I should have known that we would wind up sleeping together again when he offered to bring over my mail.

Okay, wait, already I see some questions from the jury and if there's one thing I've learned in these past five weeks it's that details are important. So let me start at the beginning.

I was at my workstation. Work was going well these days. Everyone had been treating me a little bit kinder since the article came out. The one where my animated character, Esme, who is a bespectacled smart-aleck 13-year-old, was called "a feminist icon for the tween generation." This got me praise all the way up the ranks to the head of the adult networks.

Now in meetings, people were likely to say something to the tune of "Let's ask Rebecca if she thinks this accurately represents the audience." I kind of liked it, but it kind of made me feel like I had a lot to live up to.

All my friends were convinced that Esme was based on them. Kathy knew it was her because of the glasses. She never fell for the "men don't make passes" bullshit and more than once convinced me to spend far too much money in Selima. I hadn't even known about the trendy SoHo eyewear store until Kathy opened my eyes to the wonder of its glass cases and funky frames.

Beth thought it was her because she was sure that Esme was Portuguese like she was, and felt like Tommy — her brother, my ex — had a big influence on my creation. And of course, Lauryn, my roommate, was certain that Esme's detective skills were derivative of her discoveries of her now-ex-husband Jordan's money troubles and infidelities.

In reality they were all wrong. Esme, my character, who was dubbed one of the 10 coolest chicks in entertainment, was everything I'd wished I was as a teen or tween or whatever you wanted to call it. Esme was a gamma girl, totally comfortable with her looks and her brains. Totally unlike who I was at 13 or even who I was 13 years later at 26.

It seemed to me like everyone was making a big deal out of nothing. Esme's Enlightenments wasn't even a show. It was just 60-second interstitials that aired during the kids' block on weekend mornings. I doubt anyone noticed them. I think the magazine was trying to be hip by even mentioning Esme. I didn't think everyone was going to make such a big deal about it. I didn't expect there to be photocopies of the article (actually, it was just a page with a picture and a blurb) in everyone's mailbox. I didn't expect the general manager to mention it in his weekly memo. And I definitely didn't expect the ad in Weekly Variety.

I was thinking about all this and how nice it would be if I had someone I could really talk to about it all, someone like Tommy, who I used to be able to talk to about this stuff. Then the phone rang and it was Tommy.

"Hey," he said. "I was certain you'd have someone answering your phone for you. Some little peon."

"C'mon. It was just one little article in a magazine that nobody reads."

"More people read it than my magazine."

"That's comforting." Tommy had started a gaming magazine. He was obsessed with video games. It was part of the reason we broke up. "So what's up? Your thumb got a cramp or something?"

"Very funny. No, I just wanted to see how you were. You know, say hi. See how it was going with the scorned woman." He was talking about Lauryn.

"C'mon, Tommy, Jordan's the dick."

"That's right. Think about how much of a gem I am compared to Jordan. Put that in your pipe and smoke it with those girlfriends of yours."

"It isn't fair. Your sister is a traitor."

"Believe me, Beth's taken your side. My whole family is on your side."

Doesn't it sound like we get along wonderfully? Like we're totally cool with the whole dissolution of our relationship? Well, let me tell you, part of being a grand juror means that you have to hear all the evidence before you decide to indict.

In other words, don't assume.

"So why are you calling me?" See, I can cut right to the chase.

"Honestly, I wanted to congratulate you on the press."

"Well, thank you." I was kind of smiling and twirling in my chair.

"I also got a shitload of mail for you. We got a wedding invitation, from your side. I think your cousin Cheryl. You'll have to get a date. You got your credit card bill and something from New York County. I bet it's jury duty." There it was, my sentence, but I was so innocent then. I was almost flirting. I missed him, if I must tell the whole truth. I missed him a lot. "I could drop it off if you want."

"Actually, I wanted to pick up that lamp. Do you want me to come over? I mean, to pick up my mail."

"Yeah, really. I could make you some dinner."

"That's okay. I'll just grab my mail."

When I called Lauryn to see if she wanted me to bring anything home, I mentioned that I was stopping by Tommy's place. Although I slipped and called it "our place."

"If you don't make the break in your mind, Rebecca, you're never going to make it in your heart."

"Right, Lauryn. I'm just picking up my mail. Don't pull out the Dr. Phil yet."

* * *

I walked up 9^th Avenue from the studio to my old apartment in Hell's Kitchen. I really missed the area. I sighed when I passed Don Giovanni's. It was there that Tommy first proposed that we live together. Now I wonder if that was when our whole relationship started to suffer.
 

What I didn't miss was the walk up five flights after Tommy buzzed me in. He was standing with the door open when I got up the stairs. He held out a glass of white wine, my favorite vinho verde.

"Hi," I said kissing him on the cheek. "Thanks."

"Hey." I was relieved to see he wasn't wearing the usual sweats and a T-shirt. In fact, it seemed that he was intentionally wearing my favorite button-down shirt. I stepped into formerly our, now his, apartment. I smelled sausage.

"Have you been cooking?" I asked.

"Yeah, my mom sent down some chorizo. I'm making some pasta. I hoped you'd stay for dinner."

"Okay," I agreed too quickly. Tommy didn't cook that well except when it came to Portuguese food. His mom had taught him and Beth really well.

I took a quick scan of the living room while Tommy went to put on the pasta. The place seemed amazingly clean. I think he had even put the PlayStation 2 controller away. The table, which was usually covered with game boxes and papers, was set and there were even two pathetic melted-down candles stuck in the center.

"Did you get a cleaning lady?"

"No, just straightened up a bit."

"Well, it looks nice." He brought in some carrots and hummus. I took one and dipped it as he poured me some more wine.

"So what did old Hackett say about the press?" Hackett was the head of programming.

"He covered his ass really well. Caught me in the kitchen and congratulated me as if the whole thing had been his idea."

"That figures, the asshole." I liked that Tommy knew all my stories. It was just easy to feel comfortable around him. He finished up the wine in his glass and poured the last of the bottle into our two glasses.

"Shit, it's done," I said giggling. I guessed I had been sort of gulping it, partly because it went down so smooth and partly because I was nervous to be seeing him.

"That's okay. I got two more bottles. I'll go open one up."

"I knew it. I just knew it," Lauryn said when I answered the phone at work the next day. "That's why you based Esme on me. I could have told you that you were going to fuck him when you went to pick up your mail."

"Look, Lauryn, the last thing I need right now is 'I told you so.'"

"No, you probably need the morning-after pill." She had convinced me to throw away my pills with her in some kind of pagan type ceremony that was supposed to symbolize our freedom from men. It was pretty scary and now I regretted humoring her.

"He had condoms."

"Interesting." I knew it was. We hadn't needed condoms in about two years. After both of us took the necessary tests and decided to be monogamous, I had gotten on the pill. It was very interesting that he happened to have condoms handy. I knew that Lauryn would suspect the worst, but even then I was hesitant to trust circumstantial evidence.

"Well, I'm glad they were there and — Shit!" My other line was beeping. I could see it was Hackett. "Lauryn, it's the head of programming. I'll talk about this with you tonight."

"Try not to make any pit stops on the way home, huh?"

"Thanks." I clicked over to the other line. "Rebecca Cole."

"Hi, Becky." Becky? "It's Matt Hackett. I was wondering if you could have a meeting with me today at 11."

"Sure," I said, a little petrified that his assistant, Meg, wasn't scheduling this. The meeting would be in 20 minutes.

"Great, see you then."

I really can't think of anyone who could find any acceptable reason to refuse meeting with the head of programming. But, it was weird that he called himself.

I came in late today. Now, like most animators, we started at around 10 and it was pretty casual, but lately I'd been coming in around 10:30. I think the article thing had gotten to my head a bit. It was like a get-out-of-jail-free card. I hadn't been the efficient little worker bee I usually was. I was ducking out early, coming in late. I knew I was going to get my wrist slapped eventually, but I hadn't expected Matt Hackett to do it himself.

I had good intentions this morning. I snuck out of my (fuck!) — Tommy's — place and got halfway to work when I realized that I left my mail on the kitchen counter. I had to go back.

And he was up when I got back. He had already taken his position on the couch with controller in hand. I could hear the swell of the Grand Theft Auto 3 soundtrack when I opened the door. I wondered if he had been pretending to be asleep when I left.

"Hey," he said, pausing the game. "I'm glad you had to came back to say goodbye. You made a pretty quick, quiet escape. I was beginning to think you were Lara Croft or something."

All of Tommy's references these days were video game related. And they kind of had to be since he started the gaming magazine with his friend Mike. Still, it bugged me. I was annoyed that he was already in the throes of a game that I knew he wasn't reviewing at 9:30 in the morning. So I owned up to the real reason I came back.

"Forgot the mail."

"Oh," he said, looking sad, "yeah."

He turned the game back on. I wondered which one of us would be the first to bring up last night.

"I'm going to use the bathroom." I splashed some cold water on my face. I wished I had some skin care products here still. My skin felt extremely oily.

When I came out he asked if I wanted a cup of coffee. He had finished his game. I accepted a mug, but then remembered he didn't have any half-and-half. I only liked half-and-half in my coffee. Everything about being here felt familiar, but somehow wrong. I'm sure he felt the same way.

"Look, about yesterday" Good, at least he was bringing it up. It seemed like a small victory. "I didn't really intend for that to happen. It was great and really good to see you, but I won't let it happen again."

I had said pretty much the same thing the last time this happened. I nodded and sipped my bitter black coffee. He looked over toward the Spiderman clock in the kitchen.

"I think you should really make sure your mail goes to Lauryn's. If any more comes here, I'll give it to Beth." Wow! I knew he was right, but as he said that, I realized that would mean I wouldn't be back. I had subconsciously moved out really slowly so I could keep coming back. I loved this place. Maybe I should have fought harder to stay.

"Okay." I said. I was kind of stunned. "I got to get to work."

* * *

I thumbed through the mail while I waited for my sentence with Hackett. My cousin Cheryl was marrying her boyfriend, Dan. Great, I'd have to find another date. Better still, I had to explain to my entire family all the reasons why Tommy and I were no longer together. I'm sure then they would all tell me what they really thought of him without solicitation. I couldn't wait for that.

Next was my credit card bill. I owed about $10,000. Paying for the movers two months ago didn't do much to help that. I scanned the bill to see if there were any charges on there that were Tommy's. Oh, god! I was still looking for excuses to have to call him. This had to stop. I had to just make a clean break. It was what I intended. I just hadn't expected it to be so hard.

There were a couple of catalogs I knew Tommy had already flipped through. He had a strange obsession with catalogs. I had to stop referring everything back to him. I was almost as bad as Lauryn.

The last piece of mail I had was a summons to appear tomorrow and be considered for grand jury qualification. I had gotten one of those notices a couple of months ago. When I went down to the courthouse, I was told that I would be summoned in the next few months. If I was selected as a grand juror, I would have to serve for 20 business days every afternoon or morning. I could only defer for up to six months. Now, they had me and I had to report. Great.

* * *

I knocked on Matt Hackett's door at one minute to 11. He motioned for me to come in. He was finishing up a call.

"I know, we're so pleased. I'm certain it's going to be big. Sponge Bob who? They'll say... I know I know, look at Britney.... This demo is more Julia Stiles...absolute licensing tie-ins. Uh-huh...yeah. Well, she's here now. I'll give you a call."

I couldn't fathom that anything he was talking about could have to do with me, but I sat up straighter when he looked up at me. I was ready with an excuse about a sick cat if the lateness came up.

"How are you, Becky?" No one calls me Becky.

"Great, Matt, how are you?" Hackett had been in the business forever. It was weird to call him Matt, but that was one of the weird rules of the network. Everyone must call everyone by his or her first name. The idea being that we were all equals. I looked around at the size of Matt's office. We were so not equal.

"Terrific," he said. I almost expected him to have a cigar, but that would be a real infraction of company rules. "Much better since Esme's been getting such great publicity. Did you hear the Times is going to do something in Arts & Leisure this weekend?" I hadn't. I wish I read more.

"I thought tweens was old news."

"Absolutely not. Have you seen the research findings? This stuff is testing off the charts. Even with boys. They think of Esme as a tech head. They like her. She's got all-around appeal." I didn't know if I should thank him or if I could interrupt the flow. "So the big guys upstairs said to me, why is it just an interstitial. Why not a show? I said, great idea. We'll have a pilot by the upfront."

"The upfront?" I had to interrupt him. "That's, like, six weeks away." The upfront was the yearly conference where advertisers got together to decide how much money they would spend on a channel based on its programming. They needed to see polished samples. This was big time.

"Well, I spoke with Kim and she told me you had about four 60s ready to go."

"Yeah, I'm working on them, but that's only four minutes of non-narrative story. There's no way we can get a pilot." Hackett looked at me and I knew that no one contradicted him.

"Of course, we'll get you some help. We're taking two animators off Diamond Clubhouse and hiring you an assistant. Congratulations, you're now the executive producer of Esme. Just keep doing what you're doing and keep curriculum in mind. After the upfront, we'll go into full-blown production to have 13 eps by fall. Now, go get started. Make us proud. I got Meg working on your staffing."

"Oh, okay." I felt as though a bus had hit me. "Thanks."

I left his office and went to sit in one of the bathroom stalls. I should have been happy to be promoted, but instead I felt sick. I had six weeks to come up with a 22-minute pilot. Brand-new stories and brand-new animation. When I was done with that, I'd have five months to get 13 episodes ready. It didn't seem possible.

Everyone's got a way to get out of jury duty:

"Tell them your sister's a lawyer," Kathy said.

"Don't show," Beth said.

"Say you were a victim of a violent crime," said Jen, my new assistant, who also happened to be Matt Hackett's niece.

"Tell them you hate men," Lauryn said. She was quite serious. We were in line at Whole Foods. Neither of us felt like cooking so we just sampled a bunch of the prepared foods and then hit the salad bar. "Or has that changed since you had your orgasm?"

"Two," I said, honestly, but wanting to get her goat all the same. I hoped the line guy hadn't heard me.

"Number nine is yours," he said pointing to us. We walked up to cash register nine.

"I can't believe you," she said, putting some organic tampons on the counter. "You'd think you could restrain yourself after everything he's done."

"Lauryn, he didn't do anything. That's part of the problem. I lost him to his GTA 3 inertia. In case you forgot, I was the one who moved out."

"I think you're in denial," she said once we were outside and walking to her, fuck, our apartment. "Really, I think you're making excuses for the fact that you're not over him."

"I never said I was over him. I just needed to get away from the incessant sounds of explosions and gunfire."

"Don't forget the toys," she said. I knew she was right, but I didn't say anything until we got home and started eating.

Tommy had always been into collecting things: comic books; figurines; movie posters; and old school arcade games. There was barely enough room in our apartment for all of that junk. I was blind to it at first, thought it was a cute little quirk that Tommy had. Then he started his magazine, Toys and Games. And then things got worse. I realized I was dating a child.

Our relationship ratings went down. I needed a big stunt. My jump-the-shark move was requesting a dog. I thought it would be the first step toward responsibility. It would be great, since he worked from home on the magazine. I figured he'd have some time between games and writing to take the dog for a walk.

"I'm just too busy for that, Rebecca," he said, not even bothering to pause Tony Hawk. When we stopped having sex soon after that, I pretty much decided it was over.

I spent the better part of the day after Hackett gave me what should have been my dream job moving my stuff from my workstation to my office. I also had to meet my new animators, John and Janice, and set up some schedules with Jen.

Jen was very eager to help me. I expected her to be kind of spoiled because she had gotten this job through her uncle, but she seemed too enthusiastic. She insisted on calling me Becky, and that meant that John and Janice also called me Becky. I was beyond correcting them.

I suspected there was something going on between John and Janice, but as soon as I saw the number of empty soda cans in their trash, I realized these guys may have been doing it, but they were hopped up on caffeine and hardworking. That was what it was going to take to get this pilot off the ground in six weeks. It gave me a glimmer of confidence.

That confidence was quickly shattered when I realized that everyone expected me to make this show happen. Being the executive producer meant I kind of had to tell them what to do. Animating and maybe writing some dialogue were things I could do, but managing other people was not. Plus, if this whole thing failed, it meant I would fail. It meant that, god, who even knew what they would do to me.

I never wanted to have this kind of responsibility.

And now, I had to head down to 100 Centre St. to find out if I would also be serving New York County for the next 20 days, as if my life wasn't busy enough.

I was running late, of course, but the place was packed. It seemed like everyone was scheduled to show up for jury duty at the same time. The courtroom was standing room only. A man with a heavy Bronx accent told us that when we heard our name we had to say morning, afternoon, or excused.

"But if you excuse yourself this time, folks, your name just goes back into the computer and we call next month and every month for six months. Eventually, we're gonna get you, so it's best to volunteer now."

He said "volunteer" as if we weren't compelled to be here. It seemed that there was no way for me to even try out any of the excuses my friends and coworkers had supplied. The only way to excuse myself was to live in a different county.

I'm a firm believer in getting things over with. I couldn't imagine how I was even going to be able to spare three hours a day for the next four weeks. At the same time, it seemed like the next six months were going to be even harder. If the pilot did well, I'd still have an actual show to produce.

There was still a chance that if I "volunteered" I wouldn't get called. I had always been lucky. I might as well chance it. The civil servant began calling out people's names.

"Cole, Rebecca," he said.

"Afternoon," I yelled. It would probably have been more time-efficient for me to go in the mornings since the session started at nine, but I was not a morning person and I couldn't imagine starting the day in a courtroom. Besides, I knew I wasn't getting picked. I had to have faith.

When all the hundreds of names had been called, the people who asked to be excused were released. This opened up some seats. I needed one after standing for so long.

The names of "volunteers" were put into a kind of wheel. They picked four morning juries and then they had to pick four afternoon juries. Each jury consisted of 23 people.

After three juries were picked, I was feeling pretty confident. If I got out of this "volunteering" thing without being picked, I would be excused for four years.

There were only five more jurors to be picked for the fourth and last jury. This was a testament to how easily the whole production was going to go. I was lucky, there was no denying it. Maybe not lucky in love, but lucky.

Three more and still not called. I should go to Vegas. I was certain to have more disposable cash with my promotion. Maybe I could make enough at blackjack to pay off all my awful debt.

"Cole, Rebecca."

"What?" I looked up. There were only two more to go and I was — shit! I was one of them. I was a grand juror for the next 20 days.

There is nothing like sitting in the hot courtrooms on the ninth floor of 60 Centre Street to put things in perspective.

Every day around 1:45 I dashed out of the office, entrusting Janice and John to keep on working and not wander into my new office for some recreational sex. I stopped to get an iced coffee at the little cart by the subway stop and waited on the long security line to get let into the building.

I was juror number three. So named because I sat front row. The whole thing was meant to be completely anonymous. At times, I regretted sitting in the first row, because that meant a lot of the witnesses looked at me as they testified. More often than not, what they saw was a giant yawn.

It wasn't awful, the actual experience. I mean, I could eat my lunch. There were lots of slow times when we were waiting to hear cases and I got a lot of work done. We got a 15-minute break every day and sometimes we even got released at 4:30. That's good, right?

I did luck out by not getting picked as the secretary or one of the forepeople. That would have sucked. I could have had to write stuff down or swear people in. Just being a grand juror meant all I had to do was listen and vote.

Some of the jurors liked to ask a lot of annoying questions of the witnesses, but most people just wanted to get the votes done, assuming that the quicker we voted, the quicker we'd get released. Don't get me wrong though, most people would only vote to indict when the evidence was presented. But the D.A.s did a good job and we usually indicted.

I had a lot of time to think about Tommy. I thought a lot, but didn't really reach any epiphanies. Esme was much better at coming to conclusions than her creator.

After the first week, I was exhausted. I was staying at work until 10 or 11 at night. I had to stay after Janice and John left. I was jealous that they each got to go home with each other, while I was working just as hard and went home to an empty bed.

They were both really talented, definitely better animators than I was, but they seemed to respect what I said about Esme. I noticed the character was starting to look different from the one I originally created.

If you ever watch early episodes of The Simpsons, you'll notice a difference between then and now. Esme was evolving in another animator's hand. She was looking a lot better than she looked when I drew her. The differences were subtle; I doubted the audience would notice, but I did. My baby was growing up.

Hackett insisted we have a status meeting on Monday so I could update him on progress. That meant I had to go in on Saturday. I slept until a decadent 11 and then went to work, promising Lauryn I would be home to go out for drinks with the girls tonight.

I found Jen typing away in her cube when I got in. Janice and John were also at their workstations. I hadn't asked for or expected anyone to be in on Saturday. I was impressed with their dedication. At the same time, I felt guilty for being the last one to get there. It was beginning to look as if we were a team.

"Hey," I said, smiling. "Doesn't anyone have a life anymore?"

"Not 'til after the upfront," said Janice, downing the last of a can of soda and throwing it into the trash. "Three points. John, can you toss me another one."

I sat in my office for a while, trying to iron out the second segment of the pilot. Animated shows were sometimes broken down into two 11-minute segments. Janice and John were working on a device to link the four minutes I had already almost completed. It was a stretch, but I think we'd found something that worked. I had to find another adventure for Esme to go on.

Around two I hit a block. I felt as though I'd blown my Esme load on all the other interstitials. What was I going to do if the show got picked up? I poked my head out of my office.

"Hey guys," I said. "If I buy pizza for lunch, can we have a quick brainstorm?"

John, who hardly said much, swiveled toward me in his chair. He nodded and said, "Need more caffeine."

The brainstorm went really well. It was the first time I got a sense of where everyone was coming from. John had some totally wacky ideas for adventures for Esme. Janice, like me, was into developing her character, making her a real grrrl. And Jen was remarkably attuned to curriculum, in other words, making sure the kids who watched the show actually learned something from it without knowing they were learning.

We all heightened each other's ideas. With a belly full of soda and pizza, I went back to my office and jammed out two possible scripts. I was feeling good. It may have been all the caffeine, but I was literally buzzing. The scripts were solid and Hackett would love having a choice.

Lauryn called at eight to make sure we were still meeting up at the place. At 9:30, I decided to leave and demanded that everyone go, too. I made them swear to the gods of caffeine and industry that they would not show their faces around here on Sunday.

In the cab to the bar I pulled my hair out of its ponytail and applied my favorite gloss. We were meeting up at a place that Zagat's said was "Vietnamese, Senegalese wheat-free fusion with a South American accent." Beth had picked it. I had no idea what to expect.

The place was packed and rocking with Cuban music when I arrived. I made my way through the crowd to the tiny table for two where my three best friends were sitting.

"Finally, you're here," Lauryn said, exhaling smoke as she kissed me.

"We're already one in," said Kathy, winking before she kissed me.

"Honey, you look tired," Beth said, looking into my face after she kissed me. I was, but I didn't want to admit it. I had my game face on.

"My contacts are bothering me from staring at the computer all day."

"You should be wearing your glasses," Kathy said, tapping the side of her hot-pink cat-eyed specs.

I have no idea what I ate. As usual, we let Beth do the ordering, since she had done the research. She was usually pretty good about picking restaurants, but something about all these tastes didn't really mesh. No one wanted to admit it to her. We just kept drinking the Latin drinks.

Kathy was engaged and living in Jersey City with her fiancй. We got the latest updates on the wedding, which all of us were in.

Beth was dating some guy from work. It seemed to be going really well, except that he had invited her to go to The Dungeon with him and she wasn't sure if it was a hot new bar or a bondage club.

Lauryn was Lauryn, or at least the alien that seemed to have inhabited my friend's body since the unwelcome discovery that her young marriage was actually a "starter marriage" and Jordan, her ex, was interested in trading up. Lauryn liked to pretend she had "washed that dickwad right out of my hair," but in reality all roads led to Jordan. In my exhausted state the conversations were very confusing.

"So, we should have a dress-fitting in about two months," Kathy said.

"I'm thinking of making drapes out of my wedding dress and sending them to Jordan to hang in our old place."

"He absolutely loves going to foreign films with me," Beth said.

"I told you guys that Jordan fucked at least three people when he went to that conference in Cancun, right?" Lauryn said as we nodded.

"No, it's not really one case. It's many cases that we hear over four weeks. Some are continuous." I said.

"If I hadn't had to move out, I'd still be living in Westchester and Rebecca could have gotten out of this whole thing by not living in Manhattan County," Lauryn said. I was amazed at the conclusions she jumped to. In her mind, Jordan was responsible for everything.

"There is no way I would have moved out of the city," I said.

"Let's go to Barraza," Kathy said. It was the perfect thing to do. We needed more Latin drinks and dance partners who could take the lead.

I only managed two mojitos before exhaustion set in and I had to go. Beth decided to share a cab with me, while the other two, recently divorced and soon-to-be-married, didn't want the night to end.

In the cab, I closed my eyes and leaned back against the seat.

"Are you doing okay with everything?" Beth asked. It's not easy to have one of your best friends be the sister of your ex-boyfriend.

"Yeah," I said not wanting to have to talk about it. We arrived at my place and I leaned over to kiss Beth goodbye.

"Actually," Beth said, handing the cabbie some money. "I'll get out here with you."

"Look, Beth," I said as I let her into the apartment. "I was hoping I could just, you know, get some sleep."

"Well, I wanted to talk to you about what's going on with you and Tommy."

"Fine, I'll make some tea," I said. I was hoping to buy myself some time in the kitchen.

Lauryn, Beth, Kathy, and I lived together in college. The summer after we graduated, Jordan and Lauryn got married and I started dating Tommy. Beth hadn't been thrilled with the idea, but she opted to never really get involved. I tried to keep my friendship with her and my relationship with Tommy completely separate.

Of course, once I started spending holidays with Tommy's family, it became more difficult for the two relationships not to become intertwined. The most Beth and I ever talked about it was when Beth said that of all the girls Tommy ever dated, I was her favorite.

I had chickened out of telling her when I moved out by calling Kathy at work and asking her to relay the news. Now as I poured two cups of tea, I wondered what Beth could possibly have to say about the whole thing.

She was sitting on the couch, leafing through the copy of the On the Verge magazine that featured the thing on Esme. I handed her the cup and she smiled. "This is great exposure for you."

"I know, it's pretty cool." I could feel her looking at me, so I concentrated on blowing on my tea.

"Tommy told me about what happened the other night."

"Right," I said. I had seen witnesses evade revealing things about themselves when they testified. I wasn't going to volunteer anything unless I was asked outright.

"Do you think that was a good idea?"

"Um." I took a sip. It burned my tongue. "Probably not."

"Do you want to get back together with him?"

"Does he want to get back together with me?"

"That's not the way to answer." Neither one of us said anything for a minute. Then she said, "No."

"No?" I said. I was surprised. I was the one who moved out. When I lived there, I made things so easy for him. I put up with all his shit. I made sure he was fed and cleaned. So we hadn't really been sleeping together toward the end, but it was always good whenever we did. I couldn't believe he would have chosen this breakup. It was me who had been making a point. "Shit!"

"What?" I couldn't tell her that I was finally realizing that I had done all this to get some attention in the relationship. I could barely admit that to myself.

"What do you mean no?"

"I mean, I think he realizes that your relationship is kind of dead-end and he knows you're better off without him, but when you go over there and sleep with him, it confuses things."

"Look, it's not like I intended to sleep with him." That much is true. Of course, it didn't take much to convince me. "And since when do you even want to talk about me and your brother?"

"Rebecca, I love the both of you. You don't seem too happy with the way things are and he called me hysterically crying the day you moved out."

"He did?" I asked. He had just seemed angry when I got my stuff. "I can't belief he pulled himself away from HotShots Golf 3 long enough to notice."

"Rebecca!"

"It's true, Beth." Suddenly, I was losing my composure. The professional witnesses were much better than me. "I love your brother, but I was miserable for months. It's not much better now, but I think it's for the best. Damn!"

"Rebecca, don't cry." And of course it was too late.

I cried for a while. Beth was pretty good about staying with me and trying to cheer me up. "Hey, at least you're not as bad as Lauryn. You don't seem too bitter."

"I'm not, but I do really miss him. There were lots of good things about him, you know."

"Yeah, I do,"she said.

"You know, I just don't want to do this all again. I put time into your brother. It was comfortable. We had like, you know, shorthand. Remember when I broke my ankle playing tennis and he took me to the emergency room and stayed with me all night? Who's going to take me to the emergency room now?" I continued to cry.

"Well," Beth said, patting my head. "That was the first and last time I ever heard about you playing tennis."

I wiped my eyes and smiled at her. "I know this all sounds awful. I just got used to him."

"I know," Beth said, being much kinder than any of the D.A.s ever were. "I know."

* * *

The meeting with Hackett on Monday did not go as well as I thought it would. It was supposed to be an hour meeting and it lasted from 10 until I had to leave for jury duty. Of course, he gave me some attitude about leaving the meeting, but what could I do? It was my civic duty.

He liked the two new plots I had come up, but he wanted something more "dynamic" for the pilot.

"We need to get them hooked and keep them hooked. The ratings have to be big on this one. Big. It's got to sell the ad execs who are going to buy time on it. Give it a different approach, Becky. Try again."

Also, he had an issue with Esme's sister, Ellie, being such a big role. "I think we should give Esme a brother. How about Edwin? Let's create an Edwin. What do you say?"

What did I say? What did I say? What I should have said was that it was far too late in the game for him to be throwing this curveball. I should have reminded him that Ellie had been pivotal in the shorts that tested so well. I should have mentioned that the deadline was now four weeks away and that gave us no time to work in a new character and that we would virtually have to scrap what had already been done. I should have told him that just because he was the boss did not mean that he shouldn't make decisions in a timely fashion. And by the way, I should have said, Edwin is a shitty name.

What I said: "Um, well, I think those are great ideas. I'll talk it over with my team."

And then it was 1:30 and I had to run downtown. I couldn't find any of my team, who were certain to have a mutiny when they heard this development.

To add to the downward spiral of my day, the 4 and 5 train weren't running, so I had to take the local 6 to City Hall. It took forever. I was late getting to jury duty and caught attitude from the bailiff. The D.A. who was presenting a case made a point to inform me that I couldn't vote on one of the counts because I had missed important testimony from two witnesses. We never started on time except today of all days. Since I couldn't vote, it made my presence seem entirely futile.

During the break, I tried to call in to work to see if Jen could get everybody together to talk about what Hackett had said, but my phone was dead. I forgot to charge the battery last night.

"Fuck," I said. I banged my phone against the table in the break room.

"Um, there's a pay phone down the hall," I heard a voice say. Of course, I knew I was overreacting. I was growing dependent on my cell phone. It was silly.

"Thanks," I said. I looked up at the blue eyes behind the voice.

"It's impossible," Janice said. "There's no way."

We were having a meeting about what Hackett said. It wasn't going well at all. I knew I was asking for the impossible from my team, but it wasn't me asking, it was the big boss. It was my responsibility to make sure they produced and to buffer their complaints. It was a shitty position to be in, but it's what I signed on for when I got promoted. Although it didn't seem as though I ever had much of a choice.

"Look, I didn't use Ellie that much in the shorts," I said. "And she's young enough, so that we can doctor her up a bit to look like a boy, Edwin."

"We don't like to doctor up our work," John said, getting all self-righteous about his art. I thought about saying what I usually heard people say in these situations, which was, "It's just TV, it's not brain surgery." I didn't.

"Okay, everyone, listen." Fuck! Was I in any position to be the leader? Things had been so much simpler when Esme was just a creative side project I had done when I wasn't working on titles for the real shows. All the same, this was my moment to rally the troops. I had to do it.

"This isn't my choice. Sometimes, we all have to do things we don't want to do. We have to corrupt our creativity for the corporate agenda." I looked over at John, who was caressing his goatee. "Esme is like, my baby. Honestly, she's all I have right now." I directed this to Janice. She had a boyfriend. Maybe she could find a little pity for me.

"I know we're all working real hard on this. It's the worst time for me to have jury duty, but it's two more weeks. This is a great opportunity for all of us." This was to Jen. I knew she had ambition. "If this show gets picked up, if it's a success at the upfront, we're sitting pretty. That means more staff, more say, and maybe, hopefully..."

"More money," John said.

"Well," I wasn't going to say that. "Yeah, and more respect."

"When is your case over?" Jen asked. I explained to them, once again, that it wasn't one case. I was required to serve the entire 20 days. I still had nine to go. I pleaded with them to hang in.

If I were them, I'm not sure I would have trusted in anything I said, either. I suspected there was going to be some sort of coup soon. I'd be forced to retire in disgrace. Esme would be turned into a boy like Ellie was. It was all too much to bear.

"Fine," Janice said. "We'll do what we can. For the record, I think Edwin is a crap name."

I spent every minute of the next week working on a big script that would wow them at the upfront. I found myself drinking a lot of soda and coffee to keep myself awake.

Jury duty became more interesting because I could look across the aisle at juror number nine. There was no wedding band, but what did that really mean? He could have a girlfriend. He probably had a boyfriend. He might be living with someone.

I tried to make conversation with him during the breaks. I didn't want to stalk him, but I got water at the cooler whenever he was in the bathroom. I was perfectly positioned to share my insights on the various cases with him if he was interested. The whole thing seemed like more work than I had time for. Although, it did help to pass the time in jury duty.

As much as it sucked to have to go down there every day for three hours, I got used to it. The woman who sat next to me, juror number four, was a Southern woman in her forties who was full of funny expressions. She was single and said she didn't have high expectations. She said she was "looking for a penis and a pulse." I said that didn't sound too bad to me, either.

"Now, if my tits were as perky as yours, honey, I wouldn't have any trouble." I laughed and looked over to juror number nine. He was smirking and looked away.

He had been listening to our conversation. Now, he knew I was single. The ball was in his court. I had too much going on to try to pursue him. If it were meant to be, it would happen. In the meantime I had a show to produce and that meant giving one of my characters a sex change.

Little things excited the members of the grand jury. We had so many continuous cases that we chose a few that were our favorites. For each case that was continued, we had to choose a code word. That was pretty fun. I had a sense of pride when my code word suggestions were selected. Although, I got tough competition from a copywriter that sat in the back of the room.

What the grand jury liked was pictures. We could have heard a ton of evidence about different people, but seeing a picture of the defendant was ideal. We passed around these pictures, staring at the people, trying to gauge their guilt from their expressions in pictures taken at weddings.

On the way back to the office, I fished a picture out of my wallet. It was a picture of Tommy and me with Jordan and Lauryn at their wedding. All of us looked so happy and drunk. From our expressions you couldn't gauge any guilt or innocence. There was no way to tell what any of us were going to do in our relationships.

I shook my head. Why even bother having a relationship with someone?

It all made my head hurt.

By Thursday we had a rough, very rough first segment of the pilot to show Hackett, with crude drawings of Eric (my concession to Janice) where Ellie had once been. I hoped that Hackett wasn't overly attached to the name Edwin.

I brought all the guys to the meeting. I needed the support and I wanted them all to feel involved. Also, I think that if they saw Hackett kind of beating up on me, they would understand that I wasn't the one creating all of these changes that kept everyone chained to their desks until past midnight.

I held my breath when I mentioned Eric, but Hackett didn't seem to notice. He seemed to like the new script for the second segment. He watched the segment we had and didn't say much of anything. A lot of times, the brass felt like they had to input continuously throughout a show and that made getting through it take forever.

When the segment was over, he requested we see it again. Jen, who was driving the VCR nervously, rewound the tape. Hackett's giant office was full of tension.

After watching it the second time, he gave us his verdict. If only we could do approvals by voting. Hackett had too much power. The jury vote was the only fair process as far as I was concerned.

"I like the new script for the second segment. I still feel like the connections between the original four minutes are weak. The one with the stolen panda works. I'd leave that one in, but the other three minutes need to come out. If the show gets picked up, we can work them in later in the season. If not, we'll leave them as 60s. Otherwise, keep up the good work."

That was our cue to leave. We filed out of the office. It wasn't so bad — he could have scrapped the whole thing. We had to fill three 60-second holes. Problem was, our schedule was so tight that it didn't seem possible. We needed to be animating the second segment by now to be on schedule.

"Look, guys," I said before anyone could quit. "Just work on the schedule as we planned. I'll figure out the three minutes."

I went into my office to contemplate suicide. I knew I had to do this to keep the team going, but how was I going to do it? There was a knock at my door and Jen came in.

"Paychecks are in." She handed me mine and left. We had no time for small talk and we all knew it.

I opened up the check. My jaw dropped when I looked at it.

It was the first check that reflected my promotion and it was huge. I couldn't believe it. Yes, I had an inhuman amount of work to do, but I was rich. In over my head, but I could pay off a chunk of my credit card bill. Suddenly, I knew how to begin tackling the problems of the pilot.

They say if you can't change your life, change your hair. As Maholly, the stylist, razor-cut the sides of my hair, I suspected this could be the start of something big. I smiled when she spun me around in the chair so I could see the back. I nodded when she told me I would have no trouble taking care of it at home. I knew it would never look this good again.

After my haircut, I headed over to Henri Bendel. I had never gone to this department store before, but now I had a big fat paycheck to get me out of debt, which was foreign territory for me. I wanted to hop right back in.

I agreed to get a makeover from a woman with a strong accent. She worked for some company whose name I couldn't pronounce. I was swept up in it and before I knew it, she was doing undereye masks, testing face creams, and applying moisturizer. There were boxes and bottles everywhere. My face felt heavy. It was all very strange for me. I barely wore any makeup; for special occasions I wore lip gloss. I washed my face with stuff that came from the drugstore.

"Your skin is the most important thing, you know. You must take care of it. It's the first thing people see. It's like your hair," my skincare professional said. I had the feeling she was insulting both my hair and my skin.

It was at that moment I realized how bad her breath was. Breath may not be the first thing people see, but it certainly was important. I flinched backward.

"So what's in this stuff?"

"You have not been paying attention. I told you." I felt like she was reprimanding me. "I tell you again. East."

"East?"

"East. In yogurt. East."

"Oh, yeast," I said finally understanding, kind of wanting to correct her. She nodded and began applying makeup to my face. She put a lot on, even though she promised it would all look very natural. When it was all done, she held the mirror up to me. I looked like a clown.

"Very nice," I said. She asked me what I wanted to buy. I chose a lip gloss and the undereye masks. These late nights were doing me wrong.

"No face mask?" She asked.

"No."

"No toner?"

"No."

"No eye shadow? Eye shadow very pretty."

"No."

"No moisturizer from whale sperm."

"No, just this."

She seemed really disappointed and her attitude didn't improve. I found this surprising because the two items came out to 85 dollars. I thought I heard her sigh when she gave me back my card.

If this was being upwardly mobile, I wasn't sure I was prepared.

It was already too late to make jury duty. Tomorrow, I would tell the bailiff I got held up at work and hope he didn't notice my new haircut and my clear skin.

I didn't want to go home yet though. Lauryn had mentioned something about having some kind of sex party this weekend. She had casually described it as a Tupperware party with dildos. I didn't want to listen to her make plans.

If I went back to work, I'd have to make it to the bathroom before anyone could see the seven layers of foundation on my skin, but I wouldn't be able to explain the hair. I decided to go to the only place where I still thought I could feel comfortable. I couldn't help it.

"You look like the clown in Twisted Metal." Tommy said when he opened the door. Another game reference. He handed me a glass of vinho verde. I kissed him and set the glass down on the first surface I could find. I needed to stay sober.

"Thanks. I got a makeover."

"You're wearing a lot of eye shadow."

"Well, I didn't buy any. She said she was going to do it natural." I saw his expression. "So, apparently she lied. Can I use your bathroom?"

He nodded and I went to wash it all off. I checked the bathroom for signs of feminine invasions. Nothing. In fact, the hair gel I had conveniently left in the cabinet was untouched.

"Much better," he said when I emerged fresh faced. I could swear he winked.

"Are you busy?" I said grabbing some tortilla chips out of the bag he offered.

"No. It all went to press last week. What a pain in the ass. And you, how's Esme?"

"Awful. We are so behind schedule. We've turned Ellie into Eric."

"Cool. I always thought she should be a he. Was that Hackett's doing?"

"Of course," I said. "He also had more comments on the pilot. He wants to lose the stuff I had already done."

"Are you kidding? The panda stuff is awesome." I smiled. He had a good eye.

"He said we could keep that part, but the rest of them have to go. What are you, Hackett's henchman?"

"We've agreed to spy on you at all times. I just need to get someone at jury duty to keep tabs on you." I thought of juror number nine. Then, we didn't say anything for a minute. I ate another chip. Maybe I should have held on to that wine.

"Did you bring over the pilot?" He asked. I always used to show him my stuff. I really trusted his opinion. Sometimes he was a big help.

"Yeah, you want to see it?"

"Sure." We sat on the couch to watch the pilot. "But imagine it without the three minutes you know about."

"Got it," he said. He put his arm around me. I half glared at him. "Sorry. Habit."

When the pilot was over he told me everything he thought was wrong with it. I interrupted him so that I could get a pen and take notes. It was cool to get a fresh perspective from someone who was kind of familiar with Esme. And best of all, he came up with a great way to keep the story connected using the panda that we were so fond of. I couldn't believe how perfect it all was.

"That's a great idea. I can't wait to tell the team."

"I like that you have a team now."

"I guess it's cool." I looked in my lap. He grabbed my hand, then let go, then grabbed it again.

"It's gonna be fine."

"What is?"

"Everything." I wanted to believe him. I really wanted to make things okay.

"We shouldn't do this," I said.

"What?" he asked. I nodded at our intertwined hands. "I'm not doing anything," he protested weakly.

"I know," I said. I leaned over and kissed him. "But I am."

The editor-in-chief of On the Verge magazine called me as I was trying to figure out how to incorporate Hackett's changes into the second segment of the pilot.

"Hi, Rebecca. This is Eve Vitali of On the Verge magazine. We spoke about Esme a few months back. I'm a big fan."

"Oh, hi, thanks. You know, a lot of good things have come from the article."

"I know. I saw the ad in Variety and rumor has it that you're developing the interstitials into a series."

"How do you know that? We haven't even had the upfront yet."

"I know people who know people." Eve was very matter-of-fact. She had a confidence I envied. "The reason I'm calling is because we're doing an article on women who have their dream jobs and we wanted to interview you. Our readers love this stuff, and truth be told, so do I."

"Dream job, huh? "

"Yeah, I'm assuming from our last conversation that this is your dream job, right?"

"I guess so. I honestly haven't had time to think about it. It just sort of happened."

"That's how it goes," said Eve, sounding like an old sage, but a happy one. "So you would like to do the article."

"Absolutely, but I'm going to have to get back to you about when."

"Cool. We were thinking in a couple of weeks."

"Great, that'll be after the upfront. I'll know if I'm really getting my dream job or if it's all just a dream."

"I think it will feel a bit surreal no matter what. Take care and good luck."

"Bye."

* * *

The last week of jury duty we had really hot weather. The room was stifling. It made me sort of glad that, in spite of everything, I got it over with. I couldn't imagine doing it during the long, hot summer.

Jury duty had complicated my life, but in a way I was grateful for it. I think it was good for me to see how people's decisions can affect their entire lives.

On the last day of jury duty, I was in the break room kind of staring at the water cooler, but really scoping juror number nine. He smiled at me when he came out of the bathroom. He had very white teeth and very blue eyes.

"Hey," he said. "Are you happy to be done?"

"Sort of," I said. "Now, I guess I have to work even more."

"I know what you mean." We laughed. "What's your real name?"

"Rebecca."

"Does anyone call you Becky?"

"Yes," I said. "But I don't like it."

"Oh, okay, Rebecca. I'm Seamus." What a great name. "You know, I've noticed a bunch of great restaurants that are pretty close to here. Do you like restaurants?"

"Of course. Doesn't everyone?" Was he about to ask me out? Was I ready to accept? Would this mean I was over Tommy? Was I? This was happening too fast. "You know I've been so busy lately. I mean, I really have no life. My friends actually got me, well never mind. And I just got out of this long relationship, although I'm not sure that I'm really out of it. And I think I want to be, but I'm not exactly sure."

"Whoa, whoa," he said holding up his hand. "It's just dinner."

"I know, I'm just so, I don't know, something, these days."

"Well, look," he took out his wallet and handed me his card. "Why don't you call me when you're not so, I don't know, something." He smiled.

I looked at the card and nodded. "I will call. I promise."

"Okay, good. I've enjoyed listening to you think up names for our continuous cases and I noticed that you always asked the questions I was thinking of."

"Really? That's cool. I really like your teeth." Why had I said that? What the hell was my problem? He laughed, so I got a better look at them. Quite nice.

"Great, Rebecca. Good luck with your work and your life and I hope I hear from you."

And that was it. The ball was in my court. I had to make this decision without the help of a jury or Tommy or Hackett. And I would make it. Just not now.

* * *

Tommy's idea for the panda connection worked out perfectly. I practically stuck a caffeine IV in my arm and worked on it for three days straight. When I was done, all I could see was pandas. I was sick of it, but Janice and John both seemed to be impressed. It was as if they finally believed I could animate.

Hackett liked it, too. Of course he had a ton more changes on the second segment, but we had sort of anticipated that in our schedule so we were only about a week behind. Time was ticking, but I felt like maybe, just maybe, we could get this thing done. If we did, it would mean that I had conceived of and produced a network TV show.

Lauryn had her sex party, which I had to miss because of work. Kathy tells me it was a ton of fun and she's really been enjoying her edible body paint. Beth got handcuffs in case things heat up with her coworker. She didn't mention anything about knowing about my night with Tommy. I think it's better that way.

Lauryn has decided she's going to get some therapy to deal with her issues about the divorce. She asked me if I wanted to do some kind of partner plan, as if we were getting a trainer or something, but I just don't have the time.

The three of my so-called friends bought me a stuffed panda and put a hot-pink dildo in his hand. They left this for me on my bed. It was just what I needed to see after working for three days straight. I'm sure I'll find it funny one of these days.

I still feel like things are spiraling a bit, but it isn't out of control. I just have to go with it. Who knows what kind of things could come from this article? Maybe everything, maybe nothing. And if the Big Guys don't go for Esme at the upfront, well then, I'll just have to deal. It has been a good experience, I think. I wonder if I will ever stop feeling like I'm winging this whole thing.

Okay, I see a hand. I was getting to it. Tommy. We had a very nice evening, but I think it was really the end. Okay, I don't know, but the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth of what I think right now is that it's over.

But there's always a chance he'll appeal. I just know I'm not going over there again. That is a promise I made to myself. We've both got to have some time to think.

So that's it, for now. I have to talk to Janice and John about the final cut of this. We still have to do the audio. I'm never getting to sleep tonight. I also think I'm developing a bit of a caffeine addiction.

I am certainly going to get a lot of use out of those undereye masks.

I should have known that we would wind up sleeping together again when he offered to bring over my mail.

Okay, wait, already I see some questions from the jury and if there's one thing I've learned in these past five weeks it's that details are important. So let me start at the beginning.

I was at my workstation. Work was going well these days. Everyone had been treating me a little bit kinder since the article came out. The one where my animated character, Esme, who is a bespectacled smart-aleck 13-year-old, was called "a feminist icon for the tween generation." This got me praise all the way up the ranks to the head of the adult networks.

Now in meetings, people were likely to say something to the tune of "Let's ask Rebecca if she thinks this accurately represents the audience." I kind of liked it, but it kind of made me feel like I had a lot to live up to.

All my friends were convinced that Esme was based on them. Kathy knew it was her because of the glasses. She never fell for the "men don't make passes" bullshit and more than once convinced me to spend far too much money in Selima. I hadn't even known about the trendy SoHo eyewear store until Kathy opened my eyes to the wonder of its glass cases and funky frames.

Beth thought it was her because she was sure that Esme was Portuguese like she was, and felt like Tommy — her brother, my ex — had a big influence on my creation. And of course, Lauryn, my roommate, was certain that Esme's detective skills were derivative of her discoveries of her now-ex-husband Jordan's money troubles and infidelities.

In reality they were all wrong. Esme, my character, who was dubbed one of the 10 coolest chicks in entertainment, was everything I'd wished I was as a teen or tween or whatever you wanted to call it. Esme was a gamma girl, totally comfortable with her looks and her brains. Totally unlike who I was at 13 or even who I was 13 years later at 26.

It seemed to me like everyone was making a big deal out of nothing. Esme's Enlightenments wasn't even a show. It was just 60-second interstitials that aired during the kids' block on weekend mornings. I doubt anyone noticed them. I think the magazine was trying to be hip by even mentioning Esme. I didn't think everyone was going to make such a big deal about it. I didn't expect there to be photocopies of the article (actually, it was just a page with a picture and a blurb) in everyone's mailbox. I didn't expect the general manager to mention it in his weekly memo. And I definitely didn't expect the ad in Weekly Variety.

I was thinking about all this and how nice it would be if I had someone I could really talk to about it all, someone like Tommy, who I used to be able to talk to about this stuff. Then the phone rang and it was Tommy.

"Hey," he said. "I was certain you'd have someone answering your phone for you. Some little peon."

"C'mon. It was just one little article in a magazine that nobody reads."

"More people read it than my magazine."

"That's comforting." Tommy had started a gaming magazine. He was obsessed with video games. It was part of the reason we broke up. "So what's up? Your thumb got a cramp or something?"

"Very funny. No, I just wanted to see how you were. You know, say hi. See how it was going with the scorned woman." He was talking about Lauryn.

"C'mon, Tommy, Jordan's the dick."

"That's right. Think about how much of a gem I am compared to Jordan. Put that in your pipe and smoke it with those girlfriends of yours."

"It isn't fair. Your sister is a traitor."

"Believe me, Beth's taken your side. My whole family is on your side."

Doesn't it sound like we get along wonderfully? Like we're totally cool with the whole dissolution of our relationship? Well, let me tell you, part of being a grand juror means that you have to hear all the evidence before you decide to indict.

In other words, don't assume.

"So why are you calling me?" See, I can cut right to the chase.

"Honestly, I wanted to congratulate you on the press."

"Well, thank you." I was kind of smiling and twirling in my chair.

"I also got a shitload of mail for you. We got a wedding invitation, from your side. I think your cousin Cheryl. You'll have to get a date. You got your credit card bill and something from New York County. I bet it's jury duty." There it was, my sentence, but I was so innocent then. I was almost flirting. I missed him, if I must tell the whole truth. I missed him a lot. "I could drop it off if you want."

"Actually, I wanted to pick up that lamp. Do you want me to come over? I mean, to pick up my mail."

"Yeah, really. I could make you some dinner."

"That's okay. I'll just grab my mail."

When I called Lauryn to see if she wanted me to bring anything home, I mentioned that I was stopping by Tommy's place. Although I slipped and called it "our place."

"If you don't make the break in your mind, Rebecca, you're never going to make it in your heart."

"Right, Lauryn. I'm just picking up my mail. Don't pull out the Dr. Phil yet."

* * *

I walked up 9^th Avenue from the studio to my old apartment in Hell's Kitchen. I really missed the area. I sighed when I passed Don Giovanni's. It was there that Tommy first proposed that we live together. Now I wonder if that was when our whole relationship started to suffer.
 

What I didn't miss was the walk up five flights after Tommy buzzed me in. He was standing with the door open when I got up the stairs. He held out a glass of white wine, my favorite vinho verde.

"Hi," I said kissing him on the cheek. "Thanks."

"Hey." I was relieved to see he wasn't wearing the usual sweats and a T-shirt. In fact, it seemed that he was intentionally wearing my favorite button-down shirt. I stepped into formerly our, now his, apartment. I smelled sausage.

"Have you been cooking?" I asked.

"Yeah, my mom sent down some chorizo. I'm making some pasta. I hoped you'd stay for dinner."

"Okay," I agreed too quickly. Tommy didn't cook that well except when it came to Portuguese food. His mom had taught him and Beth really well.

I took a quick scan of the living room while Tommy went to put on the pasta. The place seemed amazingly clean. I think he had even put the PlayStation 2 controller away. The table, which was usually covered with game boxes and papers, was set and there were even two pathetic melted-down candles stuck in the center.

"Did you get a cleaning lady?"

"No, just straightened up a bit."

"Well, it looks nice." He brought in some carrots and hummus. I took one and dipped it as he poured me some more wine.

"So what did old Hackett say about the press?" Hackett was the head of programming.

"He covered his ass really well. Caught me in the kitchen and congratulated me as if the whole thing had been his idea."

"That figures, the asshole." I liked that Tommy knew all my stories. It was just easy to feel comfortable around him. He finished up the wine in his glass and poured the last of the bottle into our two glasses.

"Shit, it's done," I said giggling. I guessed I had been sort of gulping it, partly because it went down so smooth and partly because I was nervous to be seeing him.

"That's okay. I got two more bottles. I'll go open one up."

"I knew it. I just knew it," Lauryn said when I answered the phone at work the next day. "That's why you based Esme on me. I could have told you that you were going to fuck him when you went to pick up your mail."

"Look, Lauryn, the last thing I need right now is 'I told you so.'"

"No, you probably need the morning-after pill." She had convinced me to throw away my pills with her in some kind of pagan type ceremony that was supposed to symbolize our freedom from men. It was pretty scary and now I regretted humoring her.

"He had condoms."

"Interesting." I knew it was. We hadn't needed condoms in about two years. After both of us took the necessary tests and decided to be monogamous, I had gotten on the pill. It was very interesting that he happened to have condoms handy. I knew that Lauryn would suspect the worst, but even then I was hesitant to trust circumstantial evidence.

"Well, I'm glad they were there and — Shit!" My other line was beeping. I could see it was Hackett. "Lauryn, it's the head of programming. I'll talk about this with you tonight."

"Try not to make any pit stops on the way home, huh?"

"Thanks." I clicked over to the other line. "Rebecca Cole."

"Hi, Becky." Becky? "It's Matt Hackett. I was wondering if you could have a meeting with me today at 11."

"Sure," I said, a little petrified that his assistant, Meg, wasn't scheduling this. The meeting would be in 20 minutes.

"Great, see you then."

I really can't think of anyone who could find any acceptable reason to refuse meeting with the head of programming. But, it was weird that he called himself.

I came in late today. Now, like most animators, we started at around 10 and it was pretty casual, but lately I'd been coming in around 10:30. I think the article thing had gotten to my head a bit. It was like a get-out-of-jail-free card. I hadn't been the efficient little worker bee I usually was. I was ducking out early, coming in late. I knew I was going to get my wrist slapped eventually, but I hadn't expected Matt Hackett to do it himself.

I had good intentions this morning. I snuck out of my (fuck!) — Tommy's — place and got halfway to work when I realized that I left my mail on the kitchen counter. I had to go back.

And he was up when I got back. He had already taken his position on the couch with controller in hand. I could hear the swell of the Grand Theft Auto 3 soundtrack when I opened the door. I wondered if he had been pretending to be asleep when I left.

"Hey," he said, pausing the game. "I'm glad you had to came back to say goodbye. You made a pretty quick, quiet escape. I was beginning to think you were Lara Croft or something."

All of Tommy's references these days were video game related. And they kind of had to be since he started the gaming magazine with his friend Mike. Still, it bugged me. I was annoyed that he was already in the throes of a game that I knew he wasn't reviewing at 9:30 in the morning. So I owned up to the real reason I came back.

"Forgot the mail."

"Oh," he said, looking sad, "yeah."

He turned the game back on. I wondered which one of us would be the first to bring up last night.

"I'm going to use the bathroom." I splashed some cold water on my face. I wished I had some skin care products here still. My skin felt extremely oily.

When I came out he asked if I wanted a cup of coffee. He had finished his game. I accepted a mug, but then remembered he didn't have any half-and-half. I only liked half-and-half in my coffee. Everything about being here felt familiar, but somehow wrong. I'm sure he felt the same way.

"Look, about yesterday" Good, at least he was bringing it up. It seemed like a small victory. "I didn't really intend for that to happen. It was great and really good to see you, but I won't let it happen again."

I had said pretty much the same thing the last time this happened. I nodded and sipped my bitter black coffee. He looked over toward the Spiderman clock in the kitchen.

"I think you should really make sure your mail goes to Lauryn's. If any more comes here, I'll give it to Beth." Wow! I knew he was right, but as he said that, I realized that would mean I wouldn't be back. I had subconsciously moved out really slowly so I could keep coming back. I loved this place. Maybe I should have fought harder to stay.

"Okay." I said. I was kind of stunned. "I got to get to work."

* * *

I thumbed through the mail while I waited for my sentence with Hackett. My cousin Cheryl was marrying her boyfriend, Dan. Great, I'd have to find another date. Better still, I had to explain to my entire family all the reasons why Tommy and I were no longer together. I'm sure then they would all tell me what they really thought of him without solicitation. I couldn't wait for that.

Next was my credit card bill. I owed about $10,000. Paying for the movers two months ago didn't do much to help that. I scanned the bill to see if there were any charges on there that were Tommy's. Oh, god! I was still looking for excuses to have to call him. This had to stop. I had to just make a clean break. It was what I intended. I just hadn't expected it to be so hard.

There were a couple of catalogs I knew Tommy had already flipped through. He had a strange obsession with catalogs. I had to stop referring everything back to him. I was almost as bad as Lauryn.

The last piece of mail I had was a summons to appear tomorrow and be considered for grand jury qualification. I had gotten one of those notices a couple of months ago. When I went down to the courthouse, I was told that I would be summoned in the next few months. If I was selected as a grand juror, I would have to serve for 20 business days every afternoon or morning. I could only defer for up to six months. Now, they had me and I had to report. Great.

* * *

I knocked on Matt Hackett's door at one minute to 11. He motioned for me to come in. He was finishing up a call.

"I know, we're so pleased. I'm certain it's going to be big. Sponge Bob who? They'll say... I know I know, look at Britney.... This demo is more Julia Stiles...absolute licensing tie-ins. Uh-huh...yeah. Well, she's here now. I'll give you a call."

I couldn't fathom that anything he was talking about could have to do with me, but I sat up straighter when he looked up at me. I was ready with an excuse about a sick cat if the lateness came up.

"How are you, Becky?" No one calls me Becky.

"Great, Matt, how are you?" Hackett had been in the business forever. It was weird to call him Matt, but that was one of the weird rules of the network. Everyone must call everyone by his or her first name. The idea being that we were all equals. I looked around at the size of Matt's office. We were so not equal.

"Terrific," he said. I almost expected him to have a cigar, but that would be a real infraction of company rules. "Much better since Esme's been getting such great publicity. Did you hear the Times is going to do something in Arts & Leisure this weekend?" I hadn't. I wish I read more.

"I thought tweens was old news."

"Absolutely not. Have you seen the research findings? This stuff is testing off the charts. Even with boys. They think of Esme as a tech head. They like her. She's got all-around appeal." I didn't know if I should thank him or if I could interrupt the flow. "So the big guys upstairs said to me, why is it just an interstitial. Why not a show? I said, great idea. We'll have a pilot by the upfront."

"The upfront?" I had to interrupt him. "That's, like, six weeks away." The upfront was the yearly conference where advertisers got together to decide how much money they would spend on a channel based on its programming. They needed to see polished samples. This was big time.

"Well, I spoke with Kim and she told me you had about four 60s ready to go."

"Yeah, I'm working on them, but that's only four minutes of non-narrative story. There's no way we can get a pilot." Hackett looked at me and I knew that no one contradicted him.

"Of course, we'll get you some help. We're taking two animators off Diamond Clubhouse and hiring you an assistant. Congratulations, you're now the executive producer of Esme. Just keep doing what you're doing and keep curriculum in mind. After the upfront, we'll go into full-blown production to have 13 eps by fall. Now, go get started. Make us proud. I got Meg working on your staffing."

"Oh, okay." I felt as though a bus had hit me. "Thanks."

I left his office and went to sit in one of the bathroom stalls. I should have been happy to be promoted, but instead I felt sick. I had six weeks to come up with a 22-minute pilot. Brand-new stories and brand-new animation. When I was done with that, I'd have five months to get 13 episodes ready. It didn't seem possible.

Everyone's got a way to get out of jury duty:

"Tell them your sister's a lawyer," Kathy said.

"Don't show," Beth said.

"Say you were a victim of a violent crime," said Jen, my new assistant, who also happened to be Matt Hackett's niece.

"Tell them you hate men," Lauryn said. She was quite serious. We were in line at Whole Foods. Neither of us felt like cooking so we just sampled a bunch of the prepared foods and then hit the salad bar. "Or has that changed since you had your orgasm?"

"Two," I said, honestly, but wanting to get her goat all the same. I hoped the line guy hadn't heard me.

"Number nine is yours," he said pointing to us. We walked up to cash register nine.

"I can't believe you," she said, putting some organic tampons on the counter. "You'd think you could restrain yourself after everything he's done."

"Lauryn, he didn't do anything. That's part of the problem. I lost him to his GTA 3 inertia. In case you forgot, I was the one who moved out."

"I think you're in denial," she said once we were outside and walking to her, fuck, our apartment. "Really, I think you're making excuses for the fact that you're not over him."

"I never said I was over him. I just needed to get away from the incessant sounds of explosions and gunfire."

"Don't forget the toys," she said. I knew she was right, but I didn't say anything until we got home and started eating.

Tommy had always been into collecting things: comic books; figurines; movie posters; and old school arcade games. There was barely enough room in our apartment for all of that junk. I was blind to it at first, thought it was a cute little quirk that Tommy had. Then he started his magazine, Toys and Games. And then things got worse. I realized I was dating a child.

Our relationship ratings went down. I needed a big stunt. My jump-the-shark move was requesting a dog. I thought it would be the first step toward responsibility. It would be great, since he worked from home on the magazine. I figured he'd have some time between games and writing to take the dog for a walk.

"I'm just too busy for that, Rebecca," he said, not even bothering to pause Tony Hawk. When we stopped having sex soon after that, I pretty much decided it was over.

I spent the better part of the day after Hackett gave me what should have been my dream job moving my stuff from my workstation to my office. I also had to meet my new animators, John and Janice, and set up some schedules with Jen.

Jen was very eager to help me. I expected her to be kind of spoiled because she had gotten this job through her uncle, but she seemed too enthusiastic. She insisted on calling me Becky, and that meant that John and Janice also called me Becky. I was beyond correcting them.

I suspected there was something going on between John and Janice, but as soon as I saw the number of empty soda cans in their trash, I realized these guys may have been doing it, but they were hopped up on caffeine and hardworking. That was what it was going to take to get this pilot off the ground in six weeks. It gave me a glimmer of confidence.

That confidence was quickly shattered when I realized that everyone expected me to make this show happen. Being the executive producer meant I kind of had to tell them what to do. Animating and maybe writing some dialogue were things I could do, but managing other people was not. Plus, if this whole thing failed, it meant I would fail. It meant that, god, who even knew what they would do to me.

I never wanted to have this kind of responsibility.

And now, I had to head down to 100 Centre St. to find out if I would also be serving New York County for the next 20 days, as if my life wasn't busy enough.

I was running late, of course, but the place was packed. It seemed like everyone was scheduled to show up for jury duty at the same time. The courtroom was standing room only. A man with a heavy Bronx accent told us that when we heard our name we had to say morning, afternoon, or excused.

"But if you excuse yourself this time, folks, your name just goes back into the computer and we call next month and every month for six months. Eventually, we're gonna get you, so it's best to volunteer now."

He said "volunteer" as if we weren't compelled to be here. It seemed that there was no way for me to even try out any of the excuses my friends and coworkers had supplied. The only way to excuse myself was to live in a different county.

I'm a firm believer in getting things over with. I couldn't imagine how I was even going to be able to spare three hours a day for the next four weeks. At the same time, it seemed like the next six months were going to be even harder. If the pilot did well, I'd still have an actual show to produce.

There was still a chance that if I "volunteered" I wouldn't get called. I had always been lucky. I might as well chance it. The civil servant began calling out people's names.

"Cole, Rebecca," he said.

"Afternoon," I yelled. It would probably have been more time-efficient for me to go in the mornings since the session started at nine, but I was not a morning person and I couldn't imagine starting the day in a courtroom. Besides, I knew I wasn't getting picked. I had to have faith.

When all the hundreds of names had been called, the people who asked to be excused were released. This opened up some seats. I needed one after standing for so long.

The names of "volunteers" were put into a kind of wheel. They picked four morning juries and then they had to pick four afternoon juries. Each jury consisted of 23 people.

After three juries were picked, I was feeling pretty confident. If I got out of this "volunteering" thing without being picked, I would be excused for four years.

There were only five more jurors to be picked for the fourth and last jury. This was a testament to how easily the whole production was going to go. I was lucky, there was no denying it. Maybe not lucky in love, but lucky.

Three more and still not called. I should go to Vegas. I was certain to have more disposable cash with my promotion. Maybe I could make enough at blackjack to pay off all my awful debt.

"Cole, Rebecca."

"What?" I looked up. There were only two more to go and I was — shit! I was one of them. I was a grand juror for the next 20 days.

There is nothing like sitting in the hot courtrooms on the ninth floor of 60 Centre Street to put things in perspective.

Every day around 1:45 I dashed out of the office, entrusting Janice and John to keep on working and not wander into my new office for some recreational sex. I stopped to get an iced coffee at the little cart by the subway stop and waited on the long security line to get let into the building.

I was juror number three. So named because I sat front row. The whole thing was meant to be completely anonymous. At times, I regretted sitting in the first row, because that meant a lot of the witnesses looked at me as they testified. More often than not, what they saw was a giant yawn.

It wasn't awful, the actual experience. I mean, I could eat my lunch. There were lots of slow times when we were waiting to hear cases and I got a lot of work done. We got a 15-minute break every day and sometimes we even got released at 4:30. That's good, right?

I did luck out by not getting picked as the secretary or one of the forepeople. That would have sucked. I could have had to write stuff down or swear people in. Just being a grand juror meant all I had to do was listen and vote.

Some of the jurors liked to ask a lot of annoying questions of the witnesses, but most people just wanted to get the votes done, assuming that the quicker we voted, the quicker we'd get released. Don't get me wrong though, most people would only vote to indict when the evidence was presented. But the D.A.s did a good job and we usually indicted.

I had a lot of time to think about Tommy. I thought a lot, but didn't really reach any epiphanies. Esme was much better at coming to conclusions than her creator.

After the first week, I was exhausted. I was staying at work until 10 or 11 at night. I had to stay after Janice and John left. I was jealous that they each got to go home with each other, while I was working just as hard and went home to an empty bed.

They were both really talented, definitely better animators than I was, but they seemed to respect what I said about Esme. I noticed the character was starting to look different from the one I originally created.

If you ever watch early episodes of The Simpsons, you'll notice a difference between then and now. Esme was evolving in another animator's hand. She was looking a lot better than she looked when I drew her. The differences were subtle; I doubted the audience would notice, but I did. My baby was growing up.

Hackett insisted we have a status meeting on Monday so I could update him on progress. That meant I had to go in on Saturday. I slept until a decadent 11 and then went to work, promising Lauryn I would be home to go out for drinks with the girls tonight.

I found Jen typing away in her cube when I got in. Janice and John were also at their workstations. I hadn't asked for or expected anyone to be in on Saturday. I was impressed with their dedication. At the same time, I felt guilty for being the last one to get there. It was beginning to look as if we were a team.

"Hey," I said, smiling. "Doesn't anyone have a life anymore?"

"Not 'til after the upfront," said Janice, downing the last of a can of soda and throwing it into the trash. "Three points. John, can you toss me another one."

I sat in my office for a while, trying to iron out the second segment of the pilot. Animated shows were sometimes broken down into two 11-minute segments. Janice and John were working on a device to link the four minutes I had already almost completed. It was a stretch, but I think we'd found something that worked. I had to find another adventure for Esme to go on.

Around two I hit a block. I felt as though I'd blown my Esme load on all the other interstitials. What was I going to do if the show got picked up? I poked my head out of my office.

"Hey guys," I said. "If I buy pizza for lunch, can we have a quick brainstorm?"

John, who hardly said much, swiveled toward me in his chair. He nodded and said, "Need more caffeine."

The brainstorm went really well. It was the first time I got a sense of where everyone was coming from. John had some totally wacky ideas for adventures for Esme. Janice, like me, was into developing her character, making her a real grrrl. And Jen was remarkably attuned to curriculum, in other words, making sure the kids who watched the show actually learned something from it without knowing they were learning.

We all heightened each other's ideas. With a belly full of soda and pizza, I went back to my office and jammed out two possible scripts. I was feeling good. It may have been all the caffeine, but I was literally buzzing. The scripts were solid and Hackett would love having a choice.

Lauryn called at eight to make sure we were still meeting up at the place. At 9:30, I decided to leave and demanded that everyone go, too. I made them swear to the gods of caffeine and industry that they would not show their faces around here on Sunday.

In the cab to the bar I pulled my hair out of its ponytail and applied my favorite gloss. We were meeting up at a place that Zagat's said was "Vietnamese, Senegalese wheat-free fusion with a South American accent." Beth had picked it. I had no idea what to expect.

The place was packed and rocking with Cuban music when I arrived. I made my way through the crowd to the tiny table for two where my three best friends were sitting.

"Finally, you're here," Lauryn said, exhaling smoke as she kissed me.

"We're already one in," said Kathy, winking before she kissed me.

"Honey, you look tired," Beth said, looking into my face after she kissed me. I was, but I didn't want to admit it. I had my game face on.

"My contacts are bothering me from staring at the computer all day."

"You should be wearing your glasses," Kathy said, tapping the side of her hot-pink cat-eyed specs.

I have no idea what I ate. As usual, we let Beth do the ordering, since she had done the research. She was usually pretty good about picking restaurants, but something about all these tastes didn't really mesh. No one wanted to admit it to her. We just kept drinking the Latin drinks.

Kathy was engaged and living in Jersey City with her fiancй. We got the latest updates on the wedding, which all of us were in.

Beth was dating some guy from work. It seemed to be going really well, except that he had invited her to go to The Dungeon with him and she wasn't sure if it was a hot new bar or a bondage club.

Lauryn was Lauryn, or at least the alien that seemed to have inhabited my friend's body since the unwelcome discovery that her young marriage was actually a "starter marriage" and Jordan, her ex, was interested in trading up. Lauryn liked to pretend she had "washed that dickwad right out of my hair," but in reality all roads led to Jordan. In my exhausted state the conversations were very confusing.

"So, we should have a dress-fitting in about two months," Kathy said.

"I'm thinking of making drapes out of my wedding dress and sending them to Jordan to hang in our old place."

"He absolutely loves going to foreign films with me," Beth said.

"I told you guys that Jordan fucked at least three people when he went to that conference in Cancun, right?" Lauryn said as we nodded.

"No, it's not really one case. It's many cases that we hear over four weeks. Some are continuous." I said.

"If I hadn't had to move out, I'd still be living in Westchester and Rebecca could have gotten out of this whole thing by not living in Manhattan County," Lauryn said. I was amazed at the conclusions she jumped to. In her mind, Jordan was responsible for everything.

"There is no way I would have moved out of the city," I said.

"Let's go to Barraza," Kathy said. It was the perfect thing to do. We needed more Latin drinks and dance partners who could take the lead.

I only managed two mojitos before exhaustion set in and I had to go. Beth decided to share a cab with me, while the other two, recently divorced and soon-to-be-married, didn't want the night to end.

In the cab, I closed my eyes and leaned back against the seat.

"Are you doing okay with everything?" Beth asked. It's not easy to have one of your best friends be the sister of your ex-boyfriend.

"Yeah," I said not wanting to have to talk about it. We arrived at my place and I leaned over to kiss Beth goodbye.

"Actually," Beth said, handing the cabbie some money. "I'll get out here with you."

"Look, Beth," I said as I let her into the apartment. "I was hoping I could just, you know, get some sleep."

"Well, I wanted to talk to you about what's going on with you and Tommy."

"Fine, I'll make some tea," I said. I was hoping to buy myself some time in the kitchen.

Lauryn, Beth, Kathy, and I lived together in college. The summer after we graduated, Jordan and Lauryn got married and I started dating Tommy. Beth hadn't been thrilled with the idea, but she opted to never really get involved. I tried to keep my friendship with her and my relationship with Tommy completely separate.

Of course, once I started spending holidays with Tommy's family, it became more difficult for the two relationships not to become intertwined. The most Beth and I ever talked about it was when Beth said that of all the girls Tommy ever dated, I was her favorite.

I had chickened out of telling her when I moved out by calling Kathy at work and asking her to relay the news. Now as I poured two cups of tea, I wondered what Beth could possibly have to say about the whole thing.

She was sitting on the couch, leafing through the copy of the On the Verge magazine that featured the thing on Esme. I handed her the cup and she smiled. "This is great exposure for you."

"I know, it's pretty cool." I could feel her looking at me, so I concentrated on blowing on my tea.

"Tommy told me about what happened the other night."

"Right," I said. I had seen witnesses evade revealing things about themselves when they testified. I wasn't going to volunteer anything unless I was asked outright.

"Do you think that was a good idea?"

"Um." I took a sip. It burned my tongue. "Probably not."

"Do you want to get back together with him?"

"Does he want to get back together with me?"

"That's not the way to answer." Neither one of us said anything for a minute. Then she said, "No."

"No?" I said. I was surprised. I was the one who moved out. When I lived there, I made things so easy for him. I put up with all his shit. I made sure he was fed and cleaned. So we hadn't really been sleeping together toward the end, but it was always good whenever we did. I couldn't believe he would have chosen this breakup. It was me who had been making a point. "Shit!"

"What?" I couldn't tell her that I was finally realizing that I had done all this to get some attention in the relationship. I could barely admit that to myself.

"What do you mean no?"

"I mean, I think he realizes that your relationship is kind of dead-end and he knows you're better off without him, but when you go over there and sleep with him, it confuses things."

"Look, it's not like I intended to sleep with him." That much is true. Of course, it didn't take much to convince me. "And since when do you even want to talk about me and your brother?"

"Rebecca, I love the both of you. You don't seem too happy with the way things are and he called me hysterically crying the day you moved out."

"He did?" I asked. He had just seemed angry when I got my stuff. "I can't belief he pulled himself away from HotShots Golf 3 long enough to notice."

"Rebecca!"

"It's true, Beth." Suddenly, I was losing my composure. The professional witnesses were much better than me. "I love your brother, but I was miserable for months. It's not much better now, but I think it's for the best. Damn!"

"Rebecca, don't cry." And of course it was too late.

I cried for a while. Beth was pretty good about staying with me and trying to cheer me up. "Hey, at least you're not as bad as Lauryn. You don't seem too bitter."

"I'm not, but I do really miss him. There were lots of good things about him, you know."

"Yeah, I do,"she said.

"You know, I just don't want to do this all again. I put time into your brother. It was comfortable. We had like, you know, shorthand. Remember when I broke my ankle playing tennis and he took me to the emergency room and stayed with me all night? Who's going to take me to the emergency room now?" I continued to cry.

"Well," Beth said, patting my head. "That was the first and last time I ever heard about you playing tennis."

I wiped my eyes and smiled at her. "I know this all sounds awful. I just got used to him."

"I know," Beth said, being much kinder than any of the D.A.s ever were. "I know."

* * *

The meeting with Hackett on Monday did not go as well as I thought it would. It was supposed to be an hour meeting and it lasted from 10 until I had to leave for jury duty. Of course, he gave me some attitude about leaving the meeting, but what could I do? It was my civic duty.

He liked the two new plots I had come up, but he wanted something more "dynamic" for the pilot.

"We need to get them hooked and keep them hooked. The ratings have to be big on this one. Big. It's got to sell the ad execs who are going to buy time on it. Give it a different approach, Becky. Try again."

Also, he had an issue with Esme's sister, Ellie, being such a big role. "I think we should give Esme a brother. How about Edwin? Let's create an Edwin. What do you say?"

What did I say? What did I say? What I should have said was that it was far too late in the game for him to be throwing this curveball. I should have reminded him that Ellie had been pivotal in the shorts that tested so well. I should have mentioned that the deadline was now four weeks away and that gave us no time to work in a new character and that we would virtually have to scrap what had already been done. I should have told him that just because he was the boss did not mean that he shouldn't make decisions in a timely fashion. And by the way, I should have said, Edwin is a shitty name.

What I said: "Um, well, I think those are great ideas. I'll talk it over with my team."

And then it was 1:30 and I had to run downtown. I couldn't find any of my team, who were certain to have a mutiny when they heard this development.

To add to the downward spiral of my day, the 4 and 5 train weren't running, so I had to take the local 6 to City Hall. It took forever. I was late getting to jury duty and caught attitude from the bailiff. The D.A. who was presenting a case made a point to inform me that I couldn't vote on one of the counts because I had missed important testimony from two witnesses. We never started on time except today of all days. Since I couldn't vote, it made my presence seem entirely futile.

During the break, I tried to call in to work to see if Jen could get everybody together to talk about what Hackett had said, but my phone was dead. I forgot to charge the battery last night.

"Fuck," I said. I banged my phone against the table in the break room.

"Um, there's a pay phone down the hall," I heard a voice say. Of course, I knew I was overreacting. I was growing dependent on my cell phone. It was silly.

"Thanks," I said. I looked up at the blue eyes behind the voice.

"It's impossible," Janice said. "There's no way."

We were having a meeting about what Hackett said. It wasn't going well at all. I knew I was asking for the impossible from my team, but it wasn't me asking, it was the big boss. It was my responsibility to make sure they produced and to buffer their complaints. It was a shitty position to be in, but it's what I signed on for when I got promoted. Although it didn't seem as though I ever had much of a choice.

"Look, I didn't use Ellie that much in the shorts," I said. "And she's young enough, so that we can doctor her up a bit to look like a boy, Edwin."

"We don't like to doctor up our work," John said, getting all self-righteous about his art. I thought about saying what I usually heard people say in these situations, which was, "It's just TV, it's not brain surgery." I didn't.

"Okay, everyone, listen." Fuck! Was I in any position to be the leader? Things had been so much simpler when Esme was just a creative side project I had done when I wasn't working on titles for the real shows. All the same, this was my moment to rally the troops. I had to do it.

"This isn't my choice. Sometimes, we all have to do things we don't want to do. We have to corrupt our creativity for the corporate agenda." I looked over at John, who was caressing his goatee. "Esme is like, my baby. Honestly, she's all I have right now." I directed this to Janice. She had a boyfriend. Maybe she could find a little pity for me.

"I know we're all working real hard on this. It's the worst time for me to have jury duty, but it's two more weeks. This is a great opportunity for all of us." This was to Jen. I knew she had ambition. "If this show gets picked up, if it's a success at the upfront, we're sitting pretty. That means more staff, more say, and maybe, hopefully..."

"More money," John said.

"Well," I wasn't going to say that. "Yeah, and more respect."

"When is your case over?" Jen asked. I explained to them, once again, that it wasn't one case. I was required to serve the entire 20 days. I still had nine to go. I pleaded with them to hang in.

If I were them, I'm not sure I would have trusted in anything I said, either. I suspected there was going to be some sort of coup soon. I'd be forced to retire in disgrace. Esme would be turned into a boy like Ellie was. It was all too much to bear.

"Fine," Janice said. "We'll do what we can. For the record, I think Edwin is a crap name."

I spent every minute of the next week working on a big script that would wow them at the upfront. I found myself drinking a lot of soda and coffee to keep myself awake.

Jury duty became more interesting because I could look across the aisle at juror number nine. There was no wedding band, but what did that really mean? He could have a girlfriend. He probably had a boyfriend. He might be living with someone.

I tried to make conversation with him during the breaks. I didn't want to stalk him, but I got water at the cooler whenever he was in the bathroom. I was perfectly positioned to share my insights on the various cases with him if he was interested. The whole thing seemed like more work than I had time for. Although, it did help to pass the time in jury duty.

As much as it sucked to have to go down there every day for three hours, I got used to it. The woman who sat next to me, juror number four, was a Southern woman in her forties who was full of funny expressions. She was single and said she didn't have high expectations. She said she was "looking for a penis and a pulse." I said that didn't sound too bad to me, either.

"Now, if my tits were as perky as yours, honey, I wouldn't have any trouble." I laughed and looked over to juror number nine. He was smirking and looked away.

He had been listening to our conversation. Now, he knew I was single. The ball was in his court. I had too much going on to try to pursue him. If it were meant to be, it would happen. In the meantime I had a show to produce and that meant giving one of my characters a sex change.

Little things excited the members of the grand jury. We had so many continuous cases that we chose a few that were our favorites. For each case that was continued, we had to choose a code word. That was pretty fun. I had a sense of pride when my code word suggestions were selected. Although, I got tough competition from a copywriter that sat in the back of the room.

What the grand jury liked was pictures. We could have heard a ton of evidence about different people, but seeing a picture of the defendant was ideal. We passed around these pictures, staring at the people, trying to gauge their guilt from their expressions in pictures taken at weddings.

On the way back to the office, I fished a picture out of my wallet. It was a picture of Tommy and me with Jordan and Lauryn at their wedding. All of us looked so happy and drunk. From our expressions you couldn't gauge any guilt or innocence. There was no way to tell what any of us were going to do in our relationships.

I shook my head. Why even bother having a relationship with someone?

It all made my head hurt.

By Thursday we had a rough, very rough first segment of the pilot to show Hackett, with crude drawings of Eric (my concession to Janice) where Ellie had once been. I hoped that Hackett wasn't overly attached to the name Edwin.

I brought all the guys to the meeting. I needed the support and I wanted them all to feel involved. Also, I think that if they saw Hackett kind of beating up on me, they would understand that I wasn't the one creating all of these changes that kept everyone chained to their desks until past midnight.

I held my breath when I mentioned Eric, but Hackett didn't seem to notice. He seemed to like the new script for the second segment. He watched the segment we had and didn't say much of anything. A lot of times, the brass felt like they had to input continuously throughout a show and that made getting through it take forever.

When the segment was over, he requested we see it again. Jen, who was driving the VCR nervously, rewound the tape. Hackett's giant office was full of tension.

After watching it the second time, he gave us his verdict. If only we could do approvals by voting. Hackett had too much power. The jury vote was the only fair process as far as I was concerned.

"I like the new script for the second segment. I still feel like the connections between the original four minutes are weak. The one with the stolen panda works. I'd leave that one in, but the other three minutes need to come out. If the show gets picked up, we can work them in later in the season. If not, we'll leave them as 60s. Otherwise, keep up the good work."

That was our cue to leave. We filed out of the office. It wasn't so bad — he could have scrapped the whole thing. We had to fill three 60-second holes. Problem was, our schedule was so tight that it didn't seem possible. We needed to be animating the second segment by now to be on schedule.

"Look, guys," I said before anyone could quit. "Just work on the schedule as we planned. I'll figure out the three minutes."

I went into my office to contemplate suicide. I knew I had to do this to keep the team going, but how was I going to do it? There was a knock at my door and Jen came in.

"Paychecks are in." She handed me mine and left. We had no time for small talk and we all knew it.

I opened up the check. My jaw dropped when I looked at it.

It was the first check that reflected my promotion and it was huge. I couldn't believe it. Yes, I had an inhuman amount of work to do, but I was rich. In over my head, but I could pay off a chunk of my credit card bill. Suddenly, I knew how to begin tackling the problems of the pilot.

They say if you can't change your life, change your hair. As Maholly, the stylist, razor-cut the sides of my hair, I suspected this could be the start of something big. I smiled when she spun me around in the chair so I could see the back. I nodded when she told me I would have no trouble taking care of it at home. I knew it would never look this good again.

After my haircut, I headed over to Henri Bendel. I had never gone to this department store before, but now I had a big fat paycheck to get me out of debt, which was foreign territory for me. I wanted to hop right back in.

I agreed to get a makeover from a woman with a strong accent. She worked for some company whose name I couldn't pronounce. I was swept up in it and before I knew it, she was doing undereye masks, testing face creams, and applying moisturizer. There were boxes and bottles everywhere. My face felt heavy. It was all very strange for me. I barely wore any makeup; for special occasions I wore lip gloss. I washed my face with stuff that came from the drugstore.

"Your skin is the most important thing, you know. You must take care of it. It's the first thing people see. It's like your hair," my skincare professional said. I had the feeling she was insulting both my hair and my skin.

It was at that moment I realized how bad her breath was. Breath may not be the first thing people see, but it certainly was important. I flinched backward.

"So what's in this stuff?"

"You have not been paying attention. I told you." I felt like she was reprimanding me. "I tell you again. East."

"East?"

"East. In yogurt. East."

"Oh, yeast," I said finally understanding, kind of wanting to correct her. She nodded and began applying makeup to my face. She put a lot on, even though she promised it would all look very natural. When it was all done, she held the mirror up to me. I looked like a clown.

"Very nice," I said. She asked me what I wanted to buy. I chose a lip gloss and the undereye masks. These late nights were doing me wrong.

"No face mask?" She asked.

"No."

"No toner?"

"No."

"No eye shadow? Eye shadow very pretty."

"No."

"No moisturizer from whale sperm."

"No, just this."

She seemed really disappointed and her attitude didn't improve. I found this surprising because the two items came out to 85 dollars. I thought I heard her sigh when she gave me back my card.

If this was being upwardly mobile, I wasn't sure I was prepared.

It was already too late to make jury duty. Tomorrow, I would tell the bailiff I got held up at work and hope he didn't notice my new haircut and my clear skin.

I didn't want to go home yet though. Lauryn had mentioned something about having some kind of sex party this weekend. She had casually described it as a Tupperware party with dildos. I didn't want to listen to her make plans.

If I went back to work, I'd have to make it to the bathroom before anyone could see the seven layers of foundation on my skin, but I wouldn't be able to explain the hair. I decided to go to the only place where I still thought I could feel comfortable. I couldn't help it.

"You look like the clown in Twisted Metal." Tommy said when he opened the door. Another game reference. He handed me a glass of vinho verde. I kissed him and set the glass down on the first surface I could find. I needed to stay sober.

"Thanks. I got a makeover."

"You're wearing a lot of eye shadow."

"Well, I didn't buy any. She said she was going to do it natural." I saw his expression. "So, apparently she lied. Can I use your bathroom?"

He nodded and I went to wash it all off. I checked the bathroom for signs of feminine invasions. Nothing. In fact, the hair gel I had conveniently left in the cabinet was untouched.

"Much better," he said when I emerged fresh faced. I could swear he winked.

"Are you busy?" I said grabbing some tortilla chips out of the bag he offered.

"No. It all went to press last week. What a pain in the ass. And you, how's Esme?"

"Awful. We are so behind schedule. We've turned Ellie into Eric."

"Cool. I always thought she should be a he. Was that Hackett's doing?"

"Of course," I said. "He also had more comments on the pilot. He wants to lose the stuff I had already done."

"Are you kidding? The panda stuff is awesome." I smiled. He had a good eye.

"He said we could keep that part, but the rest of them have to go. What are you, Hackett's henchman?"

"We've agreed to spy on you at all times. I just need to get someone at jury duty to keep tabs on you." I thought of juror number nine. Then, we didn't say anything for a minute. I ate another chip. Maybe I should have held on to that wine.

"Did you bring over the pilot?" He asked. I always used to show him my stuff. I really trusted his opinion. Sometimes he was a big help.

"Yeah, you want to see it?"

"Sure." We sat on the couch to watch the pilot. "But imagine it without the three minutes you know about."

"Got it," he said. He put his arm around me. I half glared at him. "Sorry. Habit."

When the pilot was over he told me everything he thought was wrong with it. I interrupted him so that I could get a pen and take notes. It was cool to get a fresh perspective from someone who was kind of familiar with Esme. And best of all, he came up with a great way to keep the story connected using the panda that we were so fond of. I couldn't believe how perfect it all was.

"That's a great idea. I can't wait to tell the team."

"I like that you have a team now."

"I guess it's cool." I looked in my lap. He grabbed my hand, then let go, then grabbed it again.

"It's gonna be fine."

"What is?"

"Everything." I wanted to believe him. I really wanted to make things okay.

"We shouldn't do this," I said.

"What?" he asked. I nodded at our intertwined hands. "I'm not doing anything," he protested weakly.

"I know," I said. I leaned over and kissed him. "But I am."

The editor-in-chief of On the Verge magazine called me as I was trying to figure out how to incorporate Hackett's changes into the second segment of the pilot.

"Hi, Rebecca. This is Eve Vitali of On the Verge magazine. We spoke about Esme a few months back. I'm a big fan."

"Oh, hi, thanks. You know, a lot of good things have come from the article."

"I know. I saw the ad in Variety and rumor has it that you're developing the interstitials into a series."

"How do you know that? We haven't even had the upfront yet."

"I know people who know people." Eve was very matter-of-fact. She had a confidence I envied. "The reason I'm calling is because we're doing an article on women who have their dream jobs and we wanted to interview you. Our readers love this stuff, and truth be told, so do I."

"Dream job, huh? "

"Yeah, I'm assuming from our last conversation that this is your dream job, right?"

"I guess so. I honestly haven't had time to think about it. It just sort of happened."

"That's how it goes," said Eve, sounding like an old sage, but a happy one. "So you would like to do the article."

"Absolutely, but I'm going to have to get back to you about when."

"Cool. We were thinking in a couple of weeks."

"Great, that'll be after the upfront. I'll know if I'm really getting my dream job or if it's all just a dream."

"I think it will feel a bit surreal no matter what. Take care and good luck."

"Bye."

* * *

The last week of jury duty we had really hot weather. The room was stifling. It made me sort of glad that, in spite of everything, I got it over with. I couldn't imagine doing it during the long, hot summer.

Jury duty had complicated my life, but in a way I was grateful for it. I think it was good for me to see how people's decisions can affect their entire lives.

On the last day of jury duty, I was in the break room kind of staring at the water cooler, but really scoping juror number nine. He smiled at me when he came out of the bathroom. He had very white teeth and very blue eyes.

"Hey," he said. "Are you happy to be done?"

"Sort of," I said. "Now, I guess I have to work even more."

"I know what you mean." We laughed. "What's your real name?"

"Rebecca."

"Does anyone call you Becky?"

"Yes," I said. "But I don't like it."

"Oh, okay, Rebecca. I'm Seamus." What a great name. "You know, I've noticed a bunch of great restaurants that are pretty close to here. Do you like restaurants?"

"Of course. Doesn't everyone?" Was he about to ask me out? Was I ready to accept? Would this mean I was over Tommy? Was I? This was happening too fast. "You know I've been so busy lately. I mean, I really have no life. My friends actually got me, well never mind. And I just got out of this long relationship, although I'm not sure that I'm really out of it. And I think I want to be, but I'm not exactly sure."

"Whoa, whoa," he said holding up his hand. "It's just dinner."

"I know, I'm just so, I don't know, something, these days."

"Well, look," he took out his wallet and handed me his card. "Why don't you call me when you're not so, I don't know, something." He smiled.

I looked at the card and nodded. "I will call. I promise."

"Okay, good. I've enjoyed listening to you think up names for our continuous cases and I noticed that you always asked the questions I was thinking of."

"Really? That's cool. I really like your teeth." Why had I said that? What the hell was my problem? He laughed, so I got a better look at them. Quite nice.

"Great, Rebecca. Good luck with your work and your life and I hope I hear from you."

And that was it. The ball was in my court. I had to make this decision without the help of a jury or Tommy or Hackett. And I would make it. Just not now.

* * *

Tommy's idea for the panda connection worked out perfectly. I practically stuck a caffeine IV in my arm and worked on it for three days straight. When I was done, all I could see was pandas. I was sick of it, but Janice and John both seemed to be impressed. It was as if they finally believed I could animate.

Hackett liked it, too. Of course he had a ton more changes on the second segment, but we had sort of anticipated that in our schedule so we were only about a week behind. Time was ticking, but I felt like maybe, just maybe, we could get this thing done. If we did, it would mean that I had conceived of and produced a network TV show.

Lauryn had her sex party, which I had to miss because of work. Kathy tells me it was a ton of fun and she's really been enjoying her edible body paint. Beth got handcuffs in case things heat up with her coworker. She didn't mention anything about knowing about my night with Tommy. I think it's better that way.

Lauryn has decided she's going to get some therapy to deal with her issues about the divorce. She asked me if I wanted to do some kind of partner plan, as if we were getting a trainer or something, but I just don't have the time.

The three of my so-called friends bought me a stuffed panda and put a hot-pink dildo in his hand. They left this for me on my bed. It was just what I needed to see after working for three days straight. I'm sure I'll find it funny one of these days.

I still feel like things are spiraling a bit, but it isn't out of control. I just have to go with it. Who knows what kind of things could come from this article? Maybe everything, maybe nothing. And if the Big Guys don't go for Esme at the upfront, well then, I'll just have to deal. It has been a good experience, I think. I wonder if I will ever stop feeling like I'm winging this whole thing.

Okay, I see a hand. I was getting to it. Tommy. We had a very nice evening, but I think it was really the end. Okay, I don't know, but the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth of what I think right now is that it's over.

But there's always a chance he'll appeal. I just know I'm not going over there again. That is a promise I made to myself. We've both got to have some time to think.

So that's it, for now. I have to talk to Janice and John about the final cut of this. We still have to do the audio. I'm never getting to sleep tonight. I also think I'm developing a bit of a caffeine addiction.

I am certainly going to get a lot of use out of those undereye masks.