"What's next on the agenda?" Jeanne wanted to know. "Maybe I lasso the moon with smoke rings blown from Buccaneer cigarettes?"
"Maybe you do eventually. Not right now. Right now you have to hop a plane for New Mexico and have a chat with the boyfriend."
"What?" Jeanne felt something flip-flop madly in the pit of her stomach. "Dan! Oh, Dan!"
"That's right, honey. Through the courtesy of 'Hands Across the Ocean,' sponsored by Cleopatra Complexion Soap. A radio broadcast across a quarter of a million miles of space to re-unite you and Tommy boy. At least, for three minutes."
"Oh, Dan, Dan—that's wonderful." Jeanne stood up, removed the napkin from her lap. "If I hurry home and pack I can make a night plane and be in New Mexico by—"
"Whoa. Relax, honey, there's no rush. The show is tomorrow night, 11 P.M. our time. I've booked your reservation for the morning."
"I'm too excited to eat, Dan. Really. But thanks for everything." Jeanne bent down as Lubrano prepared to attack his tenderloin again. She kissed his forehead playfully, turned to leave.
Someone snickered, "That's the moon girl, I think. I thought her boyfriend was way up there. Another cheap publicity stunt."
"Careful," Dan frowned. "So you're happy. Don't go around ruining everything."
Still smiling, Jeanne left.