impeccably dressed in an expensive pinstripe suit and a tie decorated with tiny chocolate bars.

“What?” Sally turned.

“My boss. Didn’t know she was comin’ here.” He watched as they were seated in the VIP section. Under his breath, he muttered, “Business meetin’, my eye.”

“Forget them and try this.”

“That’s o...” he coughed. Sally had shoved a forkful of her squid in his mouth.

“Are you choking, big boy?” Immediately, she yanked his arm up, nearly wrenching it out of the socket.

Baloo spit out the squid. It went flying across the room where a waiter slipped on it. The slice of cherry pie that the waiter had been carrying went flying through the air and landed with a splat on an elderly patron’s lap.

“Are you okay, Baloo?” Sally asked.

“Just - cough - dandy.”

Baloo glanced over at Rebecca, who was flashing her ‘catch-a-client’ smile at her escort. “What do gals see in guys like that anywhoo?”

“Who?”

“Mr. Fancy Pants over there. The guy with my boss.”

“Richard Farlie?” Sally cooed with an amused quirk of an eyebrow.

“Yeah.”

“Well, he’s rich, devastatingly handsome, and owns the largest chocolate factory in Usland.”

“Besides that.”

“I wouldn’t mind meeting him myself, but I'm on a date with you, not him." Sally fluttered her eyelashes at Baloo. "Here, big boy, try some more of my squid. You barely got a taste.”

Half an Hour Later

Rebecca stifled a yawn and glanced at her watch. The glamor of the illustrious Richard Farlie had rubbed off long ago. All he cared about was chocolate and world politics. Then, there was his favorite topic - himself. However, she had to be polite to the multimillionaire in order to land the coveted contract. She wondered how much longer she’d have to endure this date.

“It’s like I said earlier,” Farlie droned on. “You can’t make a profit without a sizeable markup. That’s what business is all about - the profit.”

“Absolutely,” Rebecca agreed with a smile that was threatening to fade. At least he isn’t discussing frozen okra. She dropped her napkin and dove under the table to hide a yawn. She peeked over at Baloo and Broadcast Sally, smirking in amusement when she saw the hippo shove a spoonful of something in the protesting pilot’s mouth. When she was straightening up, she happened to glance at the door. She froze. Mr. Tannenbaum - and his clipboard - had just walked in.

“I figure that if people want Farlie’s Fine Confections, they’ll pay big bucks. As well they should. Farlie’s Fine Confections uses only top quality, hand-picked cacao beans.”

“Is that so?” Rebecca said politely, trying to hide behind the crystal vase containing a single red rose in the middle of the table.

“My competitors don’t know beans about cacao beans.” He laughed heartily at his own joke.

“Right,” Rebecca chuckled wanly. Her eyes were fixed on Mr. Tannenbaum as the maître-d’ seated him. At the same table was a familiar face. Her expression darkened. How dare that man...! Then, she flashed an uneasy glance in Baloo’s direction. If Mr. Tannenbaum saw her and Baloo dining with other people...

“You need to pay attention, Rebecca,” Farlie said in an annoying sing-song voice. He wagged his finger at her, scolding her as if she were a wayward child. “That’s the first rule of business. Pay attention to your clients and your clients will pay attention to you.”

Rebecca masked her inward anger with a strained smile. If she had to endure his condescending attitude one more second, she would explode. “Excuse me, Mr. Farlie, but I’ve got to visit the powder room.” Before he could protest, she was hurrying towards the bathroom. She slid into an empty chair at Baloo’s table.

“Becky?” Baloo spluttered, choking on some water. "What...cough...are ya doin' here?"

“This is a private lunch,” Sally said coolly.

Rebecca whispered urgently, “Mr. Tannenbaum is here!”

“Where?”

“Over there.” Rebecca casually gestured towards Mr. Tannenbaum’s table.

Baloo flicked his eyes in that direction. “Who’s that guy with him?”

“Spruce Lee, owner of Lee’s Bakery.”

“He makes simply scrumptious pastries,” Sally remarked.

“Whattaya s’pose he’s doin’ here?”

“Probably trying to sway Mr. Tannenbaum in his favor, the big, fat cheater!” Rebecca said bitterly.

“Would you mind telling me what’s going on?” Sally said, clearly annoyed with the interruption of her date.

Baloo opened his mouth to explain, then quickly shut it. “There’s too much. We don’t have time. Sally, I got another favor ta ask ya.”

“What is it this time, big bear?”

“Am-scray? Please?”

“Fine,” Sally said huffily. She tossed down her fork and napkin. “I know when I’m not wanted. You owe me another date, Baloo. Same time, same place, next week.”

“Good. Good. Just go, will ya?”

“Enjoy your luncheon.” Sally picked up her purse. “Maybe I’ll just visit the handsome Mr. Farlie since he’s alone now.”

“Whatever,” Baloo said absently.

“Baloo!” Rebecca whispered. “That’s my client! If he leaves with Sally, Higher for Hire’s chances with Farlie Fine’s Confections is kaput.”

“Our other deal will be kaput in about five seconds, ‘cause here comes Mr. T.! Take Sally’s place. Pretend you’re eatin’.”

Rebecca peered warily into a gargantuan bowl of lumpy lavender glop. “Whatis this stuff?” She sniffed it with repulsion.

“Trust me, Beckers, you don’t wanna know,” Baloo murmured out of the corner of his mouth. He took a big bite of his cheesecake.

“Why, hello,” Rebecca said, feigning surprise at Mr. Tannenbaum’s and Mr. Lee’s appearance.

“Hello,” Mr. Lee said with a snide smile. “Fancy meeting both of you here. Together.”

Mr. Tannenbaum said nothing. He was too busy writing.

“Where else would we be but here? Together?” Baloo said with a nervous chuckle.

“I could have sworn that I saw you two dining with different people.” Mr. Lee flashed a glance over at Mr. Farlie, who was being dragged out of the restaurant by Broadcast Sally.

“We were?”

Rebecca kicked Baloo under the table.

Baloo glared at her, muttering, “Oh, yeah. We were. Ya see, it’s like this...”

“We find that if we dine with different people from time to time, it keeps the romance in our relationship alive,” Rebecca supplied. “Too much togetherness can be bad.”

“You’re tellin’ me!”

Rebecca kicked him again. “Then, Baloo and I share dessert and compare notes.”

"Uh-huh," Mr. Tannenbaum murmured, looking as if he were composing a novel.

“That’s what we’re doin’ now. Eatin’ dessert." He took another large bite of his lemon cheesecake. "Mm-mmm!"

Rebecca gingerly tried the revolting glop; it tasted like cough medicine mixed with rotten bananas. She choked it down and smiled wanly. “Yum. I can’t get enough of this...stuff.” She gulped hard, willing her stomach to stop rolling. “What are you doing here, Mr. Lee?” she asked, eager to shift the conversation.

In a voice dripping with false modesty, Mr. Lee explained. “I invited Mr. Tannenbaum here to sample the pastries."

“More like spy on us,” Baloo murmured none-too-quietly, prompting Rebecca to kick him again.

“You know, Lee’s Bakery supplies half of the restaurants in Cape Suzette, including the Savoir Faire,” Mr. Lee boasted.

“So what? Higher for Hire delivers all over the world,” Baloo growled.

Rebecca caught his hand and pressed it meaningfully. “It was nice seeing you, Mr. Lee, but Baloo and I must be on our way. Mustn’t keep the children waiting for too long, must we, Butterball?”

“Darn tootin’, Honeylips.” Baloo shook Mr. Lee’s hand in a vice-like grip. “Nice ta meet ya, Mr. Lee,” he said through gritted teeth. “See ya at home, Mr. Tannenbaum.”

Rebecca took Baloo’s arm. As a parting shot, she said, “Oh, by the way, Mr. Lee. Your pastry crust could have been a tinge flakier.”

A few minutes later, they were in a taxi on their way back to Rebecca’s apartment.

“What a flake that Mr. Lee is. Spyin’ on us!” Baloo, feeling comfortable for the first time that evening, removed his tie and loosened his collar.

“What if Mr. Tannenbaum believes him? Our chances of winning will be sunk!”

“We just gotta make him think otherwise.”

“How?”

“Show him a good time, that we like playin’ an’ workin’.” Baloo grinned. “I know! We can go to Lake Flaccid.”

“Lake Flaccid?”

“You’ll love Lake Flaccid, Becky,” Baloo said fervently. “Fresh air, good fishin’, lotsa peace an’ quiet.”

“Does that mean you’re not going?” she retorted.

“Hardy-har-har.”

After a few moments of thinking it over, Rebecca said, “Okay, we’ll go, Baloo. You only have one morning delivery tomorrow, and it might distract Mr. Tannenbaum from tonight’s fiasco.”

Baloo whooped for joy.

“How was your date with Sally, big boy?”

“How was yours?” Baloo fired back. He hated that nickname with a passion.

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