Max burst out of his office, mentally recapping the list of items that Effie had demanded. The spacious outer office was empty. Small wonder: Alison never stayed past 3pm. In fact, he was lucky if she was still around at 2pm. When Max had tried to lecture her on the importance of being available as the secretary of a top CEO, she'd responded with a lecture on the importance of work-life balance and the significance of manicures in the modern business world. It wasn't the first time he'd considered transferring her to his negotiations department.

There! On Alison's desk stood an abandoned, disposable coffee cup. Excellent. A ‘food receptacle’ was the first item on the list. Grabbing it with enthusiasm, Max narrowly avoided spilling cold coffee dregs on his shirt.

The next item was easy. Unlocking a filing cabinet, Max dug through the folders until he came to the Gantron file. As one of his most important clients, Gantron easily represented a fifth of his company's yearly turnover. Max found the latest contract at the front of the file. He placed it on the edge of Alison's desk with the coffee cup on top.

Now for the tricky part. An animal. Turning in a slow circle, Max scanned the small room for possibilities.

There were none. Though Alison might be incompetent, the cleaners he hired for the building certainly weren't. Everything was neat and dust free. Not even the trace of a spider's web and certainly no dead flies. They wouldn't have helped anyway. Effie had stressed that she needed a live creature.

Max snapped his fingers as he was hit by a stroke of genius. Brilliant ideas like this were what had made him CEO in the first place! Without wasting another second, he jogged down the hall to the office of one of his middle managers. "Harry! How are you doing?"

"Hullo Max?" Harry looked up from his computer screen.

"I need a favour. Do you happen to have a net here?" Harry had been with Max’s company from the very start. He was a genius with figures but Max suspected that Harry also hadn't lost his habit of bringing fishing equipment to work with him.

“A net? Do you mean you’ve lost connection in your office?”

“No, a net!” said Max impatiently. “A net – like for catching fish! You still fish at the weekends, don’t you?”

Harry’s cheeks coloured a deep shade of red. "Um…Sorry Max, I know I promised I wouldn't bring too much stuff here. But sometimes I want to go to the lake after work, and…"

"Fine! It's fine! You can bring whatever you like. Just tell me you have a net?"

"Well…" Harry hesitated. "I've got a small one. For tiddlers and such. Plenty more at home but…"

"Great! Get it for me, would you?" Max stood with folded arms, tapping his foot impatiently as Harry dug methodically through the closet in his office. There certainly did seem to be a lot of fishing equipment in there, but this wasn't the time to complain. Seizing the net that Harry finally unearthed, Max called, "Thanks! I owe you one!" as he exited the office and hurried in the direction of the stairs.

Five minutes on the roof was all it took. Max just hoped that the flimsy fishing net would be enough to contain the disgruntled pigeon, which was choosing to express its displeasure through ever more violent bouts of flapping. Hurrying back downstairs, Max wedged the Gantron contract under his arm and grabbed the coffee cup in his free hand on the way back to his office.

He paused for a moment outside his own door and glanced down at the odd combination of objects he was holding as the bizarreness of the situation came over him. With a chilled sense of unease, Max asked himself whether the stress of his position had finally caused him to go mad.

The bird flapped again and the noise brought him back to reality. Whether he’d imagined the winged woman or not, he couldn’t stand around holding a mangy pigeon all day. Taking a deep breath, he elbowed the door open and strode back into the room.

He’d almost expected the office to be empty. But no. There was his fairy godmother. She'd made herself comfortable in his chair, her yellow dress was rucked up over her knees, and she was resting her feet on his computer keyboard as she painted her toenails. Inwardly groaning, Max prayed that the glittery gold she was liberally sprinkling around wouldn't end up obscuring too many of the keys. Then again, he could always buy a new keyboard. Tonight's ball was a once-in-a-career opportunity.

The pigeon in the net gave a particularly violent flap of its wings and warbled angrily. Effie looked up. "Perfect!" The nail-painting items disappeared and she floated up from the chair and over the room to him, her bare toes gleaming gently. Taking the Gantron contract from under his arm, she gave it a good shake and then, with an exaggerated showman’s gesture, held up a couple of stiff cards that were elegantly engraved in gold. Max’s heart leapt. Tickets! The keys to his future. His hands were still full so Effie pulled open the front of his jacket and slipped them into the inside pocket. “We'll have to go outside for the next part,” she said. “Bring those and meet me on the pavement." Then she was gone. Vanished into thin air.

Max got some funny looks from his staff as he made his way through the building with the occupied net and empty coffee cup. He was attempting to stroll nonchalantly through the lobby, when the pigeon made a new bid for freedom, going into a violent flapping frenzy and squawking loudly. Both of the security guards on duty rushed forward to help.

"No!" yelled Max, as one man tried to relieve him of the coffee cup while the other made a grab for the heaving net. "Just leave it! I'm fine!" Catching their mystified expressions, Max cleared his throat. “Just special surprise items. For the Winston ball. This evening. You know." He flashed a brilliant smile. "Go back to your work, gentlemen." The men backed away looking perplexed and Max grabbed the opportunity to scarper past them, through the door and out into the cool evening.