40. 40
40
“That’s a bigdamnsign,”Will said, staring up at a billboard plastered with his muscular chest, gloved hands holding a bottle of cleaning fluid. The words Man Maid, Inc . were bright and bold across it, screaming out for attention in an embarrassingly affluent part of their small, mountain town.
Months had passed. The enterprise had been established. The paperwork was filed. The company was incorporated. Every “I”dotted and “T”crossed.
Now, they hoped their marketing campaign would start to pay its dividends.
“You really think this is gonna work?” Will asked.
“It’s going to work. These upper-class men are gonna hate having this here. Hell, they might even make us take it down. But in the meantime, their wives will see it. This thing willdo its job.” Ava smiled proudly and put her hands on her hips. “Wecast out our bait. Now wejust gotta waitfor the nibbles.”
Ava’s cell phone rang as if on cue. She glanced at the unfamiliar number and answered it, mustering her best impression of a professional receptionist.
“ Man MaidIncorporated .” She smiled at Will and then looked up at the forty-foot six-pack of abs perched near the highway. “This is Ava. How can I help you?”