11. Maddie #2
“I wanted to give back to this country. My parents were political refugees, and I came to this city when I was twelve. And although it was hard, it meant I could live without fear that my mom or dad was going to disappear overnight. My dad got a job in construction. He’d complain about bosses cutting corners.
I wanted to work in this department to make sure construction sites are safe. ”
This all sounds legitimate. And not like someone who is going to take bribes for shoddy repair work. I’ve already confirmed that his father was a construction worker, so that checks out.
“Why did you decide to be a reporter?” he asks.
“I wanted to make a difference in people’s lives, and my mom always said I ask a lot of questions,” I say. “And covering a story is like solving a mystery or putting together a complicated puzzle. It’s fun. Plus, I’m not one for staying in an office.”
“Yes.” Deputy Commissioner Galliano smiles. “That’s one of my favorite parts of this job—that I’m out and about, checking on buildings and construction sites.”
“Do you check in on repairs?”
“If we get complaints.” He explains how it’s handled at the building level.
“Are there complaints about this being handled that way?”
“All systems have their wrinkles to iron out,” he says.
“So there are some complaints?”
“Yes,” he says.
“Complaints about the system or about repairs?” I ask.
“Both,” he says.
“What happens next?”
“We address them.”
We discuss a few more aspects of his job, I ask him to sign the book, and then he drops me off at Deputy Commissioner Pommer’s office.
Pommer’s desk is covered in architectural drawings. Pommer himself is tall and thin, with an angular face. He’s in his mid-forties and seems fit.
“I know the rats are a problem,” Deputy Commissioner Pommer says into the phone as he waves me to the seat in front of him.
“I’ve talked to Sanitation, and they’re rolling out the new garbage cans, but obviously we also need to do something about the current population living in your building.
” It sounds like someone is screaming at him on the other end.
“No, of course it’s not acceptable to have a rat in your bathroom.
We’ll arrange for the exterminator first thing. ”
The person on the other end yells loud enough for me to hear: “It’s obviously dead now. The super killed it.”
“You don’t want the exterminator?” asks Deputy Commissioner Pommer in a dry voice.
The person says something.
“Yes, it probably has friends,” Pommer says. “But you know, it’s best to call your super about this. They’re the ones who arrange for the exterminator. But I will let them know as well.”
Screeching erupts from the handset.
Pommer replies, “Last month, and it had no effect? Yes, I will look into it. Yes, I am impressed you have my number. How did you get my number?”
He listens and then says, “Yes, it is good to have friends in high places. I will definitely look into it.” He hangs up and turns to me. “Sorry for the delay, but constituents have to come first.”
“As they should,” I say. He seemed thrilled to chat with that constituent.
“I’m Deputy Commissioner Pommer,” he says.
“I’m Maddie—”
“The girlfriend of Nick Devlin. I know who you are.”
He says that in such a patronizing tone.
And…here it is already. Someone is defining me because I’m dating Nick. I didn’t expect it to be so soon or from a government official.
I straighten in my chair. “I prefer to introduce myself as a reporter for The Intelligencer .” And, hopefully soon, a city politics reporter.
He huffs. “I doubt that’s your preference, but let’s get this over with. What questions do you have for me?” He leans back in his chair.
“Based on my research, you’re spearheading an initiative for modernizing playgrounds. Can you tell me more about what’s going to change?”
He blinks. “How could you know that? Did Commissioner Johnson suggest discussing that topic?”
“No,” I say. “I saw you at the community board meeting for that district, and you left right after the playground matter was discussed. You put out a request for playground modernization proposals, and I read it.”
Take that.
“I see. You have done your research.” He steeples his fingers.
“We’re working on a new playground. We’re coordinating with the Parks Department to make sure enough trees are planted so that there’s shade on the really hot summer days, and we’re also using this new type of playground surface that’s blue so that it doesn’t absorb heat like the black surface of old. ”
“That sounds great,” I say.
“I think so. We’re celebrating our first park with this design at Eleanor Roosevelt Houses on January 25th,” he says. “You should come so you can see these innovations in person for the article. But then, maybe you already know, since your boyfriend is playing at that event.”
This is perfect. I don’t even need Nick’s official invitation. But still, it’s better to go as his date.
“I’d love to see it,” I say. “In fact, I’d love to write an article about these new playground initiatives. Would you be open to doing a follow-up article focused on that?”
“Definitely,” he says, seeming to soften towards me. “Here, this is a book I co-authored on this topic with a park designer. I suggest you read that first.”
“Will you inscribe it for me?” I ask. “I was also hoping I could get your signature on this history book about the first Infrastructure Department.”
He signs both books, adding a note that parks are the lifeblood of the city in his co-authored one.
“How come you didn’t join the Parks Department?” I ask. Parks Commissioner Pommer sounds good with the alliteration.
“I’m ashamed to admit that I only became deeply interested in parks and playgrounds after I had kids,” he says.
We discuss some other improvements they’re making, and then I bring the conversation back to repairs. He repeats what Ward said—that the stock is old and not always easy to repair and that it’s best done at the building level.
“And do you spot check the repairs?”
“When necessary,” he says.
Isn’t that the opposite of spot checking?
“How is that defined?” I ask.
“When there are an above average number of 411 complaints.”
“What’s average?”
“I don’t have that figure at the ready.” His phone rings. “I’m sorry. I have to take this. I hope you have what you need.”
I’m dismissed, and I’m still not sure how to figure out who is taking bribes.
As I leave the building, I call the number for Demoraux, the corrupt inspector. I finally tracked it down. I wanted to call him after the interviews so the deputy commissioners didn’t have any cause to cancel them. He picks up after the first ring.
“Is this Demoraux?” I ask.
“Might be. Who is this?”
“Hi. This is Maddie Hughes of The Intelligencer . You’ve been fining a lot of bars in the East Village lately. Is this part of a new enforcement effort?”
Click. He hangs up. I guess he wants to do this the hard way. But I will speak to him.
It’s off to the panel at my middle school now.
My middle school’s auditorium hasn’t changed. I remember walking on this stage to receive an award for starting our first newspaper and how proud I felt.
And not only is Nick in the first row in the audience, along with all my girlfriends with their boyfriends, but Nick persuaded the band and Luca to show up as well. An army of supporters has filled the room.
The mean girls who tormented me don’t seem to be here.
The panel starts off great. Twyla Jackson, whose career I’ve been following since I first became interested in journalism, immediately sets both the moderator—the twelve-year-old chief editor of the school newspaper—and me at ease.
Twyla and I have an instant rapport, and we play off each other’s strengths.
The whole talk lasts about forty-five minutes, and then we take questions from the audience.
“What’s your advice to aspiring journalists?” the moderator asks as her last question of the evening.
After Twyla gives her answer—to remember to be skeptical and to reflect the diversity of America in your stories—I say, “It’s hard to narrow down my advice.
First, talk to people and try to make as many friends as you can in all walks of life, because that can give you a lot of different perspectives and expand your horizons.
It gives you practice in getting people to open up.
You also never know when this connection might come in useful.
I was covering a bill at City Hall last year, and the city council member had left for the night, so we thought the bill was dead.
But at 6:05 a.m., one of my friends in the neighborhood called me—he runs the coffee truck outside City Hall—and he let me know that the city council member’s car had arrived at 6:00, along with the mayor’s car.
I was the first reporter on the scene and found out that they’d renegotiated some points, so it was going to be passed.
That was a great scoop for me and our paper.
The Intelligencer ran the story that the bill was being passed while the other papers were reporting it as dead.
And my other tips are don’t put your phone on silent, and don’t expect to get much sleep.
” I wink at Nick as I say this, and he smiles at me.
The moderator thanks us for a great discussion. I’m glad I did this .
Nick stands up to clap, and he looks so proud of me that I almost tear up. Twyla and I chat for a few minutes as we remove our microphones.
“It was a pleasure to meet you,” she says. “Feel free to reach out for lunch or a late breakfast if you ever want to commiserate about lack of sleep. I can’t have dinner out because I get up at four o’clock for the morning show.”
I can’t imagine how she gets up that early in the morning every day and then goes on live TV. It’s impressive.
“I’d be honored to meet up.” I gesture to Jing to come over, and I introduce Twyla to her. The three of us chat a bit more about being a journalist, and then Twyla has to leave.
As I venture out into the seating area, I’m soon surrounded by my friends. There’s definitely a heady feeling being surrounded by Nick and Luca—two tall, attractive guys—and my girlfriends. I feel so protected.
“Way to knock ’em dead, Maddie,” Nick says, patting me on the back.
And then I see her. The one who started the bullying.
The one who first decided that I should spend middle school as an outcast. My body flushes cold.
I look away. She circles around us, staring at both Luca and Nick in a calculating way.
I owe her nothing, so I turn back to my conversation with Jing. Good luck breaking into this circle.
But I underestimated her gall, just as I often did in middle school.
She taps me on the arm. “Maddie, I’m so glad to see you succeeded at your dream of being a reporter. We all knew Maddie would be a success.” And she scoops her arm through mine, her nails digging into my skin.
I freeze. She’s actually touching me.
My mind goes blank.
I stare at Nick. A quizzical expression crosses his face. His brow furrows. But it’s his eyes, full of concern and support, that bring me back to myself.
I jerk my arm away from her.
I ask Nick, “Have you seen Riley?”
“We should find her.” He holds my hand and tucks me close into him. He turns us around to walk away as Luca speaks up.
“You’ll excuse us,” he says. “The van is waiting outside for us and the rest of Maddie’s friends .” He emphasizes “Maddie’s friends.” When I look back as we reach the exit, past my whole group of friends trailing behind me, she stands alone.
Like I used to stand on the lunch line. She used to threaten anyone who ate with me with social ostracism. I quickly learned who my true friends were.
Still, I feel no joy in leaving her there alone.
Nick slips his arm around my waist and whispers in my ear, “Forget her. Just think that she made you a stronger person.”
But I’m not. I froze again. She was still able to affect me.
I’d thought I would be impervious to her.
I’m not. I’d thought she couldn’t affect me anymore.
She can . A tear of frustration escapes my eye.
I should have said, We were never friends.
I should have excused myself from her company. I should have prepared for this.
Maybe I should look at the comments on the articles and posts about Nick and me dating. Iris said not to look, but maybe I need to. I need to see if I can handle them, because if I really want to have a relationship with Nick, I won’t always be able to ignore the trolls and the rumors.
His possessive look when Luca hugged me, the way he looked so proud when everyone was clapping, and how quickly he pulled me into his embrace earlier today, I feel like there might be the possibility of something real.
Nick clasps my hand, and the warmth of it grounds me. I grip it back tightly. This is my life now. This group of friends and my career. I was on a panel with Twyla Jackson! And she treated me as an equal. We might even have lunch!
My phone beeps. It’s Demoraux, confirming that he is willing to meet me tomorrow. I show Nick that we’re on for tomorrow. This could be my big break.
It’s true that I froze. But she’s my history. What I need to determine is… Can I handle a future with Nick as a famous rock star with the trolls that will attack me? Am I stronger now? More sure of who I am? Will that be enough? Because I’m falling for him.