She remembered the long silence from John Wells. “What's a word that
means hate but only worse?”
“Loathe?” He rubbed his chin once with his palm. “Um, despise? Shrink
back in horror? Vomit profusely?”
“Let's just stick with hate. He hated it.”
“Oh, c'mon, it couldn't be that bad.” He moved his chair closer to her, his arm touching hers. “Show me what you got.”
“Okay, but just remember, I'm not responsible for any loathing or shrinking
back in horror it may cause.” She punched a couple of keys on her laptop. A graphics program popped up, then an image of a smiling cow holding a test tube
filled the screen.
Peter burst out laughing, then stopped, clearing his throat.
Kate's eyes narrowed. “That was just a preliminary sketch. You weren't
supposed to see it.”
“No, Kate, I'm sorry. It's good. If Nitrovex were an ice-cream truck.” This time, he covered his face as he laughed, wincing in anticipation of the swat she
did give him.
“Hilarious. Artistic advice from a guy who couldn't even finish a paint-by-number picture of a puppy.”
“Hey, you're the artist, not me.”
“Exactly, which is why I need the help of your simple, unemotional little scientific brain. What am I missing?”
“Besides a dancing test tube? Not sure.”
She winced. “I tried that.”
“Really?” He rubbed his chin again. “Maybe if you gave him a little hat…”
“C'mon, Peter, I'm serious.”
His laughter had subsided. “Okay, okay. I'm sorry.” He wiped his eyes.
“Look, you're dealing with engineers and scientists here. Neither the people at Nitrovex or the companies they're dealing with are going to care about whether
the logo has a cow or a pig or a corn stalk in it. They're not that literal.”
“So how do I come up with a tagline for a company whose main product seems to be something that keeps raw sewage from getting foamy?”
“Well, how about 'Technology at the Speed of Poop'?”
Kate shook her head. “I knew this was a bad idea.”
Peter's shoulders were shaking. He held up his hand. “Wait, wait, I got it.
'Nitrovex: Bowel Moving Into The Future.' ”
Kate stood up. “Thanks a lot for your help.”
Peter grabbed her by the hand. “No, Kate, wait. I'm sorry.” He pulled her back into her seat.
She sat, crossing her arms.
“Look,” he said, “John Wells is the guy you have to convince, right? So maybe if you just concentrate on what he likes you'll find something to land on.
Look at his background, where he came from, why he started the company.”
“Maybe. But he seems more cowhand than chemist to me.”
“He may look that way, but he's a sharp guy. Graduated third in his class at
Iowa State.”
“Well then, we're back to how do I relate to chemicals again.”
Peter stood. “I think part of the problem is you need to get reacquainted with
the wonderful world of science. Come with me into the lab.” He stood.
