Her phone rang again and this time phones all around the café started ringing at the same time. Glancing at hers, she saw that it wasn’t Matt but Bibb.

James gave her that lopsided smile again. “Sounds like the echo chamber is calling.”

Flashing him a look of apology, she answered it.

“Natalie, there is video of FLOTUS having an affair,” Bibb said, skipping the hello. “We need you on set, top of the hour.”

Natalie’s heart soared. An affair! Breaking news! And they want me in the middle of it.

Immediately, the only thing on her mind was the fastest way to get in front of a camera. This was, apparently, the single thought of more than half the customers in BrewHouse because people were now popping up from tables like pieces in Hungry Hungry Hippos, forming into inefficiently rushing crowds, reporters and politicos stabbing at their phones, ordering Lyfts while rushing the door. She checked her watch. 10:33 a.m., it was going to be tight.

Catching her eye, James indicated the mass of people. “Want to avoid the Great Wall of Chinos?”

“Yes!”

He waved at her to follow and started walking behind the coffee bar, through a doorway marked RESTROOMS, and into a narrow pathway.

“I’m here way too often,” he said, “and doorways are kind of my thing.”

He pointed to an emergency exit door in the back.

“Amazing!” she gushed.

“Wait.” He stopped her before she could go. “How do I find you? In case you need any help mapping something.”

He wants to find me! For a moment she was at a loss for words before saying, “I’m Natalie. Natalie Savage. But I don’t have cards on me.” It was true.

“Okay, I do,” he said, handing one to her.

“Got it! I really gotta go,” she said, apologetically as she stuffed the card into a pocket.

“Say it back!”

“James, I’m not going to forget,” she said, pushing open the door and calling back. “The formaldehyde hasn’t triggered brain damage yet.”

As the door closed behind her, she could have sworn she heard laughing.

13

The Best if not the Brightest

Matt met her by the ground floor elevators, looking like a nervous stage mom waiting for her toddler beauty queen.

“You’ve seen the tape?” he demanded.

Natalie walked past him into the elevator. “Can you be helpful and tell me which studio I’m in?”

“Studio A,” he said, scurrying in next to her. “We’ve got to make sure you own this story. It’s huge. Tell me you’ve seen the tape?”