Bibb hung up, closed her eyes, and sighed. “I bought us a few days anyway. Managing people is so draining.” She rubbed her temples and looked back and forth between Hal and Natalie. “Andrea’s been working with Ryan all week. Who does she think will write his live shots for him if she leaves?”

“She’s probably just emotional, not thinking clearly,” Hal said as if the problem was that Andrea’s father was dying. Or that Andrea cared that her father was dying.

“Can’t Ryan handle his own live shots?” Natalie asked, unable to bite back the words. It was one thing to have a producer show him the way, but if the guy couldn’t speak without someone dictating every word, maybe he was in the wrong line of work?

“Have you met Ryan McGreavy?” Bibb asked.

“I only know him by reputation. And his, ah, Eat Me investigation,” Natalie said judiciously.

“If you know him, you’ll understand,” Bibb told her. “Ryan is a work in progress. He is teeming, bursting with potential. But he needs a little—I was going to say grooming but that’s the wrong word in his case.” To Natalie’s horror, Bibb tittered.

Hal joined her. “Ryan has great hair.”

“For someone like Ryan, we’re happy to hire producers to write their scripts and conduct their research. Do all the hustly-bustly stuff,” Bibb said. “And it works very well, as long as they stick to their lines as written.”

I suppose for a guy who’s eaten pig sac, putting other people’s words in his mouth must feel like child’s play. “So you’re saying Ryan is an elevator person,” Natalie stated more than asked.

“Exactly,” Bibb said with pride, like a teacher whose slowest pupil finally learned to read. “I’m glad you understand, because we feel Ryan could make a wonderful reporter at the White House.”

For a moment Natalie stopped breathing, as her mind raced. Ryan. It was true. They were grooming I-Eat-Balls McGreavy for the White House job. Her White House job.

“Surely you’re not surprised. Ryan has politics in his blood,” Bibb went on. “You understand your assignment is only temporary.” She smiled. “Of course none of this is set in stone. The Chief is in town tomorrow. He’s holding an impromptu town hall, to reassure staff about his plans for the network. You should be ready to wow him. At the very least, I’d suggest getting a blowout.”

This time, Natalie understood, she was being dismissed. Absently, she promised to blow out her hair, thanked Bibb, and in a daze she stood and headed for the door, all the while hearing the words Ryan McGreavy, White House correspondent echo in her head.