“It’s not addictive. It’ll just turn down the volume in your head,” Matt said, sounding a lot like the high school campus drug dealer.

Lacking the life force to fight Matt, she stuck out her hand, watched as he placed two pills on her palm, and stuffed them into a pocket. “Okay, I’m going to my room,” she said and with some effort, hopped down off the barstool. “Then I’m going to dinner with the Chief. Wish me luck.”

18

Natalie in Wonderland

Natalie was under the monkey fever comforter in her own room at the Hampton Inn trying to breathe through the nauseated feeling rolling through her. Her body was cold and her head felt compacted, like she’d just drunk an entire Slurpee in one go. Shivering, she pulled up the cover and reread the email that was open on her iPhone.

It was from the Chief’s assistant, letting her know that the network was sending a black car to pick her up at 8 p.m. No word on her destination. No mention of a return car at the end of the night. She reminded herself of all the articles she’d read calling the Chief a family man, dedicated to his new wife and kids. It was borderline egotistical to think he’d try anything tonight.

Pressing her eyes shut, she tried to make her mind go blank but it was a losing battle. Twelve points, her mind screamed. That was the real problem. She was trailing Ryan by twelve points. Yesterday, after the on-set debate about the sexless sex tape, she’d been only four points behind. Now, after a killer story that involved an actual shooting live on air, Ryan had more than doubled his lead. Cancelling dinner with the Chief wasn’t an option.

Her phone rang and she glanced at the screen which may as well have been screaming the word MOM. She willed the phone to stop but it turned a deaf ear and hummed right along. As she watched the voice mail arrive, Natalie waited for the flood of texts.

MOM: I heard you were involved in a shooting. Are you alive?

MOM: I’m very worried. Don’t ignore me.

With a slow exhale, she started typing.

NATALIE: Hi, Mom. I’ve passed away and I’m texting from the great beyond. It’s okay, though, I’m happy here.

MOM: Don’t be glib about this. I don’t know what I would do if you died a week before the wedding.

Pulse flaring, Natalie imagined her mother’s outrage if she were forced to postpone her honeymoon for something as inconvenient as her child’s funeral.

Don’t take your mother’s bait, said her dad’s voice in her head.