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eye, writing talent, and dedication to youth that we value and need.”
    Okay. He knows my résumé and can lay the compliments on well. “Thank you, Mr. Paisley, but—”
    â€œPlease, call me Em.”
    â€œUh, okay. Thanks, Em, but at this point in my writing career, I’m not sure if I want to go back to the daily grind of a nine-to-five.”
    What he wanted to say was at this point in his life . He’d gotten accustomed to (and become quite fond of his freedom as) a stay-at-home (god)father.
    Em was there once again to turn a negative against Palmer into a positive. “At Palmer, it could be a ten-to-six. Or an eleven-to-seven. Even a noon-to-eight. We believe in working around the life schedule of our employees. And we know giving up the freedom you enjoy now may be hard to do. But we’re willing to make you an offer you can not refuse.”
    Oh? Mitchell couldn’t wait to hear—or, rather, read—about it.
    And Em couldn’t wait to let him. “Is there a number I can fax the proposal over to?”
    Em was on it. Mitchell gave him the number.
    â€œGreat,” Em chirped. “It’ll explain the position, what the magazine’s mission is, the launch schedule we’re on, and a little background on us. You should receive twelve pages. If you don’t, do let me know.”
    â€œAll right. What’s the name of the magazine?”
    â€œIt doesn’t have one yet. That, along with its final look, style, and point of view, is something you, uh, the editor-in-chief will decide.”
    The man is focused—and persistent.
    â€œAfter you’ve had the weekend to consider the proposal, let’s talk Monday morning. Or, better yet, you can come into the office and we can discuss things in person.”
    Mitchell wasn’t about to commit to a meeting, no matter how persuasive the man was. Besides, if he really wanted to hire him, he’d have to work on his timetable. “I won’t be able to get back to you until Monday afternoon. If I like what I see on paper, maybe we can meet on Tuesday.” He might as well enjoy this; he hadn’t had many enthusiastic offers lately (truth be told, he hadn’t had any).
    Em was agreeable. “Okay. That’s fine.” Then he decided to leave no loose ends. “If you have a question or concern over the weekend, my cell and home phone numbers will be included, so don’t hesitate to call. And, if—and I do hope it’s a big if—we can not convince you to join the staff, I’m sure we could come up with an arrangement that would satisfy us all. But do know that we would very much like to have you on board.”
    â€œThanks. I appreciate the interest and consideration.”
    â€œNo, thank you for the interest and consideration. You should receive the fax in the next minute. I do look forward to hearing from you on Monday—if not sooner—and working with you in the very near future. Have a good weekend.”
    â€œYou too.”
    â€œGood-bye.”
    â€œGood-bye.”
    Ten seconds later, the fax rang. All twelve pages came through. He read the proposal in ten minutes—and ten minutes and one second was all it took.

Chapter 4
    I t had been a loooong time since Troy, Raheim’s agent, had a job for him. Not a gig—which is what his “acting” in cable series like The Justice Files, The FBI Files , and anything else with a files or justice in its title was—but a job. He was thankful for the work: because of the reputation he earned for not being dependable, it was a miracle that even those in the criminal-reenactment genre would take a chance on him. And the pay was jood: along with his walk-ons (the Law & Order franchise), commercials (Verizon Wireless, American Airlines, Amtrak, Citibank, and Target), and infomercials (yup, that’s him doin’ the Ab Slide and the Body By Jake), he’s been able to settle his