Pressure Read Online Free Page B

back around to face the bar, and coolly considered her half-empty glass. The reporter gave an audible huff, and paused, speechless. Carrie stifled a grin. She knew reporters, knew how they worked, and she wasn’t about to let one get over on her just because she was a little buzzed.
    The bartender eyed them both, and slowly began to approach.
    Jessamine stammered. “I … I’m sorry?”
    â€œNo, you’re not,” Carrie replied.
    â€œWe got off on the wrong foot. Maybe you don’t remember me? I’m—”
    â€œJessamine Wheatley, currently of CBS News. Yes, I remember you. It was nice not having you people looking over my shoulder for three days.”
    â€œI … I just…”
    â€œYou just want to finish your story. Is that it?”
    Before Jessamine could respond, the bartender interrupted them.
    â€œGet you folks anything?”
    â€œUm…” Jessamine frowned, clearly off balance by the turn of conversation. “A pitcher of Corona?”
    â€œWe only have beers brewed here in Mauritius. If you want an import, the closest thing I have is Guinness Foreign Extra Stout, and that’s not on tap.”
    â€œThey have a nice, fruity Phoenix Fresh Lemon,” Carrie suggested.
    The bartender smiled slyly at her and she winked.
    â€œYes, four of those, please,” Jessamine said. “No, wait. Hank won’t drink that. One Guinness and three of those … what did you call them?”
    â€œPhoenix Fresh Lemon,” Carrie and the bartender said in unison.
    As he left to fill their order, Carrie and Jessamine appraised each other. The cameraman let his eyes dart all over the restaurant, looking at everything but Carrie. He shifted from foot to foot, clearly uncomfortable.
    Carrie sipped her beer and said, “Don’t bullshit a bull-shitter. That’s what my father always used to say.”
    Jessamine held her posture. “Meaning?”
    â€œMeaning no offense, but get to the point. I’ve had a hell of a week and I’m not in the mood. What do you want?”
    Jessamine took a deep breath, and exhaled. Her shoulders sagged.
    â€œYou’re right,” she admitted, with a conciliatory tone. “I want to finish my story. Right now, you’re the only story here.”
    â€œHow did you find me?”
    â€œA spokesman for Alpinus Biofutures told everyone you were at the hospital in Port Louis. That made sense, since that’s where most of the flotilla has been docking. But we checked into it, and found out you were here in Chemin Grenier instead. After that, it was just a matter of waiting for you to be released. I take it your employers don’t know you left early?”
    â€œNot yet,” Carrie admitted. “But they’ll figure it out soon enough.”
    â€œAnd you’re fully recovered?”
    The Indian man began to raise his camera. Carrie noted that the power light was on.
    â€œIs this an interview?” she asked.
    Jessamine shrugged. “We’d like it to be, if you’re willing.”
    â€œThen be honest about it and quit dicking around.”
    â€œI thought I just was honest?”
    â€œI’m talking about the fact that your camera is recording this when I thought it was off.” Carrie turned to the cameraman. “What’s your name?”
    â€œK-khem … I’m Khem, ma’am.”
    â€œOkay, Khem. Do your job. Obviously, your partner here isn’t going to leave me alone until I give her a sound bite. Let’s get it over with.”
    â€œWonderful! Thank you so much, Carrie.” Jessamine smiled. “Would you care to join us at our table?”
    â€œNo, thanks. Right here is fine.”
    â€œActually,” Khem said, “the lighting in here isn’t all that great.”
    â€œI’m sure professionals such as yourselves will be able to make do,” Carrie said.
    â€œMaybe if you could stand over