36. Maddie
Chapter thirty-six
Maddie
My cell phone buzzes, and it’s an unknown number.
I ignore it. If it’s not a spam call, it might be an angry fan.
Although at this point, I’m almost tempted to pick up and chew them out.
I miss Nick, even though it’s only been a week.
Honestly, every day does feel like it’s endless.
I’m just surviving, trying to get through the hours until I can return to my bed and sleep my heartache away.
Maybe it was the wrong decision. But Nick’s singles keep climbing the charts, and his songs are getting more and more playtime.
It saved his career, and that makes me happy.
The blinking cursor taunts me as I think about how to describe where to get the best hot chocolate after ice skating—another one of the thrilling articles Hayden has assigned me while I’m on probation. My office desk phone rings, and I pick it up.
An unknown voice says, “Will you hold for Twyla Jackson?”
“Yes!” I say, shocked.
After a moment, her well-known voice fills my ear. “Hi, Maddie.” She continues before I can speak. “I wanted to interview you—about the story you broke about the corruption at the Infrastructure Department.”
“You do?” I felt like I was box office poison. Yet, Twyla Jackson wants to interview me?
“You’re getting a raw deal,” Twyla says. “You broke a major story about corruption in city government, and you’re on probation? Because you signed a contract to date someone for three months, with mutual consent to any physical contact, and you fell in love? Ridiculous.”
When she puts it like that, it is ridiculous.
“How did you know I was on probation?” I ask.
“I’m a news reporter,” Twyla says. “Can you come on Spill the Tea tomorrow morning? Reading your article was like being immersed in a detective story. It was compelling writing. It will be fun to discuss.”
“Should I bring Tasha too?” I ask.
“I knew I liked you,” Twyla says. “I like the way you want to share the credit. Yes, please do.” A voice murmurs in the background.
“I have to go, but my staff will be in touch. And have fun telling The Intelligencer that you’re interviewing with me.
We’ll be sure to highlight that it was their story first. But that should make them think twice about keeping you on probationary status. ”
I wish Felicity were here, but she retired the week after I was put on probation.
She said she disagreed with the decision, and she’d been planning to retire anyway because of her health, but it was so much more satisfying to do so in protest of the probation decision.
She only regretted that it left me with Hayden.
She recommended I take a vacation until this blows over, but I refuse to waste my time off on this.
I ask the general counsel for permission, as per the paper’s policy on communications with the press, and he emails me back an enthusiastic yes. Tasha also responds to my text that she would love to be on the morning show with me—she can’t believe she will get to meet Twyla Jackson!
Hayden’s office is down the hall. I knock on his door, and he beckons me to enter but then proceeds to make me wait as he says he has to finish typing this email—and apparently another email.
“Yes?” he asks.
“Twyla Jackson invited me on her morning show tomorrow to discuss my investigation, so I’ll be out tomorrow.”
“Twyla Jackson? Spill the Tea with Twyla ?”
Twyla was right that it does feel good to see him look shocked. But then his eyes light up, and he gives me an assignment, due tomorrow. Something that would take me all night to research.
“I’m not going to be able to do that story,” I say.
“You’re not?” he asks.
The door opens, and Shane walks in. “Congratulations on the Twyla Jackson interview. She chewed me out about the probation, and she’s right. You’re off probation. You should go home so you’re ready for tomorrow. Hayden, you must be thrilled at the publicity.”
“Thrilled,” I repeat.
“Thrilled,” Hayden says with a grimace.
I pack my laptop back into my carryall bag, but as I exit the office through our revolving doors, I run into Pommer.
“Thank you for your in-depth reporting,” he says, stopping me in the street.
“I’m sorry I ever doubted your skills. Galliano and I could not figure it all out.
We knew there was some connection to the library from Ward’s miniature posts, and we finally tracked down Demoraux, who told us he’d met with you, but we couldn’t get him to reveal anything about Ward. ”
“What was in the envelope you gave Demoraux?”
“A written proposal that if he came clean about Ward’s activities, we’d work with any prosecutor to seek a reduced sentence,” Pommer says.
“But he was very certain that he could disappear. Talked about his ability to live off the grid when we first met. I guess he made some enemies in that small town that he went to, and that’s why they reported him to the police. ”
Demoraux had been arrested late last night, but I hadn’t had a chance to dig into the details yet.
He shakes my hand. “Thanks again. And thank you for those articles on the new playground design. We’re hoping that will help with additional funding.”
“I hope so.” My chest feels a bit lighter. My articles are making a difference.
As I let myself into my apartment, Sherlock winds himself about my legs as if I’ve been gone for days.
My phone beeps, but I’m too tired to look at it.
I know it’s not a story for me. I should go to sleep early because I have to wake up at four a.m. to be on the show with Twyla Jackson.
If it is Hayden giving me an assignment for another day, he can forget it.
My phone rings. The only one who calls me is my mom, so I pick it up.
“Is this Madeline Hughes?” a deep male voice asks.
“Yes,” I say hesitantly. What crazy person has gotten ahold of my number now?
“This is Tristan Saunder from The Carrier Pigeon .”
The managing editor of The Carrier Pigeon ? Nick’s friend?
“I’d like to offer you a job at The Carrier Pigeon .
As you may know, we’ve been a finance-focused paper with a Washington bureau focused on political decisions at the federal level, but we’re expanding our market in New York and planning to take on The Intelligencer and The Squirrel .
Given the story you broke, you’re the type of reporter we need. ”
Exactly . And then my imposter syndrome kicks in.
“Did Nick put you up to this?” I ask.
“No.” He laughs. “I’m not running a charity.
Nick didn’t even ask me for help with that YouTube star.
I interviewed that older couple on my own initiative to prove Nick wasn’t her boyfriend.
Nick has been suspiciously reluctant to introduce us, not that I’ve been in town much.
But hopefully you can come by my office tomorrow, and we can discuss the position.
I’m hoping you’ll accept. Nick did say he’d bet your network against mine any day, so I’m looking forward to meeting you. ”
We set a time to meet after the Twyla Jackson interview. A potential job at The Carrier Pigeon and an interview on network TV… I’m not going to be able to sleep tonight.
Tasha and I are sitting across from Twyla on the set of Spill the Tea with Twyla .
This is a total “pinch me” moment. Her skill at interviewing is really something to emulate.
I feel like I’m talking to a friend. Twyla wanted me to discuss it as I discovered each clue so viewers could feel the thrill of the investigation.
Tasha explains how she alerted me to the possible corruption when she found out I was a reporter. I explain each clue as we found it, and the audience gasps when Tasha and I re-enact with Twyla how I pickpocketed the envelope from Beatrice and the photo of the message flashes on the screen.
I also explain that we’ve since found out that Ward paid Demoraux to frame Galliano.
I’m still on a high after my interview with Twyla. When I leave the studio, people want my autograph. I’m not behind the scenes anymore. And I think I’m okay with that.
The Carrier Pigeon offices are close to The Intelligencer offices and right near City Hall.
As I walk into Tristan’s office, I do a double take.
He’s attractive—not as attractive as Nick, obviously, but he definitely commands the room.
I’d researched him to prepare for the interview, reading his most recent articles, but when I tried to find out anything personal, I had to wade through so many articles about who he was dating or not dating and how magnetic he was that I didn’t find much, other than he’s a good reporter himself.
I should have been prepared for his presence, but I didn’t expect the articles to be right.
“Please take a seat,” he says after I hand him my resume.
The office is modern and has an airy feel with the huge windows, but the minimalism and lack of any personal touches also make it feel as if this is a recent or even temporary arrangement.
He waves at some boxes in the corner. “Our main office is over by Wall Street. But if we want to cover City Hall, we also need an office here. We’re expanding to cover local politics now, as I mentioned.
I was impressed by your investigation and the story you wrote.
It was clear and persuasive. But I also need to have people I can absolutely trust.”
He thinks I’m trustworthy, even after all the report-liar signs?
“Here’s the position description. You would be responsible for building our team here as a senior reporter–city politics.” He explains that I will report to a well-respected reporter in Washington, D.C. for The Carrier Pigeon .
He must see the question in my eyes.
“She wants to move back to New York City for a few years.” He hands me a position description with a salary that is more than what I’d make even if I were promoted at The Intelligencer .