on each other. You bring me whatever has come out of your hot little hands and put it into my hot little hands. I will guarantee, at minimum, a five year development deal that we can hammer out as soon as I know exactly what I’ve got.”

“No shit?”

“No fuckin shit. It’s not much, but enough to enable you to just write for a little while, and just long enough for me to figure out if we can get something usable and exciting. Then. We’ll go from there.” Jenson pumped Ian’s hand like a comedian in a really bad sitcom.

“And I may have another idea kicking around in my mind as well, but I’ve got to think one for a while. I need to get your work in shape as quickly as possible; I just have to figure out how to do that for my benefit as well as yours.”

“Anything you want. You got.”

“You’d better mean that when you say it, because as soon as I hatch my little scheme, I may call you Monday and tell you I need finished product by last week.”

“Hot damn, the impossible is yours, my friend, the impossible is yours….”

And that’s exactly what Ian needed done, the impossible, but exactly how he was going to achieve that was yet to be determined. He just knew that somehow he would get it all to fall into place. He called Blake to arrange for a standard promissory contract with a small check to be cut for Jenson immediately. He figured the guy could use a little cash, so he arranged to have it cut sooner than later.

Ian’s gut told him this man would become very important to his tenure at HRT. He just didn’t know how. Something kept telling him that Jenson not only had potential as a writer, but that together they would make a good creative team. The fact that he reminded him of someone or something that was important kept nagging at him.

As he came back from walking Jenson to the elevator, the new girl at the phones was chewing gum and trying to hide the magazine she was reading. He nonchalantly told her to get rid of the gum and breezed past when it hit him. He stopped and stretched out his hand. “Let me see the magazine…”

“What magazine?”

“Haley, you know what magazine…” he held out his hand to her.

“Ian, I couldn’t help it, there’s this great article…oh fuck, it won’t happen again.” She put the magazine in her desk drawer.”

“Haley, I don’t care if you read the frigging karma sutra at your desk as long as the phones get answered and you get the messages out promptly, I really want to see the magazine. Hand it over.”

“Really?”

“Give it!”

She opened the drawer and handed it to him. “They have this really great article my girlfriend was telling me about….”

Ian ignored her, “I’ll bring this back.”

“Oh…okay…” Haley picked up the phone, “HRT, Ian Justyn’s office….”

Ian tucked the magazine under his arm, and as he walked by Wella’s desk, he didn’t bother to mention that she was chatting with Blake who was sitting on her desk. “Wella, Blake, either one or both, get me Pearce Warner on the phone right now. I