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“There were zombies crashing the steps at City Hall,” cried Devyn. “Zombies chasing people up the stairwells at subway stations!’

“And don’t forget Central Park,” I beamed proudly. “The whole thing was a commercial for a new first-person shooter, by a gaming company no one had ever heard of. Never mind that zombies were played out by then. Or that first-person shooters were a dime a dozen.”

“That commercialrocked,” Devyn declared. “They played it everywhere.”

“It went viral as viral can be,” I nodded. “On YouTube alone it pushed past two-hundred million views in the first two weeks. And now that gaming company is a household name. We handle every ounce of their marketing needs, everything from design and packaging to radio ads, television, and of course, online presence.”

“I still can’t believe that was you,” he breathed. He looked me over again, this time with all new eyes. “Shit. You’re famous!”

“Sort of,” I shrugged. “My company took off after that. They started calling me the Viral Vixen.”

“Viral Vixen,” he repeated, tasting the words slowly. “Well you certainly deserved it. You kicked ass.”

“Yeah,” I agreed. “I definitely got lucky.”

Devyn’s eyebrows knitted together as he shook his head. “Luck had nothing to do with it,” he disagreed. “Your concept was creative, and you were the one who took a chance on it. You were the one who risked everything on a single idea, and that idea panned out.”

Silently I contemplated his words. Shit, was he right? I’d always prided myself on being lucky, but now I wasn’t so sure.

“That’s not luck,” he went on. “Luck is being in the right place at the right time. Youcreatedthe right place. You created that moment in time.” He nudged me from across the table and smiled. “That’s skill, Juliana. It also looked like a shitload of fun.”

“Filming it was fun,” I agreed, “but the hard part came afterward.”

“Hard part?”

“Chasing down people to sign release forms. Editing a hundred and sixty hours of footage down to minute-and-a-half segment.”

“Ouch.”

“Yeah, nobody ever considers that part. My editors are the real unsung heroes.” I shrugged. “Still, I did the whole thing without permits. Without telling anybody.”

“That’s why all the reactions were so genuine,” Devyn pointed out.

“True,” I agreed. “But I could never pull something like that off now, as big as I am. The City would have my ass.”

Silence descended, and we both took the opportunity to sip our drinks. Devyn scanned me unabashedly, his lingering eyes betraying the fact he was probably still hung up on the words ‘my ass.’

“So I’ve been doing some thinking,” he said abruptly, “and I have a question for you.”

“Shoot.”

“How do I know it’s me that you actually want, and not someone else?”

I set down my drink. My expression quickly turned to one of pure astonishment.

“Are you kidding me?”

“No, I’m being serious,” he pressed. “I mean, this is a pretty big decision, don’t you think?”

“Yeah. So?”

“So what makes you wantmein particular?You could’ve moved on to any other number of similar donors.”

“But—”

“They told you my sample was unavailable, right? That it was destroyed?”

“Yes,” I replied. “And your point is?”