Page 9 of Personal Disaster

“Your fancy newspapers don’t have a budget for wining and dining reluctant subjects?”

It’s none of his business that I’m doing this freelance. “I doubt our readers would appreciate if theydid.”

“Fair point.” He pops the last bite of his sandwich into his mouth, then reaches for the cookies. “Would you likeone?”

“Did you bake them yourself?”

He shakes his head. “Made by pros at a bakery intown.”

I consider the offer carefully, and then lean forward—but he pulls the bag back. “Hey.”

“Tell me your story first.” He gives me a no-nonsense look that works.

I sigh. “Fine. I think you’ve seen the inside workings of capitalist, tech-worshiping America, and you don’t like it. You left that behind for something…purer. National service. And for the last eight years, you’ve done your part here. Working with those constructs of freedom and access for everyone. But now society has broken down to the point of chaos, so you’re going to use whatever platform you can to shine a light on the darkness that’s threatening…” I wave my hands. “This.”

“There’s just one problem with your theory.”

“What’sthat?”

“When have I ever shown any interest in shining a spotlight on anything?”

There was that. “Desperate times call for desperate measures.”

“Are we in desperate times, Poppy?” Now he’s playing with me again, but I don’t miss the edge in his voice.

I square my shoulders and nod. “Yes. Do you know what I did last week? I took a self-defense for front-line journalists workshop. Not just any old self-defense workshop—one specifically for front-line journalists. And it was sold out. They’re running the same workshop three times a week in Washington rightnow.”

His eyes glitter. “And still you come here in pursuit of a story.”

“Yes.”

He swears under his breath and picks up his phone. He looks at it long and hard, then swings his gaze back to me. “We can talk more over dinner.”

The dismissal is clear. I nod. “Thankyou.”

I stand up and tell him the name of the hotel where I’m staying in nearby Rifle.

His eyes are still hard as he nods. “I’ll meet you up there at seven.”

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