Martin was looking for a job the day he met Jennifer. It was summer in San Francisco and the wind off the bay was a welcome relief from the heat wave he'd suffered through in New York.
He arrived ten minutes early at the firm, his suit crisp and his shoes shined for the interview. The reception area was modest, but it had some nice touches like marble floors and stunning piece of art signed by someone named Brett Whiteley. What struck Martin about this particular piece was the quote inscribed on the brass plate beneath it: "Art is the thrilling spark that beats death - that's all."
Martin rubbed his chin and felt a chill as the door opened behind him. Maybe it was the room or the painting or just the subtle anxiety of interviewing, but he felt like this moment was a replay of a dream.
When Jennifer walked into a room, men stopped what they doing just to look. But when she spoke with that gravelly voice of hers, men pretty much forgot what they'd been doing.
"Martin Dial? I'm Jennifer Flamel." She offered her hand and gestured towards a glass conference room door. "Please. This way."
Jennifer walked hurriedly down the hall and Martin lengthened his stride to keep up with her. She had to be pushing five foot eleven, he thought. Very nice.
"Follow my lead," she said over her shoulder. "These guys have some hot code, but they don't even know what pre-money is."
She grabbed the door handle and spun to meet his eyes. "Are you ready?"
"What about the interview?"
"This is the interview, Mr. Dial."