“I need today’s dialogue changes.”

The changes weren’t on Amy’s desk. Just to be on the safe side, she quickly checked Rachel’s desk, the top of both filing cabinets, and the gray metal shelving unit.

Together, they turned toward the bull pen.

“I went in last time,” Amy told him, crossing her arms over her UBC sweatshirt.

“I’m the set PA,” he reminded her. “The bull pen’s way outside my job description.”

“You want to get anywhere in this business, Tony, you have to show initiative.”

“I’d rather wrestle Richard Simmons.”

“You wish.”

“Hey, guys, what’s up?”

Together, they turned toward the office PA.

Veronica’s eyes widened at the sight of their smiles and she took a step back. “What?”

“I need you to pick up some dialogue changes from the writers for this morning’s shoot,” Amy told her while Tony tried to keep the word “sucker” from showing on his face in any way.

She looked a little confused but nodded. “Sure, no problem.”

They watched her stride purposefully into the bull pen and exit considerably faster a few moments later clutching four sheets of paper to her chest.

“What is that smell?”

“No one knows.” Amy pried the pages from Veronica’s white-knuckled fingers and headed for the photocopier. “What’re we up to? Blue?”

Tony checked his sides for the latest script revision color. “Yeah, blue.”

“Why blue?” Veronica asked.

Tony shrugged. “Because the camera breakdowns are on green.”

“That’s not a reason for blue.”

Amy patted her on the shoulder as she handed Tony the photocopies. “One of the first things you’ve got to learn in this business, kid, is that a lot of stuff happens just because.”

“But why do . . . ?”

“Because.”

“Yes, but . . .”

“Just because.” Dropping into her chair, Amy reached for the ringing phone. “And while we’re on the topic, can you try and find another ream of blue paper in that stack of office supplies in the kitchen. CB Productions. How can I help?”

When Veronica continued to look confused, Tony turned her toward the kitchen and gave her a little shove. He’d taken two steps toward the soundstage when the front doors opened and Zev came in, one hand beating time to the rhythm in his headphones. Tony waited until he was sure the musical director could see him, then he smiled and waved.

Zev’s return salutation was distinctly frosty and he continued straight through to post without stopping to talk.

By the time Tony had turned to ask Amy what was up, she already had her hand over the mouthpiece of the phone.

“Because you were a shit to him yesterday.”

“You could at least wait until I asked.”

“Time is money, buckaroo. Go apologize.”