19. The Gym Teacher

"I've changed my mind," said CC, striding into Maxwell's office and putting both hands on his desk. "Allan Beck has to go. Immediately."

"Casting him was your idea." Maxwell took off his reading glasses and looked up at her with an aggrieved air that didn't suit him. "I warned you, but oh no, you insisted that having a famous name on the marquee was all that mattered. Never mind that the sight of him with a cigarette lighter still gives me nightmares."

"He propositioned me!" She seethed. She still had the smell of the horrible man's cigar in her nose, and his voice ringing in her ears. I've got a slew of those myself. Thursday work for you, Blondie? After all the work she did to be taken seriously as Maxwell's professional equal … The worst thing was that a tiny part of her felt flattered. After all, when was the last time anyone, no matter how creepy, had seen her as attractive?

Oh, Maxwell. I'd be your "business associate", with or without quotation marks, in a heartbeat. Anything you asked. And you didn't say a word in my defense.

"He insulted us both!" she said out loud. "Are you really going to let him get away with it? Maxwell?"

A shrill squeak, not unlike the sound of fingernails on a chalkboard, made them both jump.

"Niles!"

The butler swung around, gripping the squeegee he'd been using to clean the windows in a curiously weapon-like way.

"He did what?" Niles' voice was very quiet, his eyes hard.

"When CC introduced herself as my business partner, Allan Beck made a … an indecent remark." Maxwell made a face. "You're right. The man's a bastard. But, short of ruining the show, what can we do?"

"I know," said Niles, whose face had reverted his usual superior smirk. "We could fire him on grounds of insanity." He waved a hand up and down, indicating every severe, professional, unsexy item on her person: pinned-up hair, off-white blazer, pencil skirt, power heels. "I mean, look at her."

"Look at yourself, squeegee boy. One more word and I'll shove that thing down your throat – soapy end first!" She plunged out into the hallway, slamming the door behind her, and stormed down the corridor as fast as her wet eyes would allow.

She didn't hear or see Niles put down his squeegee, clear his throat, and stare at the closed door.

"Should I tell her you didn't mean it that way?" said Maxwell, in the elder-brotherly manner that always made Niles feel like the chubby little boy he'd once been.

"What makes you think I didn't?"

"You like women who dress seriously. You used to stare at my former nanny Clara when you thought I wasn't looking."

"Miss Babcock's a lost cause, sir. There's no reasoning with her. I could propose lawful marriage to her and she'd still find a way to feel insulted."

Maxwell chuckled at the ridiculous idea, then shot to his feet.

"I say, Niles! I've had an idea. You know who else is easily insulted?"

"Allan Beck, sir?"

"Precisely. How do you think he'd feel if he found out that all the best actors were queueing up to replace him as FDR?"

"But they're not, sir."

"A minor detail I'm about to fix." Maxwell waved grandly with his reading glasses before sliding them back on. "I'm going to need your help. Can you hunt down some phone numbers for me?"

"With pleasure, sir."

Niles thought of the wild-eyed expression on CC's face and rolled up his sleeves. When he was done, that scoundrel would be begging to work with Sheffield-Babcock productions.