An Encounter in Atlanta | Page 6

to view himself as every woman's dream come true.
He also seemed to have an unyielding curiosity about Mandi, which was actually quite
understandable. When Gary had added her to the operation roster, he'd waited until the
last possible minute to do so, dropping her in as a standalone with little or no explanation
to anyone.
Mandi didn't 'liaison' with the teams or team leaders. She hadn't attended even one of the
briefings and her introduction had been so brief and uninformative that some of the team
honchos -- leery of working with unknowns -- had been more than a little pissed at the
time.
While she was pleasant enough when someone happened to encounter her, she didn't
work or socialize with people from any of the teams. For the most part -- even if they
weren't exactly accepting of the terms -- everybody seemed to get used to the
arrangement, but not Frank Stearns.
His inability to find out anything at all about Mandi through channels seemed to bug the
hell out of him. When official queries failed, he'd resorted to overt friendliness, inviting
her to lunches, dinners, and even a party, and he seemed to take her continuous refusals
as some sort of personal challenge.
"Well, hi, there, gorgeous!" said Stearns. "I'm about to go get a late lunch. Care to join

me?"
Returning his grin with a small, polite smile, Mandi said, "Thanks anyway."
"It's just a lunch, Mandi. I don't like to eat alone."
"Sorry, Frank. Get somebody else."
Turning to watch her walk past, Stearns asked, "Well, how about dinner later?"
Without turning around, she said, "You're a coworker, Frank. It won't happen."
He sighed, "Hey, I don't agree with that policy, y'know?"
With a slight nod, Mandi said, "Yeah, I know. Bye."
He must really have been hungry; for once, he didn't persist. Even if she were interested
in playing, it wouldn't happen with Frank Stearns. The guy was a good team leader, but
Mandi had overheard him talking to John Hartmann about one of his dates.
He'd made it sound as if he'd conquered Mount Everest and had given a blow-by-blow
description of events -- as he remembered them, of course -- including their bedroom
activities, some of which had sounded greatly embellished.
No, there'd be no playing with Frank. Never with Frank.
Mandi let herself into room 426 and tossed her purse on the bed, then she began taking
off her clothes as she ran hot water in the bathtub and added some bubblebath.
She wasn't tired and didn't have any aches or pains or frustrations to soak away. Mandi
just liked bubblebaths and the private, quiet time they provided.
It was also an opportunity to see what all had been issued with her DragonCon badge,
which was clipped to a plastic bag someone had delivered and placed on the bed.
Mandi picked the goodie-bag up and peeked inside, then took it into the bathroom. After
getting comfortable in the tub, she spent the next half hour reviewing convention
literature.
The big, glossy-covered guide said there'd be several stars from TV shows and movies
signing autographs, as well as a host of artists and authors.
It also listed a costume contest, three dances, discussion panels, and several movies to be
shown in the ballrooms. The dealer's room vendor list made it seem likely that she'd find
some unique jewelry or clothing.
A smaller, pocket-sized booklet contained a simpler scheduling chart of all events, panels,
appearances, and other doings of interest during the four days of the convention.

Mandi used a yellow highlighter on some of the chart's info blocks, then rooted through
the rest of the stuff in the bag; buttons, pins, party notices, and ads and brochures for
upcoming science fiction movies and books.
By the time the bath water had cooled Mandi had less than an hour to find and get to a
writer's panel titled 'Women of Science Fiction'. She got out of the tub and chose a fresh
outfit from her limited travel wardrobe.
Everyone else at the convention seemed to either be dressed for a camping trip --
backpack included, in many cases -- or wearing some kind of costume, so Mandi decided
to make a fashion statement of sorts.
She chose an electric blue, mid-thigh, sleeveless sheath dress that had a white stripe down
each side-seam and fit her rather closely. The blue shoes in her shoe bag were a shade off,
but in the crowd she was likely to encounter, a shade -- or even a few shades -- probably
wouldn't matter much.
Choosing a small silver necklace from her travel kit, she put it on and thought about
wearing earrings, then passed on them as being unnecessary.
Not for the first time, the thought occurred to