The First Counsel

* * *

Rushing down the steps of the OEOB, I'm swimming against the steady stream of co-workers returning from lunch. Outside the gate, I bob and weave through the crowd, making my way to 17th Street. There's no time to wait for the Metro. "Taxi!" I shout as I throw an arm in the air. The first two cabs pass me by. I jump into the street waving. "Taxi!"

An emerald green cab honks his horn and stops dead in front of me. Just as I'm about to get in, I hear someone call my name.

"Michael?"

Looking up, I see a woman with stark black hair making her way toward me. I look at the ID around her neck. It's everyone's first instinct--scan the badge. I don't like what I see. Her ID's got a tan background. Press.

"You're Michael Garrick, aren't you?" she asks.

"And you are . . . ?"

"Inez Cotigliano," she says, extending a hand. "I contacted you by--"

"I got your message. And your e-mail."

"But you still haven't replied," she teases. "You're going to hurt my feelings."

"Don't take it personally. I've been busy."

"So I hear. Schedule said you had the briefing today. How'd it go?"

Typical reporter--nothing but questions. I decide to give her typical White House--nothing but nothing. "I don't mean to be rude, but you know the drill--call the Press Office."

I shut the door to the cab, and Inez leans in the window. Pressed against her chest is a clipboard and a file folder. The tab on the folder says "WAVES." She looks down to see what I'm staring at. Then she grins. "I meant what I said, Michael. We're still interested. And this way, you get to put out your side of the story."

I'm not that stupid. "If you want someone who gives good quote, you're betting on the wrong horse."

"Would it make it easier if there were some financial incentives involved?"

"Since when does the Post pay for stories?"

"They don't," she shoots back. "This is just between us--consider it my way of saying thank you."

"You don't get it, do you?" I ask, shaking my head. "Some things aren't for sale."

Laughing to herself, she throws me a wry smile. "Whatever you say," she replies as the cab begins to pull away from her. "Though I wouldn't be so sure of that."