Hershey looked around and took a momentary personal satisfaction from the austere decorative style imposed upon Josh’s office space. He sat in the visitor’s chair, then stood up again. He wasn’t sure where best to position himself. He decided on Josh’s backside residence, flopped down and put his feet up on the desk. The seat was lumpy and uncomfortable. He hoped it gave Dedman piles. His eye was caught by a photograph on Josh’s desk which caused him to return his feet to earth, lean over, stretch out an arm and pick up the frame to take a closer look.
What an ugly bitch, he thought. No, not ugly, he corrected himself. Plain, very, very plain.What a perfect match for someone in a mundane role, Hershey mused.
Therefore Josh’s choice was ultimately no surprise when he thought about it. On the other hand Hershey reluctantly admitted that Josh certainly could, from a looks perspective, do much better, which simply confirmed his view of the world. Looks weren’t everything, money was. It was a fundamental fact deserved of Newton or Einstein. But of course, neither was as clever as Hershey.
He liked his girls blonde, rather than mousy brown like this one. He was able to use those strongest of aphrodisiacs — money and power — to draw in surprisingly attractive girls for, despite his thoughts otherwise, Hershey was not particularly good-looking himself. He was tall and wiry. His well-tanned face (from a multitude of skiing holidays) was unlined but only because of regular Botox applications. He had a forehead that was frankly too high and a haircut that was so flat it must have been squared off with a spirit level. Hershey’s favourite celeb was Simon Cowell, appreciating his arrogance and utter self-belief.
The girl looked familiar, but Hershey couldn’t entirely place the face. He tapped the frame on his chin as he thought, momentarily forgetting the lie he was about to deliver to Dedman.