Chapter Three
In a cramped office in New York, Bekah Taylor’s phone rang.
The producer sighed, and grabbed it, going through the early pleasantries of the call. It was a reliable source, one who had pointed out more than a few famous people to wander through the Mayo Clinic. Still, with just twenty minutes until air time, it was a lousy time for a call, and Taylor said so.
“Becks, trust me, this is huge. Mega-huge.”
“What, Brad Pitt, Jennifer Aniston and Angelina Jolie all have the same strain of the clap?”
“Better.”
“So who’s the patient? Britney? Paris?”
“No no no, Becks, nobody famous.”
“Yeah…okay. Look, we don’t do news of the weird here. I don’t care how big the tumor in the fat lady’s gut was.”
“Look, will you trust me? This is something new. Totally new. A guy’s shrinking.”
Bekah stopped at that. “Shrinking?”
“Shrinking. He’s two feet shorter than he used to be. And it hasn’t stopped. He was just through here, but he’s on his way back home. I’ve got his address.”
Bekah drummed her pencil. “Isn’t shrinking normal? I mean, I remember my grandma shrunk.”
“Maybe by an inch or two, when you’re 80. Bone settles just a little bit, you get shorter. This guy, though – he’s literally getting smaller every day, and he’s pretty young. Everyone’s baffled, never seen anything like it. Frankly, I’m amazed it hasn’t got out yet. But when it does, it’s gonna be huge.”
“Is there any other hook to it?”
“You need a hook? Really?”
“No,” admitted Bekah. “But I want everything you know about him.”
“Usual fee?” the source asked.
“Usual fee.” (more…)
