Chapter 6
6
EMBER
“Oh, so you’re not fired, then?”
It’s the first thing my editor says when she sees me down in the lobby of the Penmayne building, chatting to Clarice the receptionist.
I slowly turn to my boss.
“I’m still alive, Penelope,” I reply. “Somehow.”
I can see she’s gripping her laptop hard. Her hands are turning white because of the pressure. She’s so damn curious as to how I’m still standing here in the Penmayne skyscraper and not already contemplating a life as a nun.
“What happened?” she asks me. “What did Waylen say to you? How did it go?”
I don’t blame her for being curious - everyone in this building is way too familiar with Waylen Penmayne’s mysterious ways, so it’s strange when things have turned out differently than expected. She was probably packing up my desk upstairs the very next minute I left her office to go to level one hundred to meet the man.
“Waylen gave me a job,” I say.
Penelope’s eyes narrow.
“You were promoted?” she asks, still very confused.
“Not exactly,” I reply. “I have to write an article for him.”
“An article? For Waylen Penmayne? Personally?”
“Yep. He wants me to write a puff piece about his firefighter son who’s shunned his family. It’s to help emotionally manipulate Connor Penmayne to reconnect with his father or something.”
My boss seems even more confused.
“What?”
I smile and shrug.
“That’s the job he wants me to do for him.”
“Go and meet his son? That’s it?”
“That’s it.”
“You’re not getting fired?”
“Nope.”
“But... a puff piece about his son ? What the hell...”
“Yep. You should be jealous , Penelope,” I say.
“Why would I be?”
“Well, I’ve interviewed violent ideological revolutionaries in some of the most inhospitable places on the planet... some rich, odd firefighter in a small American town is going to be the easiest paycheck in the world.”
And now it sinks it.
And she begins to understand.
Penelope laughs.
“I can’t believe this,” she says. “It’s absurd. Poor you, having to deal with this.”
“I think Waylen is certifiably mad,” I remark. “But what choice do I have?”
“None,” Penelope replies. “You have no choice in the matter. He’s the dictator. His word is law. You gotta please him if you want to continue being a journalist.”
I sigh.
“Exactly.”
“Be careful,” she says, now adopting a far more serious tone. “Mr. Penmayne and his family are dangerous.”
I scoff.
“You’re just saying that, boss.”
“No, it’s the truth. They’re a scarier family than you’ve heard about, Ember.”
“Come on, this is definitely going to be easy, Penelope. It’s just some fancy, ass-kissing words about some boring son.”
“You don’t know that,” my editor warns. “You don’t know the Penmaynes. You’ve got to be careful about entangling yourself with them and their schemes. You’ve really got to be careful with everything involved with them. They have some very real enemies. They are a truly terrifying family, and I’m going to be worried for you.”
I scoff again, pretending to my boss that everything is okay and that I am certainly not in over my head.
But, deep down, I know she’s right.
I should be scared.
I should be terrified .