They're locking her out again. She can feel it. She saw Josh rush into Leo's office earlier, not his usual mad dash, more like a heat-seeking missile. Toby is crankier than ever, and Sam won't meet her eyes when he delivers the new polling language.
She knows why they do it, even agrees on some level. She doesn't want to lie to the press, and she doesn't want the press to think she's lying to them (though, of course, she does, and they do). But she's the freaking press secretary. It's her job to know what's going on in the west wing, in the oval, in the world.
She flings open the door to her office and shouts, "Carol!"
Carol pops up from her desk, folder in hand. "Here's a summary of the thing in Armenia." She frowns, brow furrowing in confusion. "Or Albania."
"Which is it?"
CJ skims through the information. "You mean Croatia."
"That's what I said." Carol doesn't even have the grace to look abashed.
CJ shakes her head and kicks the door closed behind her. She sits down and rests her forehead against the cool surface of her desk, forcing herself to relax. Days like these, she misses the three martini lunches of the eighties. She could use a drink. Since she knows she's not getting one any time soon, she takes a deep breath, sets her shoulders, and marches back out into the bullpen.
She's going to track down Toby, Josh, and Leo, and force them to tell her what's going on. That satisfaction will be more than enough to get her through the day.