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applause, led by Michelle, who’s on her feet, clapping with ferocity. Oh. My. God. No. Get out of town!
    I’m examining the expectant faces and want to just crawl away.
Fuck that. Take it. Own it.
And I feel my spine stiffen as I nod, with a self-effacing smile; false, yes, but I’m making an effort. And why the fuck not? I stepped up. I saved two innocent men from a fucking psycho.
Just take it
. I stood the fuck up! I came forward!
    The applause dies down and the intro continues, then Michelle gets up and does her thing. At around 5’3", 110 lbs, she’s a pocket dynamo, telling us about something called Morning Pages. — I don’t know if anybody has come across Julia Cameron of
The Artist’s Way
fame, and Morning Pages . . . Michelle peers over the top of her glasses, a hottie who doesn’t know it, as a forest of hands rise, — . . . good. I swear by them. They are so easy to do. You must write—longhand preferably—three pages, around 750 words, each morning. Stream of consciousness, uncensored stuff; anything that comes into your head. There are no right or wrong ways to do this. This frees up your thoughts for the rest of the day. I’d add one caveat: do not do this with a snack in your hand!
    Some laughter, and then we’re down to business as Michelle brilliantly disses the South Beach low-carb diet.
This
is
so
what I came to hear, not artsy writing shit. — A diet without an exercise program is like an exercise program without a diet, just another useless fad, Michelle says, focused like a stone-cold killer, those bright eyes burning me. I’m digging the way her head moves to the side on that surprisingly long neck, and her perky little breasts straining against that tight blouse. — People don’t get obese by eating the wrong stuff or by living a sedentary lifestyle. They do it through both. The attack on obesity has to be holistic. The fad diet is dead!
    Cue big cheers from the audience, many of whom are from the personal-training community. I recognize one needy bitch who works out of Crunch, and a fag from Equinox. But only
one
is getting a quick chat with Michelle afterward. I’m straight up there, and even the most competitive motherfuckers in the training fraternity
stand the fuck down
and let
this hero
be the first to get into Michelle’s face. As well as the chat, I’m rewarded with her business card and her personal email address! — Drop me an email, Lucy, we should talk, she smiles, then turns wearily, with an apologetic shrug, to face the demanding crowd.
    I’m driving back home, almost in a state of rapture. I press the remote to open the gates. I park in the rear lot and head up to my apartment. The back-stair bulb on the second floor needs to be replaced. It’s dark, and I can’t see jack. Then a noise, a blast of music and some voices above me. I feel my body tense, but it’s only kids from the apartment below heading out. The young DJ guy who lives there nods to me, as his entourage file past. I get into the apartment and head straight for my laptop.

4
CONTACT 1
----
    To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
    Subject: TV pilot
    Lucy,
    Lovely to meet you at your apartment this morning!
    As soon as you decide on your representation issue, do let me know, as I’d like to get things rolling on this pilot as fast as possible. In the meantime, I’m enclosing a document outlining some of our ideas for the show, which we’ll expand upon more at our meeting, which I’ve scheduled for tomorrow afternoon. Does that still work for you? I stress that these are only ideas at this point, nothing is written in stone, and your own input will obviously be invaluable. We were looking at the photographs and footage again, and my colleagues here in production all agree: we have a highly photogenic, potential TV star on our hands. We are so looking forward to working with you!
    Please don’t worry too much about any news crews or paparazzi outside your door. News