Celluloid Memories
"Mac, Jeff Peterson is on the line. He said it's important."
The man behind the sleek, modern desk was already on the phone with another call. At the sound of his assistant's voice he sat back and momentarily stopped his note taking on a pile of official documents.
"Mr. Samuels? Sorry to interrupt. Can I put you on hold for a quick moment? Thanks." He frowned at the young man standing in the half-open doorway. "I'll have to get back to him. Didn't you let him know I'm on an important call?"
The young man nodded. "He was insistent. Said he had some crucial information for you, and if you didn't get it you'd probably kick his ass. Sorry, those were his words. And there's a Miss Daly waiting in reception. She doesn't have an appointment but said you're expecting her?" He ended on a question to explain his own lack of knowledge of the unexpected visitor. "I think she has to do with why Mr. Peterson is calling."
"I wouldn't be surprised," McCoy Sutton muttered, already pushing a button on his phone console as his assistant backed out of the office door, closing it behind him.
"Jeff, this is a bad time. I'm in the middle of…"
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