The very next day, Anne received her next assignment.

Fluff piece number two, Anne thought. She made the calls to round up her crew and told them to meet her at the Studio Theater downtown. Patty showed up first. The rest followed shortly. Anne didn’t know the first thing about interpretive dance, but with her crew around her, she was ready for anything.

Everything about the room was black. Everything, that is, except the pink, yellow and white scarves hanging from the rafters and the three women whirling in the center—The Elementalists in the flesh. They spun to a backdrop of whistling flutes, pounding drums and their inspired troupe leader, Michael Pur.

“Unbridled! The theme of the piece is ‘unbridled!’ Unbridled passion, unbridled love! Use it! That’s it!”

The dancers punctuate their movements with animalistic shouts: “Aaa-AH!” “Hoo!” and “Hah!” Stifling a giggle, Anne stepped forward to start her piece. After a few questions, she could see that the dancers, Starbender, Sprite, and Judy and their effervescent leader took their task very seriously. Ever the professional, she set out to create a piece that would do them justice.

And that was a wrap.

Outside, they bumped into Skye, a local reporter who could almost be called a rival—if she’d ever managed to show up to the scene before Anne and her crew.

“Hi Anne!” she greeted, just as her DayRunner exploded all over the floor in a clumsy heap. “I’m here to cover the interpretive dance piece!”

“You’re one step behind us,” Anne explained politely.

“Oh that’s okay,” replied Skye, ever optimistic. “I’ll just go ahead and see if I can get anything.”

“Go ahead, you might enjoy it,” Anne replied with a hint of mischief.

Turning with purpose to enter the building, Skye pulled firmly on the door handles, only to find the doors tightly locked.

Anne and her close-knit crew exchanged amused looks and walked away.

“She’d make a great interpretive dancer,” Anne quipped.

Anne waved goodbye to her crew and climbed into the Jeep. Then her cell phone rang. It was her cousin, Eddie, still in jail after the public disturbance he created at the Florida Film Festival.

Before she even hung up the phone, Anne was speeding down I-4 on the way to the Torrie’s Bail Bonds. After all, Eddie was family. She couldn’t get there fast enough.

Torrie’s Bail Bonds was in a two-story brick building on the corner of Conley Street and Orange Blossom Trail. Outside, colored stickers on the windows screamed “BAIL BONDS.” Inside, the people did the screaming. Anne walked in as a blonde in jean shorts and white belly-baring tank top gave the entire one-room office a vulgar earful. In the corner, a tiny blonde secretary in an even tinier tiny teal skirt, listened helplessly. The livid client left, only to be replaced seconds later by a bounty hunter who burst through the door, with a struggling bail jumper in custody.

Nothing to do but stay calm and stay out of the way, thought Anne. She just wanted to get in and out as fast as possible.

Twenty minutes and one $1000 check later, she arrived at the Winter Park Holding Facility. The desk officer took her paperwork and examined it closely. Then examined her closely. Then the documentation again.

Out of the cold institutional halls, and into the balmy Florida night, she turned to Eddie. “So what happened?” But Eddie was too frazzled to explain for most of the ride home, so as she drove, Anne shared the latest on her mother, her reporting, and a bit about her crew.

All was dark on Sligh Street, except one small doorway of light beaming out of the studio warehouse. For the time being, a musician friend of Eddie’s was letting him stay in a side room at Sligh Studios downtown. As they crunched up the dirt path, they could hear loud guitar blaring out the doorway.

Keith Wilson greeted them in the hall. Amused by his slick handshake, Anne giggled and thanked him for taking such good care of Eddie, then Keith led them to Eddie’s “room.”

Finally, a calmer Eddie was able to explain.

It was all about Florida Springs.

The latest project planned by Rosetta Corporation, Florida Springs was going to be a “destination nature preserve” that captured the best of Florida’s natural environment and eliminated the worst. Allergen filters would keep the air clean for all to enjoy. Natural repellants would keep the bugs at bay. The entire preserve would be eco-friendly and beneficial for the entire community.

“It’s a great idea,” stressed Eddie. There was just one missing piece. Communication.

“Jack Ingrassia. He’s the President of Rosetta Corp., and he has to pitch Florida Springs to the Central Florida Rural Planning Commission. He just doesn’t want people to voice their opinions about it. I was just trying to get the word out. Because people should talk, you know? It’s important for everyone to have a voice and listen to each other. I just couldn’t get the Festival people to listen to me.”

Eddie paused for a moment.

“Not like you. You could always get people to listen. You always have.”

Slowly, Eddie’s words were sinking in. He just wanted people to be heard, and that was Anne's specialty.

Here was a real story.

They agreed to meet the next evening before Eddie’s trial. In the meantime, it was up to Anne to make this story happen.