Megan's cellphone rang, and not for the first time that morning. She flipped it open and let her marketing rep, and old friend Bernie, rant for twenty minutes. She finished touching up her make-up, punctuating the one-sided conversation with polite noises of attentiveness and agreement. There was a roar from down the hall and Megan said, "Bernie, I have to go. They're ready to start the shoot. Can you just e-mail it all to me? Yeah. Yeah. I promise, Bernie, I always read them. Okay. Good-bye." Bernie had been with her from the start when she'd been working for a local, town-wide, television station. Now her show was internationally syndicated, and she had Bernie's top-notch, cut-throat marketing and negotiating skills to thank for that, as much as her own talent. Megan adjusted her bright orange wig making sure every strand of black hair was out of sight. With the wig and the make-up, the face in the mirror looked like a complete stranger, and a very odd one at that. Only the eyes remained hers and she wondered how she'd keep the tired haze from showing while the camera was rolling.
