She wanted to cry and scream “it’s not fair” like a five-year-old having a meltdown. It was an inviolate rule of reporting that if you got a scoop, you got the credit. That was how you made your name as a reporter. If they were going to give your reporting away, what was the motivation to skip Thanksgiving or Christmas or your father’s fucking last month alive? And what reporter would take someone else’s scoop?

Someone who would put anything in his mouth, Natalie told herself.

When the phone rang, she realized she was in tears. She composed herself and heard Bibb’s voice in her ear.

“I heard you are upset,” Bibb launched right in. Apparently she hadn’t done as good a job of sounding composed and casual when talking to New York as she’d thought. “This is not a beauty pageant, it’s a team sport. What matters here is that we—our team—got the information on air before anyone else. That is a home run for us. And I’ll be sure the right people know your contribution. ATN owns the mole. Thanks to you.”

She wanted to scream at Bibb and Hal and all the What Girls and especially Ryan. But, exhausted, she’d just hung up.

The door opened and Matt sauntered in. “That went well. Still happy to have Hal and Bibb in your corner?”

For a moment she looked at him silhouetted in the light from the hallway and let the basics of the situation really sink in. Characters. Narrative. It was all so ludicrous.

She unplugged the microphone and stood up from the desk. “You must be happy,” she said.

He shook his head. “No. That went the way I predicted, not the way I wanted. There’s a difference.” He held the door for her and then followed her out of the studio.

Dasha was waiting in the hallway, arms crossed. “I do not like this Greasy. He is cheating.”

“It is what it is,” Matt said. “It’s up to us to be better.”

“Oh this is my fault? What’s my problem now, I was too thorough? I shouldn’t try to be a good reporter?” Natalie knew she sounded bitter but she couldn’t help it.

“You’re missing the point, again,” Matt said, irritation replacing smugness in his voice. “I know you’re not stupid so you must be in denial. Let me spell it out. It’s not about the reporting. It’s about TV.” He fixed her with a steady gaze. “It’s about looking and sounding the part.”

She started walking down the hallway, Matt and Dasha scurrying behind. Things had to change, but how could she compete with Ryan? He wasn’t even a reporter. He was like a news actor playing...a part.

And like a sea wall giving way under the thrashing of a storm, awareness came crashing into her exhausted mind: Matt was right.