"I was giving her a graduation present."

Scott leaned across the table. "Yeah? And what exactly was she giving you?" Jagged veins cut across the whites of his eyes. "I can't believe I'm running a Bartlet-era liberal who sleeps with hookers."

My brows flattened into a line. "I don't--"

"Don't even tell me you didn't, Sam. Because if I don't believe you, then neither will the Orange County Register." He snorted. "At least this one might shut up the guys who think you're gay."

A comeback burned into my tongue. I met Scott's eyes, glaring, and swallowed it down.

Ron Butterfield's face was grim. "He was shot through the window. He died instantly."

Shot. Died. "Is C.J.--"

"She's fine. She was right here when it happened."

My eyes flicked over to the corridor. C.J. leaned against the wall, shock still masking her grief. She wasn't fine. "Thank you," I murmured.

I closed my eyes. The marble theater arches were replaced by the sterile white of hospital walls, then by Josh trembling in a sweat-soaked bed. Nausea gripped my stomach.

Beside me, Leo reached for his cell phone. "Wait," I said, a hand on his arm. "I'll do that." "Fear, Itself" Ron Butterfield's face was grim. "He was shot through the window. He died instantly." Shot. Died. "Is C.J.--" "She's fine. She was right here when it happened." My eyes flicked over to the corridor. C.J. leaned against the wall, shock still masking her grief. She wasn't fine. "Thank you," I murmured. I closed my eyes. The marble theater arches were replaced by the sterile white of hospital walls, then by Josh trembling in a sweat-soaked bed. Nausea gripped my stomach. Beside me, Leo reached for his cell phone. "Wait," I said, a hand on his arm. "I'll do that."