Sarah Richard had shoulder length blonde hair, framing a face more suited to a model than a retired journalist and current PR manager. Her voice had a calming effect on me and on everyone within earshot. She seemed to always have it together no matter what the situation. Not like me. I pee my pants every time old Jenkins says my name. I hope someday to be like her. She’s 46 but looks no older than her 30s. She’s so fit. No bulges except where they are supposed to be. She’s elegant and graceful too.

Jenkins jolted me back to reality.

“Who the hell are you dealing with at that rag of a newspaper anyway?” Before I could answer, he reminded me that he started this PR company, and it’s his name on the door and his ass on the line with Barton. I’ve heard that familiar refrain too many times to count. Funny how he yells at me and I’m on the hot seat. His ass is nowhere in sight.

“Doesn’t matter which one of those vultures is writing this gibberish, they are all a bunch of hacks anyway.”

I pushed my chestnut brown hair from my eyes and acted as if I were reading the article for the first time. Sarah’s right, what did he expect the newspaper to write? New Orleans gets its drinking water from the Mississippi River. Now, a barge was leaking crude oil in it, and people had the right to know. I could never bring myself to drink New Orleans tap water knowing it came from the river. Everything I drink is bottled: water, bourbon or beer. And then there’s the fact that Bayou Oil is not the media’s darling. It has a long history of reckless behavior. The only reason its owner, Dan Broussard, isn’t in jail is that he’s rich and politically connected. Politically connected in New Orleans, Louisiana is everything. It’s not what you know; it’s who you know in this city. No sooner did I have these thoughts than Jenkins spoke them.

“Goddammit! If Edwin was still governor, we’d be able to make one call and get this all straightened out. Best governor we’ve had since Huey Long. Those meddling Fed sonsabitches put him in jail over nothing. He always gave the people more than he took,” Jenkins screamed, looking across Poydras Street more or less in the direction of the Federal Courthouse.

Edwin Edwards, former governor of Louisiana. The people admired him for his polished good looks, Cajun charm, quick wit, and glib tongue. He’s the stuff that myths are made from.