“The Chief. I think he’s serious about giving me the 6 p.m. show. Not by myself, but, like with Ryan or something. He said I’ll—”

Suddenly the sounds around Natalie turned to a dull hum and all she could focus on was the feeling of her rising blood pressure and the stinging pain of injustice. Jazzmyn, who had likely never read a political piece longer than an Instagram caption, was poised to land a prime anchor slot, a post from which she’d shape coverage of pressing policy issues and conduct interviews with world leaders.

“So the Chief and I are getting dinner at his hotel after the party and I want to be ready to negotiate. Lean in, right?” She beamed proudly. “I’d love your advice on what I should get in the contract. I was thinking maybe they should guarantee one overseas reporting assignment and a sit-down with a world leader every six months? What do you think?”

Natalie flashed to an image of Chinese President Xi Jinping seated for an interview opposite Jazzmyn straddling a bench, back arched with her bra straps showing. Shaking away the image, Natalie reminded herself that Jazzmyn was coming to her for advice as the Older Wiser colleague. Be nice, help her.

She was about to offer some mild encouragement when the weight of Jazzmyn’s words hit her. “Wait, the Chief wants you to have dinner tonight, in his hotel?” she asked, getting a bad feeling.

“Yes,” replied Jazzmyn brightly. “So we can really hash it out.”

Just like he wanted to do with me in Miami.

“Jazzmyn. Are you sure you want to do that?” Natalie asked, recalling Dasha’s warnings of hotel room treachery. “Have you considered rescheduling for lunch tomorrow, just so you’re not alone with him at a hotel. You know?”

“Oh he’s not like that!” Jazzmyn said cheerfully. “I was with him for a whole day in Miami and he was a perfect gentleman. We spent tons of time alone and he talked about his wife and kids the whole time. He’s a family man.”

Natalie blinked, choosing her words carefully. “That might be true, but still, isn’t it smart to play it safe? Even just to avoid gossip. What if someone sees you with him at the hotel? You don’t want people to think—” She stopped before the words came out of her mouth.

Jazzmyn’s face flushed. “That I slept my way to the top?” Her cheerful tone had vanished and was replaced by an accusatory edge. “You think that’s how I do things? Because how could someone who looks like me get ahead any other way?”

Natalie, blanching, wanted to protest, but she stood there too startled to speak.

“Believe it or not, there’s no water at the bar.” James reappeared and touched Natalie’s arm. “They said we have to get it in the kitchen.”