Without missing a beat, Laura McIntyre began grilling Ginny in a high-pitched, overly-enthused voice.

“What are you doing here?”

Ginny paused. She wasn’t quite sure, honestly. “Well…” Pause for station identification. “I’m a staffwriter at the Washington Post.” There. Trying to hedge the question.

“Are you, now?” An eyebrow raised.

“Yes.”

“I meant at this bar, darling. Not,” Laura flipped her hair back over her shoulder with a graceful swoop of her hand. “In D.C.”

Dammit, she was cornering her. Trying to feign innocence, Ginny responded carefully. “Oh,” she exuded a purposefully dumb giggle. “I thought you meant…Well, nevermind. Here? I’m here for dinner.”

“With whom?” Another arched brow.

“It’s none of your business, you nosy bitch.” Ginny wanted so badly to respond. Alas, she held her tongue. “With…a friend. Who, actually, I am expecting shortly.” The cue to leave.

She took the hint. “That’s nice. Have a nice time, Ginny, darling! Nice seeing you!” A halfhearted wave and Laura was gone.