Grabbing hold of the beer, I chug the rest. I stare at Tony’s business card. I wonder if my mom is telling me the truth. That he gave it to her with the express purpose of my calling him.

Heart beating in my throat, I reach down along-side the bed for my jeans. My phone is still stuffed inside one of the pockets. Using my thumbprint, I unlock the device and go to the dialer icon and press it. My mouth goes more and more dry with each digit I dial. My stomach also grows tighter. What is this? Am I still in high school?

After plugging in the final number, I automatically punch the fire-engine red stop icon. I feel a quick wave of relief swim over me, followed immediately by a wave of shame.

“What the hell is the matter with you, Tanya?” I say aloud. “You’re forty-two years old.”

I don’t care if Jacquie can hear me or if she comments. I’m that angry with myself. That disappointed. Of course, there is always another option. I could send him a friendly email. But email takes too long. It’s after ten at night. He might already be in bed reading, and not interested in reading his emails until tomorrow morning. In fact, the stable of thriller authors I used to edit would almost always go to bed early to read and often times, not get to their emails until after they’d written a significant number of new words come the next morning. It wasn’t unusual for me to email them on any given afternoon and not hear back from them until the following afternoon, twenty-four hours later. Might as well send an old-fashioned letter using an old-fashioned stamp. That is, the U.S. Postal Service still existed.

But a third option might just be the perfect solution. Why don’t I text him? The authors I was just speaking of, they might not answer an email right away, and they almost never answer the phone, but they always seemed to respond to texts right away. I’m not sure why they did that, but texts always seemed like the perfect way to communicate with them. It was also the less personal, which right now, works fine by me considering I’m talking about the man who stole my heart back in the early two thousands.

I thumb the text option set below Tony’s phone number. As I position my thumb to type a quick text, I feel myself growing almost as nervous as I was when dialing his number. For a woman who prides herself on her ability to create words, sentences, paragraphs and even full stories, I am, at present experiencing the worst bout of writer’s block possible.

“Just fucking say hi, Tanya,” I insist. Then, as though I’m my own twin standing on the opposite side of the room. “Don’t put so much pressure on me.”

Breathing in deeply, I slowly empty my lungs.

I type, Hi there Tony. You’ll never guess who this is.

I find myself smiling. I guess I could be less cryptic, but if I’m about to go through with this, which I obviously am, I might as well make it fun. I press the green send icon. Message sent. I set the phone down on top of To Kill a Mockingbird, as if there’s some special significance in placing it there. While my heart pounds against my sternum, I wait for a reply.

I could shut out the light and pray for sleep, but I know damn well, sleep isn’t going to come very easily tonight. My eyes gravitate toward my old dresser of drawers. My laptop is set on top of it. It beckons me to take hold of it and take care of some business. Slipping out of bed, I reach for the laptop, carry it back into bed with me. Opening the lid, the scanner recognizes my face and automatically boots up the Drake Search Engine home page.

First things first. See how much money I have left in my account at a bank that’s set to shut its vault for good in just a few months, now that Everest has bought it out. I log into my account and I’m immediately faced with a whole bunch of red numbers.

“Oh good God,” I say aloud.

My account balance is negative $231.23. I check my credit card statement, which is attached to the same bought out bank (and now officially an Everest.com card). It’s also a doozy. I owe $15,000 and change. Sure, I was a powerhouse editor at a big, high-paying publishing house that paid more per month than my dad would make in three months at the hardware store. But living in New York City in 2028 is a horribly expensive venture. My Park Avenue apartment might have been located at a primo address, but the one bedroom, galley kitchen, one bath space cost me upwards of nine thousand per month, not including doorman and other associated fees. In other words, I couldn’t afford it, no matter how much I tried to skimp. But skimping was never much of an option with friends like Kate who live for their cocktails and nightlife.

“At least I still have a couple hundred cash stuffed in my bag,” I whisper, as if this is supposed to somehow reassure me.

My heart is all aflutter and it isn’t because of my text to Tony. Instead it has an awful lot to do with my debt and what’s looking more and more like a bleak future. What the hell am I going to do? What choice do I have? Do I want to live with my parents forever? What if Tony texts me back and he wants to meet me? What do I tell him then? I’m broke, without a prayer of getting another editing job, and in fact, owe fifteen-thousand-bucks on my credit card. He finds out the truth, he’ll run for the hills.

I click on my email. I delete a whole bunch of useless spam and sure enough, there it is, just like Jacquie promised. The subject heading, Everest Primary Membership Program. Attached is an application that I must sign digitally. But before that, there’s an explanatory video that goes along with the program. I click on the video.

It shows a good-looking man and an equally good-looking woman walking in a park, hand in hand. He’s African American and she’s white. They have lovely smiles on their faces, and they are dressed handsomely. You can’t tell what it is they’re talking about, but you get the distinct feeling that it’s nothing important. Just two very happy and in love people whiling the day away with not a care in the world.

“Imagine going through life without having to worry about money?” poses the voice over. “Imagine being debt free for the rest of your life? Imagine being free from all financial worry and concern? Imagine living life on your terms? Being free to do whatever you want to do whenever you want to do it. Free from having to drag yourself to a job you hate, day in and day out. Free from having to waste away your precious free time running errands here, there, and everywhere. Free even to just do nothing at all if that’s what you choose.

“Imagine living a much happier, healthier, fulfilling life where your time is yours and yours alone? Well, that dream can now be accomplished by applying for the Everest Corporation Primary Membership Program. When you become a member, you will be paid the equivalent of two-thousand dollars per week in Everest Credits. Are you presently losing sleep over mounting debt? For a limited time, Everest dot com is offering a promotional package that includes total debt forgiveness. Once you become a Primary member, all that’s required of you is to purchase all your products and services through Everest dot com. Since most of you are doing that now anyway, it should make for an easy and seamless transition.

“So, why not get free today? Why not throw all those worries away and become a much happier, anxiety free you? Why not take back control of your life?”

“Is this for real?” I silently ask myself. “Of course it’s real. You’ve known it’s real for a long time. You just refused to believe it. But now that your own parents believe it, maybe it’s time you did, too.”

My phone buzzes. The buzz and the vibration that goes along with it means I have a new text message.

Heart be still . . .

I pick up the smartphone, gaze at the digital face. It’s from Tony. I open the text. I spot my original text to him.

Hi there Tony. You’ll never guess who this is.

His response: I heard you were back in town, Tanya. A little birdie told me.

My heart feels as if a soft little fluffy puppy has cozied up to it. I wrack my brain for something witty to text back. Oh, crap, just tell the truth and hope he’ll find it witty enough.

I’m afraid my life has become a bit of a train wreck, Tony. You wouldn’t like me anymore. LOL.

Nonsense, he writes. The world is changing, and I guess we sort of have to change along with it.

If you remember, I hate change, Tony Smart, which I guess makes me Tanya Not So Smart.

Back in the day, Tony used to call me that, as a joke. We’d introduce ourselves as Tony Smart and Tanya Not So Smart, which always elicited a laugh or two. The point of the joke was this: How smart was I if I was hanging out with Tony Smart?

He writes: And if I remember, you are one of the most stubborn women in the world. Lucky for you, you didn’t ride the Titanic, or you would have gone down with the ship.

Excellent metaphor, Bestseller, because God knows I’m drowning.

Let’s talk about it. Meet me for a coffee in the morning, Tan.

Are you asking or telling?

Asking, Lady.

Don’t you have to work on the word count, Bestseller?

I’m my own boss, Tan. I’m even my own publisher now, which probably makes you want to slap me. I can decide my own hours.

One eye on the Everest Primary Program on my laptop screen and the other on my text messages.

Let me guess, Bestseller, you’re also an Everest Primary Program member.

Hey, I’m a writer. You are, too. Or used to be, anyway. That program was heaven sent for any artist, Tanya. Use it or lose it.

I’ll be dipped, but he is absolutely right. As an editor, the artist angle of the Everest Primary Program never even dawned on me. Had I been thinking about it as a writer, like my dad suggested while we were out at the park today, I might have put two and two together and signed up ages ago.

Thanks for that, Tony . . .

I’m in for coffee, I write. What else do I have to do with my time?

How about meet me at the Everest Starbucks across from the old Times Union Newspaper building? Ten AM. Wear something sexy and revealing.

Oh my God, that is so Tony . . .

Good to see you haven’t lost your sense of humor. How do you know I’m not four- hundred pounds and toothless?

Ha ha, because one, your mom would have told me, and two, I’ve been keeping up with you and your accomplishments on the web. Oh, and thanks for publishing me, BTW.

My stomach sinks.

We’ll talk about it tomorrow, Bestseller. Looks like you didn’t need me in order to conquer the literary world.

Would have been nice.

Goodnight, Tony Smart.

Good night, Tanya Not so Smart. Glad we’re in touch again.

Is that what we are, back in touch? I suddenly feel lighter than air. And yeah, I certainly hope my new underwear gets here on time. You never know. Setting the phone down, I once again stare at the laptop screen and the Everest Primary Program website. I click on the PDF application form and it comes up for me. There’s a whole bunch of terms and conditions which I skip over (I’m too lazy and way too tired to read the fine print. Who isn’t?). I scroll all the way to the electronic signature portion of the contract.

In my head, I see my Dad’s face, hear him talking about what a relief it is to not have to worry about money. I see my mom laying out a feast of Everest pot roast and red wine. Very good red wine, I might add. I reread Tony’s text without having to look at it again . . . the one text that’s really hit home.

Hey, I’m a writer. You are, too. Or used to be, anyway. That program was heaven sent for any artist, Tanya. Use it or lose it.

Now, if the people I love the most (and used to love the most, in Tony’s case) are signing up for the program, maybe my worries about Primary Program violators disappearing are entirely unfounded and the result of my rather overactive imagination.

Just do it, Tan . . . live a worry-free life . . .

Electronically signing the contract application, I thumb the Enter key and send it back to Everest.com.

“I wonder when I’ll find out if I’ve been accepted or not,” I whisper out loud.

“You already have been accepted,” says Jacquie. “Congratulations, Tanya. You’re not only debt free, you never have to worry about money again. Just remember to use only Everest products and services exclusively. I hope that you find the Everest Primary Membership Program an enjoyable and satisfactory, stress free life experience.”

Why am I not surprised that Jacquie chimed in so quickly?

“I’m sure I will, Jacquie,” I say, closing the laptop and setting it beside my smartphone, and To Kill a Mockingbird. “It’s a new, worry-free era for old Scout.”

Shutting off the lamp, I lie in the dark staring up at the ceiling. So, why is it then, that I’m still worried?