Bibb’s affectionate description of Ryan as an elevator person shimmered through Natalie’s mind like a xylophone playing in the chord of anxiety. She was starting to think that rules of the TV news game trumped things like news standards, and if you landed on the Win Genetic Lottery and Be Unhampered by Modesty (or Shame) spaces, you got a Become the Darling of Your Bosses card and advanced directly to Shot at High-Profile Career.

Matt looked up, saying, “Who’s the chummy mummy clinging to Ryan McGreavy?” He craned his neck around Natalie to get a better glimpse.

“What is a chummy mummy?”

“Older woman who would like to be more than ‘just friends’ with a younger man,” Matt recited. “It’s the update to ‘cougar,’ now with less sexism.”

Natalie frowned. “How is chummy mummy less sexist? At least cougar is a metonym.”

Matt frowned at her and hissed, “Metonym? That’s very Hot Nerd. It’s also the kind of talk that will get you fired.” He shook his head in disbelief at her carelessness, repeating, “Metonym,” under his breath.

Natalie wondered if talking to Matt made everyone want to research euthanasia or only her.

“Jesus, this place has the atmosphere of an embalming room,” Matt was going on. “I assume it’s always like this. Or is this special because of the bloodbath to come?”

Natalie glanced at her phone, praying for an interruption. Breaking news? A text from her mother? Maybe he’ll just stop talking. “What are you talking about?” Natalie said unwillingly.

Matt lowered his voice. “The words merger and revenue don’t occur in nature without the presence of layoffs,” he said. “Especially when the new boss has five mortgages, a hefty alimony payment, a pricey new wife, and three kids in private school.”

Now he had her interest. “How do you know all that?” she asked, impressed.

“I pulled his divorce filings,” Matt said. “Obviously.”

Natalie had read some things about the new boss, too. He had been with American Services Industries for fifteen years, where he’d grown profits at every division he’d run by at least ten percent. Now, according to the Wall Street Journal, the ASI honchos were testing to see if he did well with “content,” in which case he’d be queued up to replace the current CEO. She’d noticed that all the profiles also described the boss as a “family man.”

“I don’t know, I read that he’s turned over a new leaf. New wife, new life. He doesn’t believe in working weekends,” Natalie said, groping for the bright side. “Maybe he’s a good guy.”

“I bet anything you’re wrong,” Matt said, giving her a knowing look. “C’mon, he’s the Candy King.”

“Candy King?” Natalie asked, torn between the twin poles of her personality: curiosity and not wanting to engage with jerks.