more on lead characters

annie hope sounds like a good enough name for a low self-esteem person. must check on google if this is a common name. Archer Hamilton sounds fine; the sound of a name is very important as it evokes images of a person. got the first pages done:

“Excuse me, sir,” I called out. “Mr. Eduardo is busy right now.”
The blond hulk who had just crashed through the glass door may not have heard me. I was after all sitting behind the reception desk, three feet away from the door. People tended not to notice me even when they did see me sitting there. Anyways, the blond hulk stomped across to the door, hurled it open and stomped right on into the boss’ office.
As receptionist-cum-typist for Jose Eduardo, the lawyer, part of my job description was to protect him from people who had not taken a prior appointment. Leastways, that is what I imagined it would be. In two years of working with Mr Ed, such a situation had not actually arisen.
I emerged from behind my desk and opened the door to the office.
“And when I have finished with you…”
“Ah, sir?…”
Both the occupants of the room gave me a ‘look’. “You may take the rest of the day off, Annie,” nodded Mr Ed, distractedly. “I’ll see you tomorrow after I return from court.”
“Yes, Mr Ed.” I backed out of the room and closed the door. Mr Ed had forgotten that I had not yet given him the file he needed for the court tomorrow.
Jose Eduardo was an attorney operating at the low end of the lucrative Las Vegas legal ladder. Material possessions really were of little consequence for him; he much preferred fishing in Utah to competing on fast cars and dark suits. There was plenty of work at the bottom end as Las Vegas is not just home to rich casino owners and people who do not know what better to do with their money or who possess compulsive disorders. It is also home to a supporting cast of thousands of people just trying to make a living from the entertainment industry – cashiers and policemen, typists and beauticians, taxi drivers and prostitutes. The temptations of the industry often led to crimes and misdemeanors which attorneys such as Mr Ed helped sort out.
I wondered what the blond hulk would need from Mr Ed. He hadn’t called in advance to seek an appointment, and he certainly hadn’t been begging him for help when last heard. There are plenty of hulks in Las Vegas, but they tend to have their own ways of dealing with the law which often do not involve lawyers. The hulks are backed by powerful people from the industry who keep the fast cars and dark suits going.
As I walked across to the filing cabinet, Archer Hamilton stepped in through the glass door. Archer is a hunk, long and lean and has abs, I bet, under his fitted shirt. He owns the most potent green eyes that I have ever come across and streaky dirty-blond hair that does not come from a bottle. He also has an ego the size of an eighteen-wheeler and just as solid.
Archer tends to notice people, even receptionists. “Hey, babe!” The grin brought out the grooves in his face, and the dent in his chin. I had to head for my chair. “Is Mr Ed in?”
I shuffled a few A-4s on the desk. “I’m sorry, Mr Hamilton, but he’s in a meeting right now.”
“Great!” he beamed. “So you can come down for a cup of coffee to help me wait. I need to hand him this file on Rhea Martin.”
“Just give it to me, Hamilton, and let’s call it quits for the day,” I snarled, piling the A-4s in a heap. His hundredth invitation to coffee, and I was pretty damn sick of his way of passing the time.
He leaned across my desk. I smelled the cool clean cologne on him.
“Bet you want to see Rhea Martin’s photos of getting it off with the bouncer.” He waved the brown envelope at me. “Got real cool views here. She better look into her pre-nuptial agreements.”
Two shots from behind the boss’ door.
The next second, Archer had knocked me to the floor and leapt across the desk. His handgun was already pointed at the door.
The door crashed open – did the bad guy never quietly slip through doorways? – and another shot pinged at the metal filing cabinet. Archer ducked behind it, still holding me down with one hand. He loosed off a round, but the glass door was already swinging shut.
The staircase down to the lobby and the exit was right in front of the glass door marked ‘Jose Eduardo, Lawyer’. Archer vaulted over the desk, and I scooted out from under it. As he shoved open the door, I snatched up the plastic tray from the coffee rack. The mugs clattered to the carpet.
With a wide sweep, I tossed the tray at the feet of the blond hulk leaping down the stairs. It caught him around the ankles, and he off-balanced a couple of steps. Archer got in another couple of shots and one of them twisted him around. With a howl of rage and pain, he brought his gun hand around and pulled the trigger. But we were already flat against the wall. The glass door shattered into a spray of splintered bits and disintegrated. We took cover on the floor, Archer slamming his body over mine. I felt every inch of him.
By the time Archer poked his head around the corner, the blond hulk was in his black sedan and roaring down the avenue. We saw him as we raced down the stairs and out the main door, but he turned a corner and was gone. Archer pulled out his cell and punched in 911, while I rushed back up the stairs, through the empty doorway, and to the boss’ office.
Mr Ed was lying in a heap behind his large wooden desk, the front of his white shirt now scarlet, and the blood seeping into the carpet. He was dead.
I stared at him, my boss for two years, in general a kind and considerate boss, even though he did get mad when I forgot to take messages while he was in court, a man who worked long hours for little money, and sometimes fished in Utah.