He held up a hand. “You don’t have to explain. My dad was a deputy secretary at the Pentagon. Forty years in the service. I understand when saying no to work isn’t an option.”

She stared at him. Who was this guy? A saint?

He reached past her to hang up the leash and she saw his biceps flex. No. Saints definitely did not have arms like those. She thought of the way he’d just kissed her and she wanted to make sure he understood she really didn’t want to go. “James, I—” She began.

The phone rang again, like an incantation. This is your chance. You’re on the elevator now.

She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and opened them again.

She had to get to work.

23

The Surrendered Reporter

“I know it tickles, honey, but sit still or the lash won’t go on right,” the nice woman painting wet glue onto the rim of Natalie’s eyelids told her.

“Sorry. It feels like my eyeball is on fire.”

“Try to think of something else. Think about how you’re becoming a star. You’re getting PFE,” the makeup lady said.

“PFE?” That was a new one.

“Pure effing exposure. Getting your face on TV as much as possible.”

The makeup lady blew on Natalie’s lid as she used tweezers to press the lashes into place, making Natalie’s lid start to go numb.

Numb is good, she thought. Numb means your eyeball doesn’t burn anymore.

At 8:46 a.m., even small victories were important.

“Savage in the house! Anchor chair, here we come,” Matt’s voice said, seeming even louder than usual.

She hadn’t expected him to be there. “What are you doing up so early?” Natalie asked, sneaking a glance out of one eye.

“Keep them closed,” the makeup lady barked. She went on, apparently addressing Matt, “Don’t you interrupt. She has to be on set in ten minutes.”

“I just want to congratulate my reporter on getting an anchor spot with McChesty,” Matt said, sounding unusually cheery. “And make sure she understands her role.”

“Meaning?” Natalie asked. Even with her eyes closed she could feel him standing too close.

“Meaning DO NOT let Ryan interrupt you. You need to get in there. Equal time. Think of this as a WWE matchup. You’re going for the smackdown. Bury him. Have no fear, show no mercy.”

“I left my Lycra unitard at home so I don’t think WWE is happe—”

Natalie felt a tap on her chin, an indication it was okay to open her eyes. She did and the mirror showed her lashes the size of small tarantulas. Natalie forced a smile at the makeup lady who beamed back and started looking through her kit of lip glosses.