25. Maddie
Chapter twenty-five
Maddie
Felicity, my editor, agreed to meet me for lunch at a small café not usually frequented by reporters from The Intelligencer , although she first suggested we stay in the building because of safety concerns.
We’re having another meeting later with security, even though we still don’t know if my investigation was responsible for the break-in.
The café is empty at two p.m., so it’s only us in the back corner.
I can tell she’s upset about the break-in because she has her red hair up in a tight bun on the top of her head.
When she’s upset or working intensely, that’s when her hair goes into an all-business bun.
But wait until she hears that Nick and I were fake dating.
My stomach plummets. I really messed up.
I’m supposed to stand for truth. I don’t want to lose Felicity’s respect.
When her eyes widen at a good point I’ve made, I feel such a swell of satisfaction.
On the wall next to us is a framed poster of “Lunch atop a Skyscraper,” with eleven men eating lunch on a girder high above the sky. Eleven men. Just short of one man to be a jury. I’m about to be judged and found wanting.
I could never have done that job. I’m too afraid of heights.
Balancing on a beam high above the city streets with the possibility of falling?
That’s what this feels like. It’s as if I’m walking a tightrope between two desires.
I want to be with Nick—he makes me so happy—but I’m so fearful of the repercussions of my signing that dating contract.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Felicity asks as she sips her coffee. “Do you need counseling?”
I shake my head. “I’m okay. It was scary, but a lot less scary because I was with Nick.”
I take a deep breath. Best to lead with the crux of the story. “But I have to confess something… Nick and I were fake dating originally, but now we’re really dating. And whoever broke in stole our fake-dating contract.” I show her the terms of the contract.
She studies it. Her face is not revealing any clues.
“I like Nick. I was trying to help him, but I didn’t think through all the possible repercussions to my career,” I say. It was supposed to stay private , but as a journalist, I should know how little privacy there is anymore.
“Right… That’s not good.” My boss shakes her head. “Why do you think the thief took the contract?”
“As leverage. To bribe me to drop my investigation,” I say. “ If it’s related to the investigation. If it’s one of Nick’s fans, who want to reveal that we’re not dating, then that person should disclose it relatively quickly.”
“You really think it’s tied to your investigation?” she asks. “What about the picture of the two of you, with you crossed out, that was left on the floor?”
I shiver. Seeing a big red X over my face had not been a cheery sight.
“I don’t know. But if I’m a fan and I have a choice between breaking into Nick’s apartment or his girlfriend’s, I’d much rather meet Nick.”
“But this wasn’t a female fan.”
“That’s right. This was definitely a man,” I say. “And that hammer didn’t give him a huge fan vibe.”
She’s not saying anything about the contract. Is that bad or good?
“And that’s all that was stolen?” she asks.
That was more than enough.
“I think so,” I say. “I didn’t do the most thorough search, but I can’t think of anything else that’s missing. He didn’t take any jewelry, not that I have much.”
“You’re getting close. Especially if he felt the need to destroy evidence or send a message. Have you backed up your laptop in case it gets stolen?” she asks.
“In multiple places.”
“What are your next steps for the investigation?” she asks.
Is the contract a nonissue? Is it good that she’s only asking about the investigation?
“I’m monitoring Ward’s Instagram, and I’m coordinating with Tasha and her friends to monitor Beatrice and the deputy commissioners,” I say.
“This Saturday, though, I have to cover the Chinatown parade for an article. But still, that should give me a chance to follow Deputy Commissioner Pommer. He should be there. It’s his district, and he was on a float last year. ”
“As far as the contract, yes, it won’t help your career if this gets out,” she says. “It’s been very public, and it certainly seemed real…”
“Because the feelings were real,” I say.
“That is better,” she says. “It helps that you are really dating now.”
“That does help, right?” I ask.
She nods. “I think so. Whether it affects any promotion, I don’t know.”
I am making dinner for Nick because that talk with my boss went better than I expected. She was more interested in the investigation. And she wasn’t definite that it would hurt my chance to be promoted.
I call my mom to tell her I’m now truly dating Nick and that our contract may be published. I’d told her before that we were fake dating.
“You’re really dating Nick now? That’s great!” my mom says. “I always liked him. He seems kind. He helped me carry up my grocery bags once.”
“He’s a good guy,” I say.
“I’m relieved to hear it. I always worried that maybe your father’s death made you a bit closed off, and that’s why you weren’t dating.”
I don’t think so. Maybe it made me a bit more cautious, but I’ve been dating. Until the fish review.
“Mom,” I say. “It’s not like you’re out there dating.”
“I’m so busy with the business…”
“I’m busy with work, too.”
“But I also had twenty-five years with your dad. I loved your dad. I want that same experience for you.”
“I really like Nick,” I say. We change the subject and catch up a bit more, and then I promise to stop by soon.
Lily: I checked the book, and it now has a blue envelope! Someone picked up the other envelope! But I never saw it.
Me: Do you have another envelope so we can see what this one contains?
Lily: Bella is on her way over. She’s going to buy one and bring it here so we can open the envelope, see what’s inside, and replace it.
Me: You guys are the best!!
As I wash the potatoes, my phone beeps again.
Lily: It’s the title of a book: Rocky Mountain Heat. I read that! She has good taste in books.
She sends me a photo of a piece of paper with the title typewritten on it.
Me: Thank you! This is great.
Yes. We’re making progress. We know now how they’re communicating which book holds the pay-off.
I hum as I put the tray with the beef and potatoes in the oven. I splurged. But also, I’m so happy that Nick likes me. I feel all bubbly inside, like my veins have become twinkly sparking lights.
And when Nick finally comes home and hugs me, it’s as if I’ve been plugged into the socket and filled with a rush of energy. Until I realize that Nick is clinging to me. When I pull back to look at his face, he looks tired.
“What happened? Did the recording not go well?” I ask.
“The recording went really well,” he says. “Although I didn’t get a chance to work on my latest song that I started composing last night.”
“So MusEn was upset about the contract,” I say.
“What did your boss say?” he asks.
He’s deflecting. It must be bad.
“That it could hurt my career,” I say. “But she was more interested in my current investigation.”
“Did she have any suggestions on how to get conclusive proof?” he asks.
“No. I told her I recruited Tasha and her friends to follow Beatrice because I will be in Chinatown for the parade this Saturday, and I can follow Pommer then.”
“I’m coming with you.”
“I’m going in disguise again,” I warn him.
“As you should,” he says.
He still hasn’t told me what his label said.
“Felicity thought it was good that we were actually dating, so it wasn’t as bad as I feared.” I take his face in my hands. “Tell me. We’ll figure it out.”
“They suggested we break up because then there would be no issue,” he says. “I told them that wasn’t an option.”
No.
“Okay.” I bite my lip. That wasn’t the response I expected from MusEn. “And they were okay with not breaking up?”
“They said we could wait and see and ‘keep it in our pocket as a possibility.’” Nick makes air quotes. “But I think we can ride it out together.”
He kisses me, and I give in to all the longing I feel for him. He enfolds me in his arms, and I feel protected. We will be okay. There has to be some way we can make this work to our benefit. This is definitely a feel-good story that people should support.
As he pulls away, he says, “What are you cooking? It smells good.”
“It’s a roast, so it needs more time,” I say.
He peers through the oven door. “I didn’t know you could cook like this. Have you been holding out all these years? I feel like I would’ve smelled this deliciousness in the hallway.”
“The last time I cooked a roast was several years ago, during the holidays, so we’ll see if it actually turns out okay,” I say wryly.
He bumps me with his shoulder. “I have faith in you. Do you want to practice my latest routine with me?”
“I don’t think I’m that coordinated.” I laugh. “Won’t I throw off your timing?”
“It’ll be fun,” he says.
“Famous last words…”
He turns on the song and shows me. “It’s eight counts, so on the eighth count, we start.”
I cannot be in sync for the life of me. I feel like I memorize the choreography, but I can’t put it all together, and my body is always behind my brain.
That is, if my body even decides to cooperate and imitate the way he’s moving.
Three steps right. Arm up. Arm down. Heart gesture with arms. Kick.
Spin. I spin the wrong way and crash into him.
We collapse onto the floor, laughing. We both needed that release.
“You’ll get the choreography eventually,” he says when he finally catches his breath.
Nick takes a photo of us, all joyful, our heads together.
“I don’t have a photo of us,” he says. We take a few more.
“How long have you been dancing?” I ask.