Yes, word-of-mouth was a wonderful thing. The advertising had been minimal, but the wire-press story had piqued interest and the rock underground had taken care of the rest. All sixteen thousand seats had been sold out the day after the ticket agencies offered them. The Atheneum would be picked for the White-horse Band’s first major appearance.
The intercom dinged for attention. He pacified it by depressing the proper switch.
“Yes, Janet?”
“Mr. Parker, there’s a gentleman here who insists on seeing you. He says .his name is Frank Collins.”
“Tell Mr. Collins that all business concerning bookings, recordings, or advertising rights is being deferred until after the concert. Give him an appointment— oh, Tuesday, if he wants, and tell him I’m not seeing anyone today.”
“He knows the concert is tonight, Mr. Parker, but I think you might like to meet him. He’s not after money or offering it. At least, I don’t think so. He says he has a Ph.D. in psychology. He doesn’t look it.”
Well, Sam had heard plenty of ploys, but the inventiveness of the human mind is a wonderful thing. For a moment he was tempted to have Janet tell the joker to go peel his bananas. Then he considered that the claim was just weird enough to be legit. Besides, he’d never met a real live scientist. Closest he’d come was Morris, the bookie.
193
WITH FRIENDS LIKE THESE . . .
“All right, Janet, send him in. I’ll see him.” He released the switch.
Janet was one of the few luxuries he’d permitted himself to acquire with the advance from tonight’s sellout. She could type 90 words a minute, had a degree from UCLA, an IQ of 130, and a forty-one-incb bust.