own topics, writing about anything I want with the confidence that any publisher would buy it. But I don’t know when this book will be sold. And if my real goal is to set myself up to be able to grab whatever story I want, then credibility matters. Getting fired from Vivant because I stole their major headline would not bode well for my reputation. Before I can decide what, exactly, my plan is, my phone is ringing in my hand. Frankie Troupe. “Hello?” “Monique,” Frankie says, her voice somehow both solicitous and irritated. “What’s going on with Evelyn? Tell me everything.” I keep searching for ways in which Frankie, Evelyn, and I all leave this situation getting what we want. But I realize suddenly that the only thing I can control is that J get what J want. And why shouldn't I? Really. Why shouldn't it be me who comes out on top? “Frankie, hi, I’m sorry I haven’t been more available.” “That’s fine, that’s fine,” Frankie says. “As long as you’re getting good material.” “I am, but unfortunately, Evelyn is no longer interested in sharing the piece with Vivant.” The silence on Frankie’s end of the phone is deafening. And then it is punctuated with a flat, dead “What?” “I’ve been trying to convince her for days. That’s why I’ve been unable to get back to you. I’ve been explaining to her that she has to do this piece for Vivant.” “If she wasn’t interested, why did she call us?” “She wanted me,” I say. I do not follow this up with any sort of qualification. I do not say She wanted me and here is why or She wanted me and I’m so sorry about all this.