I mutter to myself after overhearing two secretaries talking by the copy machine. I’ve had enough of reporters to last me a lifetime, especially after last week. Not that Ellen was interviewing me or anything like that. What she did was worse and I don’t care if I ever meet another reporter again and hope the hell I don’t. What the hell is Baxter thinking by allowing a reporter onto their grounds? They’ll bring a world of hurt to everyone if they’re allowed to waltz around the place asking questions and then blast what they knows to the rest of the world. Hopefully they won’t get any further than the reception room. I grab the papers from my mail slot and duck out a back door, the way I came in. I’ve tried not to think about Ellen since Friday, but that’s impossible. I half expected her to show up sometime this past weekend, but she never did. She rented the apartment upstairs, is she just going to let it sit now? It’d be best if she never came back. Maybe I should offer to pack up her stuff and ship it to Paige’s apartment, then I won’t have to see her again.
