Chapter 11

SIGN ON THE DOTTED LINE

We’d shoot on a soundstage here in New York,” Ms. Wilder continues. “Keep you close to your friends and family.”

“We’d like that,” says Uncle Frankie. “Jamie has a lot of fans at my diner.”

“A diner that, by the way, will pick up oodles of free publicity from the show,” says Joe Amodio. “Because it will be one of our main sets.”

Uncle Frankie is thrilled. “Fantastic! If you want, I can teach you how to flip a burger backward. People love it. Unless, you know, I miss.”

“Terrific, Frankie baby. But before we can flip burgers behind our backs or do anything else, we need to know that Jamie is officially on board.”

All of a sudden, it sounds like we’re going to film my sitcom on a boat.

Mr. Amodio stands up and holds out his hand. One of the suits sitting next to him pops open her briefcase, pulls out a thick legal document, and slaps it into his open palm.

“What’s that?” asks Uncle Frankie.

“Jamie’s new contract. It’s for the pilot. Just one episode. But if that single episode is the hit I know it will be, we’ll be back with an even thicker contract. For twenty-two more episodes and twenty-two times more money.”

The suit sitting closest to me opens his briefcase and hands me a very nice pen. The gold kind you’d get as a gift when you graduate from college.

“You can keep it after you sign,” Suit Man says when he sees me admiring the shiny pen. I’m used to Bics.

Joe Amodio slides the very important-looking stack of paper across the table to me.

“We just need you to sign everywhere you see the little stickies that say sign,” says the lawyer, twisting the sparkling pen to life.

“Unfortunately,” says Brad Grody, glancing at his very sparkly watch, “I have another meeting in New York City. I’d like to get there… sometime today.”

In other words, he wants me to hurry up and sign the contract.

But, for some reason, I can’t. My hand is frozen.

Yep. I’m choking again.