Mac Daddy is no good on the phone, and he's no good at delivering bad news. Mac Daddy gets emotional.
"So when's the wedding, MD? Still time for me to get fitted for a backwards tux?"
"Listen, Daddy Mac. About that."
"Hey Mac, it's cool, it's cool. I don't need to be the best man or anything. I just can't wait to meet this lady of yours."
"You're not coming, Daddy Mac."
Mac Daddy swallows hard. That damn lump in his throat-- it always shows up when he's trying to be strong. The silent seconds feel like minutes.
"She doesn't know, does she, Mac Daddy?"
Mac Daddy speaks slowly, measuring every word so his voice doesn't break.
"She's never going to know. And I'm not Mac Daddy anymore. I'm Chris."
Kris Kross and Coca-Cola: the two greatest local institutions. Daddy Mac's got storyboards under his arm. He strides to the front desk and gives it two knocks. The kid doesn't even look up.
"Here to see the president. Tell him Daddy Mac is coming up."
Now the kid looks. Who is this kid, anyway?
"Do you have an appointment?"
Daddy Mac tips his shades low and eyeballs this clown.
"You must be new here. Daddy Mac here to see the president. Got some new ideas, Sprite marketing, Sprite crossovers. Big Sprite ideas, man. He's gonna want to see these."
"I'm afraid you can't see anyone without an appointment."
Daddy Mac just has to chuckle.
"OK, my dude. But the boys upstairs won't be too happy when they found out who you turned away. I'm quadruple platinum, my dude. That's four-ex platinum. I'll be back. Maybe you won't."
Daddy Mac turns and strides. Daddy Mac's schedule is wide open. The Sprite ideas can wait till tomorrow if the kid wants to be a bigshot, but it's his ass.
"Um, sir? Sir?"
Daddy Mac turns around. Kid must have called upstairs. Good.
"Sir, your pants are on backwards."