All About Evie. Beth Ciotta

were looking for T & A, so I showed them T.”

      He smiled. “Yeah, right.” Shaking his head, he leaned over, signed on to the Internet and speed-typed an e-mail.

      I squelched a smug retort. I wasn’t the only predictable one in this room.

      Case closed, I thought, as he signed off AOL, snagged his briefcase and shooed me toward the door.

      “What time am I expected at the airport?” I asked, more than happy not to elaborate on the botched audition.

      “In three hours. You’ll have to haul ass. I’ll call you on your cell with details.” He followed me out the door, down the stairs and onto the buckled sidewalk.

      I glanced over my shoulder, cursing myself for wanting to impress him even as the words left my mouth. “You won’t regret this, Michael.”

      “It’s not you I’m worried about,” he said as we moved toward separate cars, separate lives. “It’s Arch.”