Those were the ones Andie had to worry about, and she regarded them warily-the prospective jurors who had their time-tested, A-number-1 alibis honed and ready to go. Bosses' letters. Partners' meetings. Travel schedules, deals going down. A cruise to Bermuda that was already fully paid.

Of course, Andie hadn't exactly come empty-handed.

She had put on her tight red T-shirt with the words DONOTDISTURBemblazoned across the chest. It was the tackiest thing she owned, but we weren't talkingfashionista here.

We were talkingadios -excused. Even if it was on the grounds of being thought an airhead or a bimbo.

Then there was the single-mother thing. That was legit. Jarrod was nine, and he was her best buddy as well as her biggest handful these days. Who would pick him up from school, answer his questions, help him with his homework, if she couldn't be there for him?

Finally, there were her auditions. Her agent at William Morris had scheduled two for this week alone.

To amuse herself, Andie counted the faces of people who looked intelligent and open-minded and didn't seem to be conveying they had somewhere else to go. She stopped when she got to twenty. That felt good. They only needed twelve, right?

Next to her, a heavyset Hispanic woman knitting a pink baby's sweater leaned over."Sorry, but jou know what kinda trial dis is?"

"No." Andie shrugged, glancing around at the security."But from the looks of it, it's something big. You see those guys? They're reporters. And did you notice the barricades outside and those cops milling around? More uniforms in this place than in an NYPD Blue wardrobe closet."

The woman smiled."Rosella," she said amiably.

"I'm Andie," Andie said, extending her hand.

"So, Andie, how jou geton dis jury, anyway, jou know?"

Andie squinted at her as if she hadn't heard right."Youwant to get picked?"

"Sure. My huzban say you get forty dollars a day, plus train fare. The woman I work for, she pay me whichever way. So why not take the cash?"