The sound of a ringing phone jolted her awake. Bleary-eyed, she reached for her cell and, squinting against the morning sun, checked the caller ID. James.

“Oh god,” she moaned out loud.

She’d forgotten about James.

Remembering that he still had Cronkite, she briefly wondered if maybe she should just convince James to keep her dog. They’d be so happy together.

“Hi there, sorry I haven’t been in touch,” she answered, launching right in. “It’s been kind of a crazy twenty-four hours.”

“I can imagine. I saw the reports,” he said.

Great. She cringed. “I appreciate you keeping Cronkite overnight. When should I come get him?”

“I was thinking maybe we could all go for a walk. You, me, Colin Powell, Cronkite. Have you been on the Washington Mall since you’ve been here? It’s very relaxing.”

She blanched. She had to admit that she really liked him, but since she was moving back to New York, there was no point in getting attached.

“That’s such a great offer but I’m afraid I’m not in any shape to leave the apartment,” she said, glancing down at the orange flannel PJs she was still wearing.

“How about dinner?” James asked. “I bet you could use some friendly company. Tonight’s family night at the Hardings’. My folks are coming over. Bet you haven’t eaten a good meal all day.”

“Oh, James, I don’t know—”

She was interrupted by an aggressive buzzing.

“Maybe we...” She trailed off, distracted as the buzzing continued.

“Why don’t you think it over?” James said.

The buzz was coming from the wall and she remembered when she’d heard that sound before. Last week, the intercom. Was it possible that, after tanking her career, Hal thought he could worm his way into her place?

Indignant, she promised James she’d get back to him as soon as possible and marched to the intercom.

“Please go away,” she barked into the receiver.

“Well, someone’s been busy at charm school. C’mon, let me up.”

It was Matt, not Hal.

“I don’t want to see you,” she said, meaning it.

“I know who set us up,” Matt singsonged over the line. “It’s not who you think.”

Natalie considered this. She had no time for Matt and his sanctimonious I told you so’s. Publicly, she’d taken full responsibility for the mistake, but privately, they both knew that he’d pushed her to go live with one source. On the other hand, he had information she wanted. Relenting, she hit the buzzer.

“Jesus, this place is terrible,” he said as he sauntered in, his eyes darting from the breakfast bar to the sad cowboy as he sucked on the remains of a venti Starbucks something-or-other.

She studied her ex-producer with cold eyes. “Spare me your gloating. What do you know?”