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Russ approached two female executives engaged in a lighthearteddiscussion with a small group of tech execs, he watched the two ladiesturn and flank him, clearly intending that he should meet them first.Russ turned to them and extended his hand to Maggie Phillips."I don't believe I have had the pleasure, though my hunch is you areMaggie Phillips from bet. Your wonderful reputation precedes you aswell as your obvious style and beauty. You make old hacks like me looklike rough necks just out of the woods." Of course, Russ knew who shewas; Merritt had supplied him with a one-page dossier of everybodyattending including a recent color photograph.Maggie smiled and took Russ' hand, squeezing it momentarily with herbest air of southern familiarity. She turned to Justine and announcedin a flurry of Charleston charm and mock Scarlet affectation, "Justine,we must simply watch our manners this evening or this poor gentleman,who is obviously the class of the show will humble himself into a. She pouted her lips knowingly and rolled her eyes. “Name and insurance card, please,” she routinely demanded, despite carrying a half-amused, half-'no that again' undertone.“Uh, Robert,” he whispered, trying desperately to appear as inconspicuous as possible. “...uh... Rayleigh,” he completed his embarrassed elaborations as he went through the various cards in his wallet, looking for the right one.The receptionist chuckled when she saw what insurance she was going to bill. “Thank you. You may take a seat,” she emphasized the last part, knowing this was likely no option for Robert in his state of distress. “Doctor Madison will see to you as soon as she's got her hands free.” ...and it had to be a female doctor.During the entire wait—fortunately, little more than fifteen minutes but still a lot longer than he had hoped for—Robert awkwardly kept shifting his weight from one foot to the other, seeking a position of minimum discomfort but failing to find it and earning questioning glances.
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