Chapter 17Hazel
17
Hazel
“ O ne chai latte with cinnamon and vanilla drizzle.” Veronica marches up to me and sets the hot drink on my cubicle desk.
I exhale a long sigh of relief and swivel to face her. “You’re the best.”
She plants a hand on her hip, beaming, her dark curls bouncing around her chin. “I know.”
I take the cup and clasp it in my hands, relishing the warmth it brings. “Why is it that a warm latte can cure anything?”
Veronica shrugs. Her expression is casual and unbothered. “I don’t know. It’s just the way it is.”
“I’ll drink to that.” I bring the cup up to my lips and take a first, careful sip so I don’t burn my tongue.
“Maybe we can meet up for more spirited drinks after work?” Veronica arches a suggestive eyebrow.
“I like the way you think. I really think I need a drink with all this.” I let out a groan of frustration, gazing at the ceiling.
Veronica plops down at her desk beside mine, her brows furrowing. “Are you still upset about the story?”
I look at her. “You mean the story I didn’t get to finish?”
She studies me.
“Don’t look at me like that,” I frown.
“Like what?”
“Like you pity me,” I say, pursing my lips. “I don’t want that right now, or ever, really.”
Veronica’s face softens into sympathy. “I would never pity you. You are so strong. I would have called in sick indefinitely.”
I laugh. “I don’t know whether to be insulted or flattered.”
“Trust me.” She takes a sip of her own latte. “It’s a compliment.”
“Well, thanks, but I really don’t want to be working on this flower festival story.” I yawn and roll my eyes. “Boring.”
“Oh, you mean you don’t want to cover a bunch of plants who can’t speak back to you?” Her sarcasm is not lost on me.
I laugh and rub my forehead. “I don’t know what’s more insufferable. The plants, or the owners of the plants who can’t stop talking about seeds and watering.”
“It’s work,” Veronica reminds me with a gentle smile.
“I know. I’m not trying to stound like a brat. I just…” I trail off, not really sure what to say because I’m not really sure what I want.
Veronica taps a pen against the edge of her desk, staring at her screen as she says, “no, I get it.”
I lean forward. “You do?”
Veronica turns her head to look at me, and there’s understanding sparkle in her brown eyes. “Everyone around here plays it safe. Everyone but you.” Her gaze is fierce. “And for that, I applaud and respect you.”
“Wow.” I grin at her. “You really are heavy on the compliments today.”
She rolls her eyes and shifts back to face her computer screen. “Don’t push your luck.”
“I think I’ve been doing a little too much of that lately,” I admit.
“You’re still here,” Veronica says. “And I’m glad.”
“Me too. I don’t know how I would ever get through this job without you.”
“Well, the story I’m covering is the celebrity piece you gave up on,” she laughs.
I teasingly toss a paper clip at her, which she catches in her lap and tosses right back.
“Yeah, but you love celebrity gossip,” I remind her.
“I live for it.” She winks.
I want to tell her I wish I could be more like her, more carefree, more relaxed and comfortable in her own skin, in her work, in her responsibilities. Veronica lives her life in an unproblematic way, and she has little problems because of it. Maybe I should learn by example and try to sprinkle some of that mentality into my own life.
I remind myself that sitting under fluorescent lights in an office cubicle is better than being dead under cold morgue lights.
When I look at her again, she’s chewing the pen top and staring across the room.
I follow where her eyes are looking, and land on Stephen, one of the new project editors. He’s young like us, but he’s been assigned to one of the lead teams, one that Veronica has been working on for several weeks.
He spots us, and he beams, a friendly smile washing over his face. He waves in our direction before the copy editor approaches him with a binder, distracting him.
When Veronica notices me looking at her, her lips turn pale. “What?”
I give her a knowing smirk. “Why don’t you just go talk to him?”
“Who?” She tries to play innocent, but I know better.
I nudge my chin in his direction. “Chris Hemsworth over there.”
Her mocha cheeks splatter with pink and her eyes dart to her lap. “He’s the team lead.”
I shrug. “So? He’s cute, and he seems nice.”
Veronica blinks at me. “Have you talked to him?”
“No, we just went straight to the bedroom.”
Veronica throws her pen at me. “You’re not funny.”
While laughing, I say, “I beg to differ.”
“He wouldn’t be interested in me anyway,” Veronica declares.
“And why not? You’re beautiful, funny, and smart.” I lean back in my chair. “I’d date you.”
Veronica blows out a laugh. “Oh, yeah. I bet you would.”
“But I’m too busy sabotaging my own dating life with Bratva guys.”
Veronica gives me a sympathetic smile. “At least you’re willing to joke about it.”
“If I don’t laugh, I’ll cry, you know how the saying goes.”
“Unfortunately, all too well.” Veronica sighs, her gaze returning to the handsome hunk across the room, who has gone back to his work.
“Maybe you could invite him for drinks with us later,” I suggest.
“And you could invite David,” Veronica smirks.
“Okay, fine. You’ve got me. But you should go for it.” After a pause, I say, “really.”
Veronica contemplates. “Maybe. We’ll see how it goes.”
“Well, we better get back to it.” I slide my chair under my desk and face the laptop screen, placing my hands over the keyboard.
I’m getting ready to focus when I hear footsteps behind me. Veronica and I turn at the same time to see Robert approaching us, holding his phone.
My stomach jumps into my throat and my muscles tense. I sit up straight like I’m a child getting ready to be reprimanded by their teacher.
“Ladies,” Robert says with a nod. He’s wearing slim fit jeans, brown shiny loafers, and a pale green blazer over a chocolate-colored button down, with no tie.
“Hey Robert.” Veronica greets him for the both of us.
Robert fixes his gaze to me, turning his phone screen in my direction. “Did you happen to see the news?”
My eyes flutter to the screen, but Robert draws it back before I can read it, grinning like a lottery winner. “That Russian mafia boss who’s so notorious for starting trouble around town got arrested.”
I freeze. My heart that had jumped into my throat sinks into my stomach and dissolves.
Veronica gasps for the both of us, clasping a hand over her mouth.
“What happened?” I find my voice, trying to sound as casual as possible, not moving a single facial muscle not to give any emotions away to Robert.
Robert leans against the edge of my desk, his eyes alive with delight. “Got brought in for illegal weapons dealing. Says in here he put up quite a fight, too, and got some added charges at the scene.”
I swallow but my throat is made of sand. “Can I see?”
Robert turns the screen toward me again and I read the headline, trying to make sense of it, trying to bring it into focus. But it’s real, and in large, black font, as if the letters are screaming at me.
“My god,” Veronica breaths out behind me.
“Hey,” Robert begins, a pondering expression on his face. He presses his finger to his chin. “Hazel, weren’t you working on an article about this?”
I nod, giving him a blank stare. I’m too in shock to do anything else. My stomach is made of battery acid.
Robert shrugs, chuckling as he stands up. “Well, looks like somebody already beat you to it.”
He starts strutting away as if he just won a battle.
My jaw clenches, teeth grinding together.
“Don’t worry about him,” Veronica whispers to me, bringing me back to the present. “He’s just being a jerk.”
I glare in his direction as he disappears down the cubicle corridor. “When is he not being a jerk?”
Veronica sighs. “You’ve got that right. It’s just their generation. They are all on a power trip. It doesn’t matter who it is.”
“If I were the boss, I’d never patronize my employees like he does,” I say.
“And your lips to god’s ears, hopefully you will get that opportunity one day,” Veronica states.
“I’d rather just work for myself,” I admit.
“Wouldn’t’ we all.” She chuckles, but it sounds rhetorical.
My gaze steers to Veronica. “Did you see how he was gloating ?”
She nods emphatically. “I told you. It’s their generation. Power trip.” She taps her temple. “It’s all messed up in here. Must have started from a young age.”
I snort. “What’s our excuse, then?”
“We were raised by them.” Veronica sounds sad as she says it.
“There comes that naughty phrase, ‘generational trauma,’ again.”
“It’s not naughty if it’s true.” Veronica is stoic.
I chew my bottom lip. “I feel terrible for storming out on David like that the other night.”
Veronica frowns. “Why? It’s not your fault.”
“No. I mean, yeah. I know that, but still. I feel sort of…I don’t know. Guilty?”
“You have nothing to feel guilty about,” Veronica reassures. “Do we need to go have that drink now, with lunch?”
I rock back and forth in my chair. “I know you’re just joking to make me feel better, but this really sucks.”
“Are you going to try to reach out to David?” she asks.
“And say what? That I screwed it up and I’m sorry he’s in jail?” My shoulders fall as I shake my head.
“Well, you said he wanted to put an end to the gun trafficking, right?”
“That’s what he told me,” I confirm.
“Do you think he was set up?” Veronica asks.
“It’s possible. He had this guy who worked for him that had his own crew on the side. I got the sense that there was some bad blood between them or something.”
“Maybe you could continue to work on the story, to bring justice to David,” Veronica suggests. “Be your own sleuth. Or his. Advocate on his behalf. If you really want to show him your sorry, that’s the best place to start.”
“Yeah,” I mutter, knowing she’s right. My ears ring with David’s voice calling out to me when I left his condo, and the pleading way he begged me to come back after he called me later that same night. “I’m a terrible person.”
“You are not a terrible person. You’re just confused. You are a journalist. You can still make this right, and clear David’s name. You have the platform to do it.”
I take a deep breath of resolve. “Thanks Veronica. For everything.”
“I’ll always be here for reassurance.” She winks at me.
I turn back to my computer screen. “Good, because if this is going to work, I’m going to need all the help I can get. I don’t want to screw this up again.”
Veronica rises from her chair and stands behind me, massaging her fingers into the dents of my shoulders. “Repeat after me. I’m a badass journalist who believes in justice for the right reasons.”
I repeat it like she asks.
“Now, look at me.”
I turn and face her. She stares into my soul. “Never doubt yourself. Because if you do, others will start to do it, also. Know your worth. And it’s a lot. Always stand up for what’s right.”
My eyes flutter closed, and I exhale through parted lips. “I’m going to fix this. Somehow.”
While my eyes are closed, I picture David’s lips on mine, his fingers running over my hips. My hands raking down his back, traveling through his hair. His tongue massaging against my own, a breathless groan escaping his lips.
Maybe I need to go for a run after work or draw in my sketchbook. I’ve been so preoccupied with David and the Bratva life, I’m forgetting myself, forgetting my hobbies, what makes me relax, what makes me feel a sense of self.
But right now, David needs me. And the more time that passes, I realize that I need him, too.