Epilogue
The chief curled a finger at me from his doorway. Hunter, peeling the stickers off my stapler, sent me a wink. The kind of wink that said Go get ’em, tiger, the kind that had every bit of confidence in me.
Confidence I’d lost somewhere in the twenty-eighth ranking of the BCA competition.
Chewing enthusiastically on a mint she’d pinched from my drawer, Hannah grabbed her issue of the Post-Gazette and dumped it in front of me with a smile. “You’ll do fine, Liam. This article makes you look really good. Chief won’t be able to argue with that.”
I clapped my eyes on the folded page. Strange how two columns should sum up the events of the night before, when those few moments felt like a lifetime.
It was woefully inadequate.
I pushed my chair back—
Ompf!
Twisting, I came face-to-face with Jill, who sidestepped around my chair. He stood as if his ass was itching and he couldn’t reach the spot. His arms folded and refolded; his gaze met mine defiantly and, with the twitch of his jaw, softened from burning charcoal to mere charcoal.
Across the room, the chief had ducked back into his office. “Make it quick,” I said to him, “I’ve got a meeting with Chief Benedict.”
Jill jerked his head to the side, his bangs sweeping out of his eyes.
His gaze slipped to Hunter, and a light blush spread over his cheeks.
He looked away again. “I just . . .” He pulled out a rolled-up Scribe from his back pocket and it landed on top of the Post-Gazette.
He cleared his throat. “The last few party page columns . . .” He shrugged, again glancing toward Hunter. “They could’ve been worse, is all.”
Hunter placed my newly-naked stapler on my desk and I straightened it next to my inbox trays. “Pain in the ass you are, Jill,” I said, “but chief was right to put you in editing. You don’t do a half-bad job.”
The barest edges of a grin touched his lips, but quickly disappeared behind a grunted, “Thanks.”
“Also . . .” Jill said, backing away from my desk only to knock into Hunter’s chair, “Shit.” He grabbed the arm of the chair and Hunter reached out to steady him with a curious-blue gaze. Jill froze for a moment before coming to his senses and yanking his hand back.
“Also?” I asked, peeking up to the chief’s open door as I stood.
Jill shrugged. “I mean, you left your laptop and notes on Jack’s desk.”
“I’ve since retrieved them.”
“That wasn’t what I . . . never mind.” He twisted, carefully rounding Hunter’s chair. “See you around.”
He stormed back to his corner of the office, and Hunter and I shared a stumped look. Then he jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “Get to the chief—and if it comes up, slip in a good word for me, yeah?”
Hannah’s phone rang and she hurriedly answered as I clipped my way to Chief Benedict.
He sat in his office chair, reading off some crinkled sheets of letter paper. “Sit.”
I sat.
“I don’t think it’s going to give you everything you’re searching for, Liam.”
I gripped the metal frame of the seat, palms pushing on the vinyl upholstery. “Excuse me, sir?”
He whisked the paper he’d been reading toward me. “You’ve got the features editor position. This was brilliant.”
Frowning, I picked up the sheets and glanced over them. This was my article. My draft had been shaped up and edited. I blinked down at my words, tweaked in places for flow and impact.
I glanced over my shoulder and through the chief’s open door, but I couldn’t see Jill’s desk. I read over the opening paragraph again, and then the Dating the Differently-Abled title, and my name underneath.
My fingers smoothed the paper and I set it down. “Thank you, chief.”
“Thank you, Liam, for embracing my challenge to you for the semester. You’ve grown in leaps and bounds.” He stroked his beard thoughtfully, his mouth a worried line. “You wanted this really badly—dare I say, desperately—and I’m concerned you’re setting yourself up for disappointment.”
He shifted in his seat so I was looking at his profile and the cathedral behind him. He got up and came around to my side, stretching out a hand for me to shake. I took it. His squeeze was warm, comforting. “Whatever you decide to do once you’re done here, you’ll do splendidly.”
“But?”
“But I’m not a fool, Liam. I know who your father is. Everyone knows who he is. I also know that for the last four years you’ve spent every Thanksgiving in the office.”
Except for this year, I wanted to add. Except that wasn’t his point and I knew it.
I let go of his hand with an acknowledging nod and slipped my glasses higher. “I’m not going to be disappointed,” I said. “I’m still aiming for the moon, but even if I don’t get it . . .” I thought of Hannah, Shannon, Hunter, and especially Quinn.
I didn’t finish the sentence; I didn’t need to.
I stood from the chair, nodded once more to the chief, and headed back out to my friends.
The End
Thank you for reading “Liam Davis & The Raven”!