Tea got up, gave me one last glare, and exited the office, slamming the door
on the way out. I sat there for a good fifteen seconds, and let out a treme
ndous whoop, and began spinning my desk chair around.
"It was," Carl agreed. "The point of all this is that now, rather than being
looked upon as someone who is cracking up, which is interesting and creates
press, you look like someone whose eye is on the ball and whose heart is in
the right place, which is boring and no one gives a damn about. The Biz, pr
operly, looks like a rag filled with poor reporting. And Ben Fleck looks to
have gotten his. Everything works out."
"What the hell is going on?" Van Doren asked.
"Stop squirming," Miranda said.
