Every muscle in my body held its breath. I’ d never been fired from a job before, but I’ d seen and done enough in my tenure here that I knew it could be brutal. The higher-ups were almost always escorted out immediately-I assume so they couldn’ t steal files or make disparaging phone calls. I hoped at least I’ d be granted a few weeks to get my résumé out there and, more important, continue drawing a paycheck. At my level, what harm could I do? Write a bad brochure? Dangle a participle?

‘ You’ re aware we’ ve received a letter from a lawyer representing a Mr. Armando Bomaritto.’

‘ I heard a rumor to that effect.’

‘ Care to tell me what happened last Thursday?’

Hmm. So he intended to draw blood slowly from the victim. I updated him on everything-from how I’ d planned the events, to the phone calls I’ d made to reporters, to the events of the day itself. ‘ It doesn’ t make sense,’  I admitted. ‘ I made sure everyone I talked to knew not to broadcast the locations.’

‘ No one spoke to reporters but you?’

‘ Just me.’

‘ Did anyone else have access to the list of reporters?’

‘ Lizbeth& she had me turn over a list of who I called at the end of every day.’  A thrill shot through me as soon as the words left my mouth. I’ ve watched plenty of detective shows in my day, and you don’ t have to be Perry Mason to figure out that what I said sounded incriminating. My mind whirled, trying to figure out a way to beef up Lizbeth’ s role. Oh, to look at Dr. Death, doe-eyed and demure, and say, ‘ I’ m sure Lizbeth wouldn’ t sabotage me, even though she was bitter and envious because Bigwood gave me the assignment, which, gosh, now that I say it out loud, sure sounds like quite the motive. But Dr. Death& may I call you Ivan?& do you really think she’ d do such a thing? Do you really believe she’ d call my reporter list and tell them to broadcast the secret locations?’  Tempting as it was, I simply said, ‘ She’ s my supervisor.’

I was going to be classy and leave it at that, but he pushed. ‘ Can you think of any reason your supervisor might follow up on your calls?’

There was no way to whine, ‘ She’ d do anything to screw me,’  without sounding as if I were the sort of person who’ d say such a thing. ‘ She wasn’ t happy with how things were going, if that’ s what you mean.’

His face told me he meant nothing. Dr. Death was a blank slate. ‘ Was there a contract with Mr. Bomaritto?’

‘ He and I had a verbal agreement. He’ d let us use the site. I’ d get him publicity.’  I left out the part about my promising to wear the red shirt.

‘ Hmm,’  he said.

‘ Is that bad?’

‘ Is what bad?’

‘ Not having a contract.’

‘ I’ m merely collecting information at this point, and this has been helpful.’  Dr. Death stood to leave. Relief rolled off me in waves. He hadn’ t yet pointed at me à la Donald Trump and barked, ‘ You’ re fired.’

‘ What happens now?’  I asked.

‘ We’ re preparing a response to Mr. Bomaritto, and Phyllis is at Costco buying snacks to replenish the gas station’ s supply.’

‘ Phyllis had to go-’

‘ We needed coffee,’  he said, waving me off.

‘ Plus they have those good sticky buns,’  I added, which I knew was stupid, but I was nervous. Exactly how close, I wanted to know, was the guillotine blade to my neck?

Although I couldn’ t bring myself to ask the question, he must have seen it oozing from my pores. He said, not unkindly, ‘ We intend to keep this out of the courts. I don’ t know yet what that will require. You’ ll hear from me.’

After he left, I checked my messages. There was one from Phyllis letting me know that she was headed to Costco and did I need anything?

Yes, I thought, a giant tray of sticky buns, a fork, and everybody the hell out of my way.

The other message was from Troy Jones. ‘ June,’  he said, and the rest wasn’ t easy to make out since he kept erupting into laughter. ‘ I gave your gas giveaway a plug, but I see you didn’ t need the extra help& hahahahaha& got the locations from dispatch and I flew overhead and& hahahahaha& it looked like you were starting a junkyard off the 101 freeway& hahahahaha& guess I was the only one who kept your location a secret& hahahahaha& ‘

Good thing he was enjoying himself, because I sure failed to see the humor.

TROY JONES AND I played phone tag all week. It’ s not easy to get hold of a guy who works in the middle of the sky in the morning and doesn’ t return calls all afternoon. And I forgave him for mocking me in his phone message because-as it would happen-I needed a favor. A big one. Troy Jones was now officially part of my plan to be the best gosh-darned employee L.A. Rideshare had ever seen. He was, in fact, my entire plan.

After daily messages back and forth, Troy finally reached me Thursday night at home. It was almost nine o’ clock when my phone rang.

‘ Isn’ t it past your bedtime?’  I asked him. After all, I was about to crawl into bed, and I’ m not the one who got up at three a.m.

‘ I catch up on my sleep in the afternoon.’

Mmm. I pictured him stretched out on his couch. Then I pictured him stretched out on his couch with his shirt off. Even better. I was about to insert myself into the scenario-deciding the on/off status of my own clothing-but I swatted down my hormones.

‘ Anyway,’  I proceeded, all business, ‘ you mentioned before that you’ d be willing to take me along on a traffic report.’

‘ Any time. You name it.’

‘ Well, yes, thanks. But I’ m wondering if I can ask a huge favor. You know how the gas giveaway kind of got out of hand-’

‘ There’ s an understatement,’  he interjected. ‘ They’ re still talking about it at work. A buddy of mine, Ryan, drove down& brought his daughter with him so he’ d be a carpool. He said it took him three hours to get out of the traffic mess, and nobody was getting any gas. I heard there were fistfights.’

‘ Only the one!’  I protested. ‘ The gas station manager broke it up. And speaking of the manager, he’ s suing.’

‘ You’ re kidding, for what?’

‘ Loss of income, pain and suffering. The usual. Since I was more or less in charge, I might get fired. So if you could take my boss up on the ride-along as well, she might cut me slack. Especially if she’ d have a chance to give a pitch for ridesharing on air. I don’ t know if you can do that, or-’

‘ You might get fired over this?’

‘ Quite possibly.’

‘ I had no idea.’  He groaned, ‘ I left you a message laughing.’

‘ Don’ t worry about it.’

‘ You must think I’ m such an ass.’

For a minute there, yes. ‘ Nah.’

‘ Well, the ride-along’ s no problem. There’ s plenty of room for two. I can’ t guarantee you’ ll get on air, though. I’ ll have to run it by the producer. Depends on how bad traffic is, whether or not there’ ll be time. I’ m usually more open on Fridays, so if that works for you& ‘

‘ Sure, Friday’ s perfect.’

We set up a ride-along for the following week. The helicopter he piloted was based at the Van Nuys Airport, a few miles from my parents’  house. ‘ I go up at five,’  he said, ‘ so if the two of you can be there at four-thirty, we’ ll have time to get you situated.’

‘ Four-thirty? As in the morning?’  I gulped. ‘ Hoo boy. Mind if I wear my jammies?’

‘ Wear whatever you want. It’ s radio.’  He paused and then said, ‘ What kind of pajamas?’

My mind flashed to my favorite pajamas. Flannel shorts and a T-shirt with little Snoopys on it. Sexy lady! ‘ I’ ll surprise you,’  I said.

‘ Sounds promising.’

He gave me directions to his hangar in the airport, and when I thanked him again, he said, ‘ Looking forward to it. By the way, you have any problem with heights?’

‘ Nope.’

‘ Speed?’

‘ Fine with it.’

‘ Flips, turns, nosedives, midair stunts?’

‘ How ‘ bout you drop me off before you get to that part? But don’ t rule it out entirely. I’ m sure my boss would love it.’

THE NEXT MORNING, I marched boldly into the office-head held high for the first time since the fiasco. As soon as I could tell Lizbeth about how Troy Jones would be working with us, she’ d sing a different tune about me. She’ d throw her body in front of Dr. Death to preserve my job. Granted, it was only the one ride-along, but there was no need to get into picky details.

Lizbeth was in a closed-door meeting all morning. I was editing my newsletter when I noticed Dr. Death hovering near my cubicle. My heart froze. No& not before I had a chance to spring my surprise on Lizbeth& he couldn’ t. That was the problem with these cubicles. No place to hide. If only I could& Oh, wait& he passed me by. I exhaled a breath. Close call.

When I felt the chill from the air recede, I peeked around the corner. I saw him stop to talk to Brie and then go into Lizbeth’ s office.

I escaped to the deli downstairs to get doughnuts and Diet Coke. There was no way I was going to risk an encounter with Dr. Death before I had a chance to talk to Lizbeth. By the time I checked back to see if he’ d left and if she was available, it was almost noon. Brie sat at her station, thumbing through an Ebony magazine.

‘ Can I see Lizbeth now?’

‘ She’ s gone.’

‘ Damn! I was hoping to catch her so I could-’

She lifted her head. ‘ You didn’ t hear? She’ s gone. Dr. Death fired her an hour ago. Escorted her out the door. He gave her enough time to pack up a couple boxes, and that was it.’

‘ Lizbeth was fired? Lizbeth was fired?’

‘ Tossed out on her skinny behind.’

‘ Why?’

‘ Beats me. Nobody knows. She didn’ t see it coming, I’ ll tell you that. I know she’ s white, but I never seen anybody that white. She looked like a ghost seeing a ghost.’