“You are. Or you will be. I write, but it’s not what I’m great at. I’m great at getting shit done,” Zanne said, sitting forward, holding her notebook with both hands like it would steady her. She had another one of those flashes she used to have to race to jot down before work intruded, the spark of an idea, only now she didn’t have to ignore it and deal with Ted’s bullshit. “I will hustle from the moment my feet hit the ground until my head hits the pillow. I will make the impossible possible. I’ll work harder than anyone, even harder than you.”

“Is this a job interview now?” Phoebe asked. “Are you applying to work for me?”

Yes. She was. The spark lingered, like a backyard sparkler on the Fourth of July. “I’m offering myself to you,” Zanne said. She tucked her chin down and lifted one side of her lips into a sly grin. “Professionally, I mean.”

Phoebe laughed. “Well, for starters, I work in Oakland. LA’s not for me.”

“Me either,” Zanne said. “Too many ghosts.”

“And I don’t want to rent your brain. I want you to get what you give. And I can’t pay much. Can’t pay you anything actually. But if I got a distribution deal...”

“Then we could negotiate.”

Phoebe considered. Zanne held her breath.

“Okay,” Phoebe said. She folded her napkin in half and threw it down on the table for emphasis.

Zanne’s face stretched into a full, broad smile. The spark caught fire like a grand finale fireworks display. She leaned back, stretching her arms across the back of the booth. “Okay. What time’s your flight?”

“Tomorrow morning, but looks like I need to reschedule.”

“Then you’ve got time. Want to go for a swim?”

Phoebe let Zanne pay the bill—Zanne was jobless now, but she still wasn’t a teacher—and they got back in the truck. Phoebe liked the way Zanne drove, equally confident with the turns in the road and in her ability to say nothing when it would have been so easy to fill the night with small talk. The beachfront homes of Malibu slumbered on their left.

Zanne turned the truck around and parked in a narrow lot on the shoulder of the road. She turned off the engine and looked at Phoebe. “You up for it?”

A car whooshed by, lighting up Zanne’s face and buffeting the truck. She wasn’t smiling, but her earlier fatigue was long gone.

“What the hell,” Phoebe said.