided to investigate before considering whether it was a trick by the anonymous letter writer… The Royal Pheasant Nightclub catered to regular customers.
