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“He was just joking. He also said that he would be happy to meet you in person.”
    “He did?” Max asked, warily.
    “Yes, Max, he did. He’d like to arrange something for next week. He’s out of town all this week on vacation, but we’re going to speak at the beginning of next week and set something up.”
    Max exhaled loudly into the phone, feeling great relief.
    “But don’t get your hopes set too high. They’re meeting with a few other candidates, and there’s a chance they might want to go with an Asian or an African American, so we’ll just have to wait and see.”
    “No, I understand, it’s just that, well, at least it’s something. I really would hate to end up at Denny’s as a waiter.”
    “Oh, Max, no matter what, you won’t end up at Denny’s,” Laurie reassured him. “Discovery Channel is always looking for new people, and KRON in San Francisco might be looking for an entertainment correspondent, so don’t panic quite yet.”
    “Thanks, Laurie, thanks for not dropping me immediately.”
    “Sweetie, I would never drop you. I’m your agent and friend, for better or for worse, through sickness and in health . . . with pants or without.”
    “Ha ha, very funny.”
    After she hung up, Laurie scribbled a note on Max’s file: Reevaluate in three months .

three

    “K nock knock,” Leigh Bushmoore said, leaning in the doorway of Executive Producer Howard Toast’s office.
    Looking up from his desk and seeing Leigh standing there in her two-piece beige cashmere sweater and skirt (A TSV from last month), Howard smiled. “Knock knock right back at you. Care to, uh, join me on the casting couch?” He winked and glanced in the direction of the leather sofa against the wall.
    Closing the door behind her and pushing the lock button on the doorknob, Leigh walked around Howard’s desk and stood in front of him, smiling seductively and fingering the eighteeninch strand of freshwater pearls around her neck. “Well, I guess I really should thank you for my recent promotion. Or is it Max I should be thanking?”
    He rose from his chair, placed his arms around Leigh’s trim waist, and whispered in her ear. “I don’t think Max is the sort of man who would appreciate a thank-you like that.”
    She pressed her body into his and softly kissed his neck. “I’ve missed you,” she said. Constantly , she didn’t add.
    After they made love on the throw rug, Leigh asked Howard, “When are we going to spend some real time together, not just these little afternoon escapades, but dinner or a movie? You know, those things two people do together when they care about each other?”
    Leaning over to kiss her cheek, Howard assured her that as soon as the divorce proceedings were set into motion, which would be any week now, everything would be different between them. She smiled, wanting to believe him.
    He stood and zipped his fly. “But, sweetheart, you know that it would be too risky for us to take chances right now. We need to act responsibly. I promise you, it won’t be like this forever.”
    “I know, I’m sorry,” Leigh said. She hated herself for acting like this. “I don’t mean to pressure you, it’s just that, oh, never mind, I do understand, I really do.”
    Howard looked at her, her dark hair, tight ringlets of curls that collected across her shoulders, her eyes a rich brown, “like amber,” he once told her. He studied her fine features, her long neck and legs. “Don’t forget your panties,” he said, pointing under the couch.
    Leigh stood, slipped into the panties, then adjusted her top and smoothed her skirt. “Well, I better be running along, I’ve got some stuff I need to get caught up on.”
    “You do that. And don’t you worry.” He wagged his finger at her. “I love you, and I just need you to be strong for me. For us.”
    Leigh nodded her head. “Well, thanks again,” she said, then added quickly, “I mean for the hours.” Before turning to leave, she paused.