The Job by Janet Evanovich, Lee Goldberg

would’ve flirted with the cops for a few hours, posted bail, gone back to my hotel with that young security guard and had some fun, and then skedaddled out of the state and skipped the trial.”
    “Is that what you do with all the money we pay you? Use it to jump bail when you take joyrides in stolen cars?”
    “That wasn’t just any car, honey, it’s the biggest one on earth. Now I can tick that off my bucket list.”
    “What else would you like to drive?”
    “A bullet train. An Apache attack helicopter. The Hennessey Venom GT. The stealth bomber.”
    “How about a hundred-and-fifty-foot cargo ship?”
    “That doesn’t sound very sexy.”
    “Did I mention it’s in Portugal, and we’ll pay you a hundred thousand dollars?”
    “Deal,” she said.
    “Don’t you want to know who our target is?”
    “Not really. But I am curious what that piece of tin was that you flashed to those security guards back there.”
    He reached into his pocket and tossed the leather case into the backseat. She caught it and opened it up. It was a Geek Squad badge from Best Buy.
    “Remind me never to play poker with you,” she said. “You’re too good at bluffing.”

    The talk show set in the Simi Valley, California, soundstage looked like every other one on late-night television. There was a desk, a chair, and a couch lined up against a backdrop of the Hollywood Hills. But this was no Jimmy Fallon, Conan, or David Letterman show. This studio audience was paid to attend and the host wasn’t a comedian but, rather, an actor, Boyd Capwell, hired to play the part. Boyd was perfectly cast for the role. He was good-looking in an aging anchorman sort of way, had a full head of hair, great teeth, and wore a suit well.
    “Welcome back to
Straight Talk.
My guest tonight is Delmer Pratt of Beaumont, Texas,” Boyd said, staring into the camera. “His life was spiraling into madness and despair until he discovered Uberboner, the incredible herbal remedy for impotence.”
    The audience applauded. Delmer sat stiffly in his chair and nodded his thanks. He wore a John Deere cap, flannel shirt, jeans, and work boots. He was a real Uberboner user, but he’d been given the clothes to wear, a script to learn, and a check to make his humiliation worthwhile.
    “For years, I carried a secret shame. I wasn’t able to satisfy my wife’s womanly needs the way a husband should.” Delmer repeated his lines in the unnatural tone of someone not used to reciting memorized dialogue. “I was slow, soft, and listless, unable to stand at attention in the bedroom. I needed to man up before my marriage and my self-respect completely crumbled. Fortunately for me, one of my friends recommended Uberboner, the affordable herbal remedy available only on TV.Now I am ten times the man I ever was, and my marriage has been saved.”
    “That’s truly amazing, Delmer, and I’m happy for you and your wife,” Boyd said. “But now that you’re manly again, have you ever wondered what caused the problem in the first place?”
    “Excuse me?” Delmer asked.
    It was the first thing he’d said that wasn’t scripted and memorized.
    Boyd leaned toward him earnestly. “What was your relationship with your mother like?”
    “My mother?” Delmer looked to someone offstage. “What the hell does my mother have to do with this?”
    “Impotence is often more psychological than physical,” Boyd said. “You’ve solved the blood-flow problem, but what about what’s happening in your head?”
    “Who gives a crap about that?”
    “You will when the pill stops working and you become a limp noodle again, because your inner demons come roaring back to life.”
    “CUT!”
    A gray-haired man in a doctor’s lab coat marched onto the set and up to Boyd’s desk. He was Dr. Landry, the inventor of Uberboner. He was also the writer, director, financier of the infomercial, and the next scheduled guest.
    “What kind of question was that?” Landry asked Boyd.
    “The obvious