I was so sick of the exploitation. All that these media vultures wanted to do was to start rumors and feed off my misery. The idea made me queasy all over again, despite the anti-nausea medication.
I looked to Barnett.
“What should we do?” I whispered.
“I don’t think we have a choice,” he whispered back. “We’ll have to do it.”
“Why? Your reputation will survive this.”
“But yours might not.”
Barnett turned to Thaddeus.
“We’ll do it,” he said. “We’ll appear on your little show tomorrow.”
Thaddeus’s eyes fixed on me, as if to say, “Oh, will you?”
I nodded.
“Yes, we will.”
“Very well,” Thaddeus replied. “I will keep a hold of this picture until after the show, for insurance. You understand, right?”
Barnett breathed deeply through his nostrils, the muscles in his neck tig
