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“You’re missing the point. Angie’s news about the pregnancy just needs to be revealed in a public setting. That’s all I meant. Someplace where Jack is caught off guard. Comedy is always better when the characters—and the viewers—are caught off guard.”
    “Well, I know, but—”
    “Great idea.” Bob rose and began to pace the room, olive jar in hand. “Let’s think it through. Maybe they’re in a restaurant—Cuban, so the viewers will make the connection—and the bandleader sings ‘We’re Having a Baby,’ the song that Ricky sang to Lucy when he got the news.” Bob swallowed another kalamata whole.
    “Ooo, better idea,” Paul said. “The children they represent through the talent agency can all be there, hiding in the wings. They can sing the song to Jack.”
    I shook my head. “How will Jack know the song is a message to him from Angie? Besides, it’s too creepy to imagine a group of children singing ‘We’re Having a Baby.’” A shiver ran down my spine at the very idea.
    Paul sighed. “Okay, fine.”
    Bob pursed his lips for a moment. “Maybe Angie can give Jack the news—minus the kids—and then the bandleader calls him up to the stage to sing the song.”
    “Who do we get to play the bandleader?” I asked, almost caught up in the idea. “It’s got to be someone who can look, act, and sing like Desi Arnaz if we stand a shot at pulling this off.”
    Not that I think we can pull this off, just for the record. But I’ll play along if it will make you two happy.
    Bob snapped his fingers. “I know! George Lopez.”
    “George Lopez the comedian?” I asked. “Does he sing?”
    “Who cares?” Bob said. “He’ll only have to sing a line or two, then he’ll call Jack up onto the stage to finish the song. He’s going to be perfect.”
    “I’m still not sure about this,” I said. “Besides, if we use a recorded song, we’ll have to pay royalties. That’s problematic.”
    “We use recorded music all the time.” Paul gave me a pensive look. “Besides, advertisers pay for all that stuff. So what’s the big deal?”
    “You don’t like this idea, Athena?” Bob asked.
    I shrugged, unsure of how I felt right now. With so much coming at me so fast, maybe I just needed time to process it. If we threw Angie into a pregnancy, it would change absolutely everything about the dynamics of the show. Did we want to do that? All to bring the ratings up? Would it even work, or would it backfire on us?
    “I think we need to slow down a minute,” I said after thinking things through. “I’m not sure the time is right to add a pregnancy this season. It’s not settling well with me, and I’ll bet it won’t go over well with Rex either.” I could only imagine the look on his face if we tried to pass on this news to him. We could very well throw him into a panic. Then again, he was the one who’d pushed to get Angie and Jack hitched last season. Maybe he’d love this idea.
    “Have some olives.” Bob passed the jar my way. “Nothing like a kalamata to break down your defenses so we can talk you into this.”
    I rolled my eyes.
    “What?” He feigned innocence. “It’s a brilliant idea, Athena. Admit it. Solves so many problems and increases our opportunity ten times over. Maybe a hundred.”
    The two guys rambled on and on about Kat—er, Angie’s—baby. A boy. Somewhere along the way Bob started calling him “Little Ricky.”
    I sat in my chair, mouth closed, completely zoned out. I somehow managed to finish off the jar of olives—well, all but one—along with three cookies. Okay, four. But who would notice? The guys were off in sitcom land, rewriting the old black-and-white television shows from days gone by. Me? I just wanted to keep this modern-day show alive. And I wasn’t sure that impregnating the sitcom’s female lead was the way to go about it. Not that I had any better ideas.
    At some point Bob took a seat on the sofa next to me and kicked off his shoes. His