“We never finished discussing the last press briefing.”
I can’t help it. I grimace.
Let’s not.
“You were very ill,” he says. “It affected your performance.”
I blink.
“And I’ve decided to give you another chance.”
I can only stare at him.
Is he being… reasonable?
He leans back in his chair. “I’ve arranged a meeting tomorrow morning with a reporter I trust. I want you to go and clean up your mess.”
Tomorrow morning?
My brain immediately starts calculating. I have to do research, memorize background information, write talking points, practice questions, and strategize. It’ll take all evening.
I’ll have to cancel my date.
“Well?” He looks at me expectantly.
Sorry, Josh.
“I won’t let you down, sir.”
SIX
“He’s not going to ask me that. Be serious, please. This is important.”
Annie sets down her notepad. “You don’t actually know that, though. You haven’t seen his questions. You need to be prepared for anything.”
I roll my eyes. “Yes, Mr. Journalist, the carpetsdomatch the drapes.” I throw a Skittle at her. “Are you happy now?”
“Very.”
She starts asking the questions I had written down for her. Every now and then, she throws in a question of her own, some serious, some incredibly inappropriate. I answer them all while pacing the room.
“You look insane. Take a break, come sit.”
I throw myself onto the couch. It’s almost midnight, and I’m exhausted. I glance at Annie, who tries to hide a yawn.
“I can’t believe I forced you to do this with me. You just came off a twelve-hour shift.”
She shakes her head. “I’m fine. I want to help you.”
We sit on the couch for a while, eating snacks and talking. I tell her about the new opportunities I’ve been given lately andhow excited I am about them. If I’m lucky, they might actually lead somewhere.
I’m tired of feeling like my time doesn’t belong to me. I want to make my own decisions instead of just carrying out orders.
Most of all, though, I want to make more money.
It’s an ugly thing to admit, but it’s the truth. I already make good money in my current position. I don’t have to scrape the last of my concealer out with an X-Acto knife anymore, or hover by the sale rack doing mental math before I let myself buy something.
I’m comfortable.