Jesse leaned forward and turned up the volume. Richard Collins was laughing very hard. Lucy said, “I mean, I’m too old to be in the Brat Pack and too young for my own exercise tape. What am I?” Richard Collins laughed harder.

“She’s very funny,” said Jesse.

“She is funny,” Suzanne said. “She was very nervous.”

“I’m nervous myself,” he said. “I feel dumb doing this, but my publishers . . . you know. Do you live out here? I guess you do.”

“Yes,” said Suzanne.

“Well,” Jesse said, “maybe we could . . . I don’t want to seem presumptuous, but maybe we could have lunch or something. Or go out sometime. What do you do to relax?”

“I don’t relax,” said Suzanne. “It’s sort of a therapy goal of mine.”

“I see.”

“But what I do that’s the closest I get to relaxing,” said Suzanne, “is I drive around and listen to loud music.”

“Well, maybe we can take a long loud drive sometime,” he said.

Suzanne looked back at the screen and saw that Lucy wasn’t there anymore. “Oh my God, I’ve gotta go find my friend, she’s gonna kill me,” she said. She scribbled her number on the flap of the envelope Rehab! had arrived in, tore it off, and gave it to Jesse. “This is my number,” she said. “Good luck on the show.”

“Thanks,” said Jesse. “I’ll call you sometime.”

Suzanne rushed past the tall man who was coming to get Jesse and saw Lucy running down the hall toward her. “Did you hear what I said about my father?” she asked hysterically. “He’s gonna kill me. He’s never gonna speak to me again.”

“No, honey, it was fine,” Suzanne said calmingly. “You were funny about the Brat Pack thing—”

“Did I have lipstick on my teeth?”

“You were fine,” Suzanne said. “But what did you say about your father?”

“I thought you said I was fine,” Lucy said. “Were you watching the wrong channel?”

“You were fine,” Suzanne assured her. “I saw everything but that. I looked away for a second—”

“At what?” Lucy demanded.

“I was talking to a guy,” Suzanne said. “The author guy.”

“Did he think I was good-looking?” Lucy asked. Suzanne nodded. “And you didn’t hear the father thing? Do you know what I said about my father? That he was a giant whale and I wasn’t sure he was actually my father. I called him my alleged father.”

“So?” said Suzanne. “He’s got a sense of humor, doesn’t he?”

“My father? The Republican nightmare?”

“Well, are you counting on his will for anything?”

“Don’t be funny about this,” Lucy said. “Oh, all right, be funny. The show is over, you can make fun of me now. So, you didn’t think it sounded slutty when I said I went on talk shows to meet guys?”