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magazine again to read aloud, “Who’s Purring Now?” She pauses to look down at me. “Hollywood
     hottie Trevor Campbell and veteran entertainment anchor Tiana Tomlinson continue their romance in the City of Love. With displays
     of affection like this, can the pitter-patter of little cubs be far behind?” She stops reading, looks at me. “Cute.”
    “It’s revolting and you know it.”
    “You have to appreciate how hard they’re trying to run with the cougar theme.”
    “No, I don’t.” I grimace, seriously nauseated by the piece. “Now do go away before I do fire you.”
    “You won’t fire me. I’m your Valium. I keep you sane.”
    “Uh, not right now.”
    Madison leans over my desk, plants the open pages in front of me. “You have to admit he is yummy. Look at him— ”
    “Madison.”
    “Everybody says he’s the next Brad Pitt.” She straightens, snatches back the magazine. “Oh, and what I came to say was that
     Glenn wants to see you.”
    I’m instantly on guard. I’ve already had one tense meeting with Glenn. I’m not ready for another. “Why?”
    Her thin shoulders shift. “Why do you think?”
    “Why don’t you just tell me?”
    “He wants to know why every magazine and show is running this story but us.”
    My phone buzzes and I pick up. Madison waves good-bye and I watch her leave, noticing she’s leaner than ever.
    When Madison first started interning at the station two years ago, she was your typical midwestern college grad: smart, honest,
     earnest, and hardworking. She also looked like a healthy, normal American twenty-one-year-old. After two years in L.A. her
     hair is blonder, straighter, and she’s lost probably twenty-five pounds. Five, ten pounds ago I complimented her on her transformation,
     but now she’s just skinny. Not good. L.A. already has too many bobble heads.
    The call is from Andrea, Glenn’s personal assistant. “Yes, Andrea?”
    “Glenn wants to know why you’re not already in his office,” Andrea announces cheerfully. “He said to tell you that no woman
     makes him wait the way you do.”
    “Tell him it’s good for him.” I take a deep breath, inject warmth into my voice. “And let him know I’m on the way.”
    I grab a bottle of water from the break room and head for Glenn’s office. His door is open, and he motions for me to sit down.
    “I want to run the story and photos, Tia,” Glenn says without further preliminaries. “He’s hot, you’re ours, and everyone
     else is talking about your trip. Why can’t we?”
    Good old Glenn. Tall, thin, with curly graying hair, he’s smart and tough and a great producer. But it’s not his life he’s
     wanting to put on the seven o’clock show.
    I cross one leg over the other. “Because it’d be like discussing your daughter’s sex life on TV, Glenn.” I smile sympathetically.
     “It’s just not right.”
    “Trevor’s not my daughter.”
    “And I know I’m not your daughter, but where are our ethics? Journalists aren’t supposed to make the news, they report the
     news.” I lean back in my chair, smile pleasantly. Glenn’s an old bat, but we’ve been through a lot in the past six years,
     not the least being his son’s suicide and his wife’s battle with ovarian cancer. Thank God he still has his girls. The twins
     are twenty and smart and loving, and they completely dote on Dad. “But I’m feeling generous, Glenn. We can make a deal. You
     keep Shelby off my show and I’ll agree to gush a bit about sexy import Trevor Campbell.”
    “Can’t make that deal, but I do want to run with some Paris romance on today’s show.”
    Clutching my bottle of water, I close my eyes, hold my breath, and tell myself I’m not a sellout. This is business. This is
     what I have to do to stay alive.
    And then I think about the show idea I’ve been working on these past few months in my free time. A show profiling extraordinary
     women, women with courage, strength, passion, and heart. Those