Exclusive

“It was a WVUE exclusive.”

“How’d you swing it?”

“You know how it is. I made some calls. Cashed in a few favors.” He shrugged in a way that said dealing with the White House was no big deal. “You want another drink?”

“No, thanks. If I get drunk, I might agree to let you whip me in another round.” The man grinned.

Howie grinned back. He didn’t have any friends to speak of. Maybe he was making a friend. The thought of it made him practically giddy.

“I saw that interview with the First Lady,” the man remarked. “Very incisive. What was the reporter’s name?”

“Barrie Travis.” Howie told his new friend how he had come to hire her. “At the time, she couldn’t buy herself a job. I thought, what the fuck? Give her a chance, and win some points with the FCC in the bargain. And she’s pretty good-looking.”

His new friend chuckled. “If we’re forced to work with them, why not hire the pretty ones, right?”

Howie leered. His new friend talked his language. “You got that right, buddy.” He winked. “Barrie and me had a thing going for a while, but it got sticky, working with her and all, so I had to break it off. She was okay with it. Didn’t cause me any grief like some of them do. Turned out to be a pretty good little reporter. She hustles. May be a little too ambitious for her own good.”

“Really. How so?”

“Ah, you know. Because of the success of her series, which I actually produced, she’s got her head in the clouds and stars in her eyes. She’s driving me nuts about this hot story she’s on to.”

“Really?” His companion was no longer glancing at his wristwatch. He was leaning back comfortably in his chair, swirling the ice in his glass. “What’s the story?”

“Beats me. She won’t say.”

“Come on. Who am I going to tell?”

“I swear I don’t know. But she says if the story pans out the way she thinks, it’ll make Watergate look like Mickey Mouse.”

The man’s smile slipped a notch. “Then it must be hot.”

“Hot enough for her to take a few days off to do some research out of town.”

“Where?”

The man’s voice took on an edge that arrested Howie’s fist halfway between the bowl of peanuts on the table and his mouth. Sudden

ly he felt that maybe he was being indiscreet, that maybe he shouldn’t be blabbing so much about Barrie’s story. “She wouldn’t tell me.”

The man’s smile returned. “Not even a hint?”

“None.”

“Your girl’s full of secrets.”

“She’s a skirt. What can I say? Who can ever figure out a broad?” Howie reached for his beer to wash down the peanuts.

“Well, it’s late, and you’ve got to be at work early. Thanks for the drink.”

Howie scrambled up from his chair when his new friend rose. “I enjoyed it.”

“You should have, you son of a gun. You’re going home fifteen bucks richer.”

“Maybe we can do it again sometime,” Howie said, hoping he didn’t sound overeager. He didn’t want the guy to mistake him for a fag. “I’m here a coupla nights a week. Whenever I don’t have other plans. Just knocking back with the guys, you know.”

“Then I’ll probably see you around.” They shook hands.

Howie watched him go, envying and admiring the man’s confident air, and knowing, almost for certain, that he would never see him again.