later.
I call him a tease, but he proceeds to prove me wrong by doing everything he said he would.
“The best,” I reply.
“What happened then?”
I try to keep the hurt hidden because what happened then was why I’ve never told her about Navin. “Two days later, he dropped out of school and I never heard from him again."
Chapter Eleven
Him
GBNC Offices
New York
My last day in New York, everyone’s doing their best to stay away from me. Not that I can blame them, I’ve been in a foul mood ever since I was told I’d been reassigned to Washington DC or I wouldn’t be working at all. I’d hired an attorney to double check my contract, and George was right. I’m untouchable.
DC would be rotten enough on its own. It’s made even worse to be there because I’d been kicked from my lead anchor position to the Press Pool, where I’ll work locked away from the rest of the world for four years. And I wasn’t exaggerating, the offices are located in the basement of the White House. I thought briefly about quitting and going into a different field, but decided it’d make Rainer too happy.
It’s not only because I’m being an ass that my coworkers are wary of me. They all know I’m leaving and where I’m going. There’s no hiding it’s a demotion, and because of that, they don’t know what to say. It’s not like when someone’s moving on to bigger and better things or when they’re retiring. You can wish that person well and send them off with a slap on the back. What could anyone say to me?
Tomorrow morning, the White House will confirm publicly both that I’m joining the Press Pool and that Anna and I are acquaintances due to the eighteen months we spent together in law school. I’m not sure which is funnier, them calling us acquaintances or that I’m joining her Press Pool—following her around like a lost puppy, hoping for a soundbite.
I look up as Gabe walks into what will no longer be my office as of tomorrow, takes a quick look back into the hallway, and closes my door. Odd.
After learning about my soon-to-be exile to Washington DC from George, I had Gabe over to my place and I told him about law school, Anna, and the demotion over beers and pizza. He said he’d suspected something of the sort between the President and me, but understood why I’d never told anyone. He admitted he wouldn’t have said anything if he’d been in my shoes.
Now, he sits down in one of my visitor chairs and pulls it close to my desk. Leaning in toward me, he whispers, “I’ve heard something.”
Based on the way he’s acting, whatever it is, it isn’t mindless gossip. Plus, Gabe knows everyone. Not only does he rub elbows with society’s darlings, but he also has connections in the deep dark places the world at large pretends doesn’t exist.
“Okay,” I say.
“A reliable source of mine alluded to the fact that President Fitzpatrick has a mole on her staff.” He speaks this in a calm voice at odds with the magnitude of his words. My eyes bulge at that, but he shakes his head. “It doesn’t appear to be foreign or someone looking to take down the country. Whoever it is has been leaking information to the Press. Confidential information so still a problem.”
His words punch me in the gut. The betrayal will devastate Anna. “How reliable is your source?” I ask Gabe.
“She’s never been wrong.”
Shit.
At my silence, Gabe straightens up in his chair. “I’m telling you because you’ll be there in the middle of it all. In the White House. If anyone should be getting confidential information, it should be you. You know how Rainer will feel if another network breaks a story with you there…”
I see where he’s going. “And if I want Rainer to bring me back to New York…”
Gabe nods and speaks my thoughts, “Give him the biggest damn story of the decade.”
Chapter Twelve
Him
Washington DC/Air Force One
A week after my discussion with Gabe, I’m living in Washington DC. Though the information he gave me has made my situation not as horrible as it would have been without it, I’m still pissed about being here. A fact I don’t bother to hide from anyone. Not from the realtor who found a move-in-ready penthouse not too far from the White House and also on Pennsylvania Avenue. Not from the Secret Service agent who had me sign eight thousand