her his lady-killing grin with all the trimmings. “Or has your husband made up his mind and I ought to just give it up and go write the story I can write? Which, I have to be honest, is still a pretty darn good story.”
“I don't know if Joe's made up his mind or not,” she said slowly. “You'll have to ask him.”
“I'll do that,” Tobias said. “Sorry to take up so much of your time—”
“Oh, no, you're not,” she said quickly. “I wasn't trying to—I'm just going grocery shopping, nothing urgent, really,” she said and thought: oh, well done, very smooth; I thought Lucy was the teenager. “I just don't want to say anything about what Joe might be thinking and you print it and it turn out not to be true.”
“I'd never,” Tobias said. “Can't do that—and not because I'm such a nice honest guy. If word got around that I was pestering people's wives into making statements,” he said and thought she frowned ever so slightly at the word 'wives,' “no one would ever talk to me again.”
“I'm sure lots of people would talk to you,” she said. “Do you want me to tell Joe you stopped by or are you going to try to catch up with him at the office, later on?”
“I probably shouldn't bug him when he's up to his ears in email,” Tobias said, looking at nothing for a moment, which wasn't easy while standing in front of Mrs. Parnell. “The thing is,” he said, stepping closer and lowering his voice, “this is such an important story. So much is riding on any story dealing with WMD; what with the Administration looking very determined to have a war. Not that the cable and radio news seem to see it that way,” he said and rolled his eyes impatiently. “But you know what I mean: it's so important, I don't want to mess it up.”
“I know what you mean,” she said slowly.
“Do you?” he asked gently.
“Of course,” she said. “No serious person takes war lightly.”
“Maybe I'm way out of line to ask you this, Sally,” he said and she felt a thrill run from her thighs to her throat, “but maybe you could kind of bring it up with him? I'm not saying make him go on the record: just nudge him a little,” he said and grinned. She has grey eyes, he thought, how often do you see that? “Keep it on his mind, you know? After the way he stood up to Saddam at the US Embassy during the Gulf War, I know he's a man who has the strength to do the right thing, but maybe keeping things fresh in his mind wouldn't hurt?”
“I'm sure it's been on his mind,” she said. “But I'll bring it up to him. I guess life runs at a pretty fast pace for newsmen.”
“Ha, during working hours anyway,” he said. Don't you dare say something about when you're not working and then ask her to have a drink, he scolded himself. What the hell is the matter with you? She waited. “Speaking of which, I better get back to it.”
“Of course, don't let me keep you,” she said, thinking: he was sticking around for me, wasn't he?
“I wish you would,” he said and then thought: fuck, fuck, fuck! “On a day like today,” he added quickly, stepping backward and gesturing skyward, “the last thing I want is to sit inside all day—but I think my editors may just insist. Thanks for talking to me,” he said, stepping just close enough to shake hands. Hers didn't tremble, but did it linger?
A little sweaty-palmed there, fella, she thought: was he nervous? She smiled brightly and said, “It was a pleasure meeting you. Drop by any time.”
“Thank you,” he said and beat a hasty retreat before any more foul ups.
As he drove back, Tobias talked to himself (a habit of the solitary). “Well done,” he growled. “Why don't you pick up the wives of all your sources? Maybe sire a few kids on her: I'm sure Joe would like a son.” Tobias drove on, avoiding the main roads, taking his time. “It could have been worse, but you almost lost it at the
“I don't know if Joe's made up his mind or not,” she said slowly. “You'll have to ask him.”
“I'll do that,” Tobias said. “Sorry to take up so much of your time—”
“Oh, no, you're not,” she said quickly. “I wasn't trying to—I'm just going grocery shopping, nothing urgent, really,” she said and thought: oh, well done, very smooth; I thought Lucy was the teenager. “I just don't want to say anything about what Joe might be thinking and you print it and it turn out not to be true.”
“I'd never,” Tobias said. “Can't do that—and not because I'm such a nice honest guy. If word got around that I was pestering people's wives into making statements,” he said and thought she frowned ever so slightly at the word 'wives,' “no one would ever talk to me again.”
“I'm sure lots of people would talk to you,” she said. “Do you want me to tell Joe you stopped by or are you going to try to catch up with him at the office, later on?”
“I probably shouldn't bug him when he's up to his ears in email,” Tobias said, looking at nothing for a moment, which wasn't easy while standing in front of Mrs. Parnell. “The thing is,” he said, stepping closer and lowering his voice, “this is such an important story. So much is riding on any story dealing with WMD; what with the Administration looking very determined to have a war. Not that the cable and radio news seem to see it that way,” he said and rolled his eyes impatiently. “But you know what I mean: it's so important, I don't want to mess it up.”
“I know what you mean,” she said slowly.
“Do you?” he asked gently.
“Of course,” she said. “No serious person takes war lightly.”
“Maybe I'm way out of line to ask you this, Sally,” he said and she felt a thrill run from her thighs to her throat, “but maybe you could kind of bring it up with him? I'm not saying make him go on the record: just nudge him a little,” he said and grinned. She has grey eyes, he thought, how often do you see that? “Keep it on his mind, you know? After the way he stood up to Saddam at the US Embassy during the Gulf War, I know he's a man who has the strength to do the right thing, but maybe keeping things fresh in his mind wouldn't hurt?”
“I'm sure it's been on his mind,” she said. “But I'll bring it up to him. I guess life runs at a pretty fast pace for newsmen.”
“Ha, during working hours anyway,” he said. Don't you dare say something about when you're not working and then ask her to have a drink, he scolded himself. What the hell is the matter with you? She waited. “Speaking of which, I better get back to it.”
“Of course, don't let me keep you,” she said, thinking: he was sticking around for me, wasn't he?
“I wish you would,” he said and then thought: fuck, fuck, fuck! “On a day like today,” he added quickly, stepping backward and gesturing skyward, “the last thing I want is to sit inside all day—but I think my editors may just insist. Thanks for talking to me,” he said, stepping just close enough to shake hands. Hers didn't tremble, but did it linger?
A little sweaty-palmed there, fella, she thought: was he nervous? She smiled brightly and said, “It was a pleasure meeting you. Drop by any time.”
“Thank you,” he said and beat a hasty retreat before any more foul ups.
As he drove back, Tobias talked to himself (a habit of the solitary). “Well done,” he growled. “Why don't you pick up the wives of all your sources? Maybe sire a few kids on her: I'm sure Joe would like a son.” Tobias drove on, avoiding the main roads, taking his time. “It could have been worse, but you almost lost it at the
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