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stinky, sock-covered feet landed on the coffee table just inches from where I sat. From the look—and smell—of things, those socks hadn’t been changed in a couple of days. Disgusting. Who could think with that sort of distraction?
    I squeezed my eyes shut, ready to focus on a plan of action, one we could all live with. Strange, I could only see Kat—er, Angie—with a baby bump. She would kill me if we went through with this. And no telling what Lenora would do. In her current state of mind, she would probably think Kat was really pregnant. Did we want to stir up that kind of drama? My mind reeled as I contemplated the complications this plot twist could cause.
    “Athena? You still with us?” Paul drew near and knelt at my side. “You haven’t said anything for the last several minutes.”
    Thank goodness I didn’t have to answer. The phone rang, startling me. I picked it up and recognized Rex’s voice.
    “Athena, I’m headed down to your office in a few minutes,” he said. “Lots going on, so we need to talk. Gather the troops.”
    “Talk? About what?” My heart began to race.
    “Big news from network execs,” he said. “It’s important that we get some things settled, okay?”
    “O-okay.” I hung up the phone, more unnerved than ever.
    “Who was that?” Bob asked.
    I managed only three words: “The man upstairs.” My thoughts gravitated to our sitcom characters, Angie and Jack. What sort of parents would they be? Would they offer their children the ideal home environment, like my mom and dad had, or would they argue and fight over every little thing?
    Athena, are you actually thinking about this pregnancy angle?
    Hmm. Maybe I was. In fact, the more I thought about it, the greater the appeal. Like the guys said, it would add conflict to the show and would give us a really cool way to wrap up the season when the time came. Boy, could we add a lot of humor. And the possibilities for conflict were everywhere, especially if the pregnancy caused Angie to have to step back from her workload.
    Within minutes, Paul and Bob had me talked into the nutty idea. I could almost hear my father’s voice in my head now: You know what Aristotle said, Athena-bean. “No one ever creates anything great without a dash of madness.” Right now I felt plenty mad. In a wacky, creative sort of way. And why not? This might turn out to be a lot of fun. Or it might just be the end of my career, but at least I’d go out with a smile on my face.
    “When did Rex say he was coming?” Paul asked.
    “Any time now. Why?”
    “Because . . .” Bob quirked a brow, then reached into the toy box behind the desk—the one he’d lovingly named the Muse. He came out with a soccer ball, which he passed my way. “Put this on.”
    “Excuse me?”
    “Stick it under your shirt. That’s how we’ll tell Rex about the pregnancy idea. He’ll get a kick out of it.” Bob snorted. “Get it? A kick out of it?” He pointed to the soccer ball, then doubled over in laughter.
    “Oh no you don’t.” I shook my head and pressed the ball back into his hands. “Not gonna do it. You can’t make me. There’s got to be a better way to break the news.”
    “You’re such a girl.” Paul groaned as he looked on. “Why don’t females ever just go along with things? Why do they always have to argue?”
    I started to respond but decided it would probably come out sounding like an argument, so I capped it. Bob tossed the ball my way, startling me. I caught it midair and sighed. Okay, I would play along. They’d never let me hear the end of it if I didn’t.
    I turned away from the guys and wriggled the soccer ball up under my new white blouse. As I did, that sick, squeamish, “you’re gonna regret this” feeling washed over me. Still, I couldn’t chicken out now, could I? Not after what Paul had said about females.
    With the ball situated, I turned back to face the guys and shrugged. “Okay, so what do you think?”
    Paul looked at me,