Free Eyes on You by Kate White

began flicking it back and forth. There was still that edge in his tone, as if he had an ax to grind.
    I smiled, trying to lighten the mood. “I could also start watching her damn show, but please don’t make me do that.”
    “Did you let Dave in on what happened?”
    “Dave?” I said.
    “Yeah, Dave Potts, our president. What other Dave is there?”
    “Of course not,” I said, flabbergasted that he’d think that. “Why would I want to ratchet things up? More important, Tom, I’d never go around you.”
    “Well, he seems to know all about it.”
    “It wasn’t from me. I hope you know me better than that.”
    He dropped the pencil. “Okay,” he said. “Never mind.”
    But as I sat later in hair and makeup, I was still stewing about it. Had Carter told Potts about Vicky’s tirade? Of course not. He wouldn’t want to escalate the matter, either. And then it hit me —Vicky was probably the tattletale.
    How absolutely juvenile, I thought, to run to Potts over such a minor issue.
    Back in my office, I closed the door and let my eyes fall shut, fatigued by this latest political bullshit. On-set, I sometimes drank coffee from a mug with my name on it, and as I hurried into the newsroom, I asked one of the production assistants to make it black for me tonight.
    “Ready to rock and roll?” Carter asked, smiling as I slid into my seat. Good. All back to normal.
    He started the up-front section by mentioning some of the tweets and emails we’d received since last night’s show. “We hit a nerve with two stories in particular,” he said. “Pets on planes—and cheating politicians.”
    “Ahh,” I said. “So both our dog segments were winners.”
    “I saw that coming,” Carter said, laughing.
    As he started to read through some of the other tweets, I took a swig of coffee from the mug that had been left for me. The instant the liquid filled my mouth, I sensed something else in there—something brittle and crunchy. I felt like I was going to gag.
    Instinctively, I swiveled to the right and lowered my head. I spat everything into my hand, letting the coffee run through my fingers. And then I saw what I’d almost swallowed. A huge cockroach was sitting in the middle of my hand.

chapter 7
    I fought the urge to retch. I flicked the bug hard from my hand and brought my other hand to my mouth, pressing tight.
    “Stay on Carter,” a voice commanded in my earpiece. Then: “Jesus, what’s going on?”
    Carter continued to talk, though I could barely focus on what he was saying. I shot a desperate glance at him and raised my index finger, trying to signal that I needed more time. Then I tore off a piece of paper from my notes and dabbed frantically at my mouth. I took another breath, filling my lungs with air. I nodded then to show Carter and the director I was all right.
    “I see I’ve rendered Robin speechless with my ramblings,” Carter said, smiling. “Let’s take a break, and then we’ll be back to talk about raising rich kids. Don’t knock them. As we’ll see, it’s not always easy being a billionaire’s baby.”
    As soon as we cut away, Carter immediately reached out and touched my arm. “You okay?” he asked.
    I shook my head in disbelief. “There was a stupid cockroach in my coffee,” I said. “Not a small one, either. One of those huge water bugs.”
    “You’re kidding,” Carter said.
    Three seconds later, Tom and one of the production assistants came stampeding onto the set, along with Stacy, the makeup artist. Carter related what had happened.
    “A water bug?” the PA said. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen one on this floor.”
    “Well, one showed up here tonight,” I said. I glanced down, and there it was—or at least half of it—lying limp on the floor, just to the right of my chair.
    “Jeez,” the PA said, following where my eyes had gone. “At least it was dead.” He tore a handkerchief out of his jeans pocket and scooped up the bug.
    “Where did this coffee come