I didn’t doubt that for a minute.

“So how about it,” she said. “You interested?”

“What exactly did you have in mind as a salary?”

“Three thousand.”

“I don’t know,” I said. “Three thousand dollars isn’t much. After all, the book will take months to write.”

“Not three thousand for the whole book, silly. Three thousand a week.”

Suddenly, the toilet didn’t seem so uncomfortable after all.

Chapter Two

“Three thousand dollars a week?”

My best friend, Kandi Tobolowski, sat across from me at our favorite Mexican restaurant, Pacos Tacos, where everything is defiantly fried in lard, and the combination plates have been known to send healthy men hurtling into cardiac arrest.

Kandi and I have been best friends ever since we met at a UCLA screenwriting course. We hit it off right away, in spite of the fact that she’s reed thin and has fabulous chestnut hair that never frizzes in the rain.

I’d told her all about my new job with SueEllen Kingsley, and now we were celebrating.

“Three thousand a week?” she said. “That’s fantastic.”

“I know,” I said, flagging down a passing waiter.

“Garçon,” I called out. “Give me a bottle of your very best champagne.”

The guy looked at me like I was nuts.

“We don’t have champagne, señorita.”

“Then bring us a pitcher of your very best margaritas.”

He nodded and headed off to the bar.

“Can you believe it?” I said, scooping a wad of guacamole onto a chip. “All I have to do is write down a couple of recipes, throw in a few anecdotes, and I bring home three thousand a week!”

“That’s great news, sweetie,” Kandi said. “But I’ve got even better news for you.”

“What could be better than three thousand dollars a week?”

“Tommy the Termite wants to go out with you!”

“Tommy the Termite? Who on earth is that? Sounds like a mafia hitman.”

“No, silly. He’s an actor from my show.”

Kandi is a writer for the animated cartoon series Beanie & The Cockroach. For those of you lucky enough to have never seen it, it’s a stirring saga about a chef named Beanie and his pet cockroach, Fred.

“His name is Ted Lawson. He’s very cute, and apparently he’s just broken up with his girlfriend.”

“Sorry, Kandi,” I said. “But I’m not dating an actor/insect.”

I scooped up another glob of guacamole, while Kandi took a tiny bite off the corner of a chip. Which is why Kandi wears a size six, and I wear a size—well, never mind what size I wear. Let’s just say it’s somewhere in the double digits.

“What am I going to do with you, Jaine? You sit alone in your apartment night after night, and when opportunity comes knocking, you hide under the sofa cushions. Do you want to wind up a crazy old lady who gives birthday parties for her cats?”

“What, may I ask, is wrong with giving a birthday party for one’s cat?”

Kandi’s eyes widened. “Don’t tell me you give Prozac birthday parties?”