Chapter 3 #2
"Enough bickering." Holly doesn't look upset, but rather smug, and I wonder if this was what she wanted.
"I've told you where we are going from here.
Anyone who comes in on Monday without a solid idea for a major story is likely to find themselves on the unemployment line.
We have a lot of deadweight at the paper, and we need innovators, storytellers, and investigators.
We need stories that will sell papers, not advice on what to do if your boyfriend doesn't ask you to prom.
" Her voice is sarcastic, and she directs her last comment at me, which frankly is rude as hell, but I know I'm not going to say anything.
The fact of the matter is, I know she doesn't respect me, and she wants me gone.
"So, you want us to get exclusives with the elite of the island?" Jenny S. scribbles in her notepad and leans back with a self-satisfied smile. "I can't wait to pitch you all the ideas I have on Monday. I happen to know many of the eligible families on the island."
"Do you know the Waverlys?" Holly asks, a tinge of hope in her voice. The Waverlys are known to be the richest family on the island, but no one really knows anything about them. Not even Emma, whose parents are no longer based on the island, as they spend their time traveling around the world.
"No," Jenny says, looking deflated. "But they're the most elusive family on the island."
"Exactly." Holly looks around the room with an expectant look on her face. "Whoever can get me a story on the Waverlys will go up in my esteem and is guaranteed to keep their job."
"Better chance of winning the lottery," Emma whispers to me, and I giggle in response. The Waverlys are so out of my league and zip code that I don't even think about trying to get an interview with them.
"Right?" I check my phone. "Oh, man, only five more hours until my date with Patrick. Why is my heart racing like this?"
"Because you're nervous that you're dating a criminal and not a hot mafia guy like from those romance books." Emma shrugs. "You're just dating a straight-up weirdo."
"Thanks, Emma." I stare at her with a frown. "We don't know that he's really a criminal."
"He doesn't have a real job. He always has stacks of cash. He's always doing some deal out of the back of a truck or a warehouse, and, before you suggest it, we both know he's not one of those guys that buys storage units that aren't paid for."
"I know. I mean, I never would have agreed to a date if I'd known he might be shady. He was just so good-looking when we first met. And he always compliments me.”
“Girl…" Emma rolls her eyes. "He tried to get you to bring him to my parents' house when I wasn't there. And he asked if you knew the combination to the safe, remember?"
I swallow hard and nod. "So, I'm guessing the gut feeling in my stomach telling me to say no to his proposal is the feeling I should follow?"
"Do you love him?"
"No."
"Do you want to marry him?"
"Not really, but that's only because I don't even know our status."
"Exactly, Gina. He's not even your boyfriend. Give me a break," she says a little too loudly because suddenly everyone in the room is staring at us.
"Care to share the conversation with us?
" Holly asks and taps her long red nails against the table.
They are pointed and sharp, and I remind myself never to get into a catfight with her.
She'd scratch me to pieces, and my clear skin is one of the best things I have going for me.
I don't need her to blemish another part of my life.
"No, we were just trying to brainstorm for Monday," Emma says quickly.
"Thinking of who we have in our phones that might be worthy of a good story.
" Emma holds up her phone and waves it around like it's some sort of gold bullion, which, I suppose, to Holly, it would be.
The fact of the matter is that Emma has loads of rich people in her phonebook, some of whom she could likely call for an interview, but I know she won't. Just like I know I have zero contacts that Holly will be interested in, but I’m not going to tell her that.
A Spellman never admits to not being good enough.
That's something I've grown up with all my life.
"Hmm." Holly looks away. She knows better than to be super rude to Emma.
Even though Emma is technically just an employee and has no real say at the paper, she's still a Bond.
And one call to her brothers or her dad and Holly would be out on her ear.
Which is what makes it even more admirable that Emma hasn't made that call.
She is nothing if not fair. Which is incredibly gracious of her.
I know that if I were in her position, Holly would have been fired and sent packing as fast as I could yell out the words.
"Meeting dismissed." Holly slams the table hard and then walks to the door.
She stops, looks back at us like some sort of ice maiden, and snarls.
"Anyone that doesn't have a potential story and lead on Monday.
.." Her voice trails off, she smirks, and then she leaves the room. I roll my eyes and gaze at Emma.
"She couldn't finish the sentence?" I yawn as I stretch my arms up. "It's not like she hasn't already warned us that she wants to fire people. Like, just say it."
"She's dangling it like a carrot in front of our faces," Emma says, and we both stand up.
"Oh, wait, maybe I used the wrong analogy.
That would mean something good." She laughs, and we both make a face at each other.
"And we both know Holly is never going to do anything good for anyone other than herself. "
"I'm nervous, Ems. What am I going to do if I can't find someone or a good idea?"
"Don't worry about it." She squeezes my hand. "I'm sure I can help you find someone, and if push comes to shove, I'll speak to my brothers. I would never let you get fired."
"Thanks,” I say, though deep inside I feel like a failure.
I don’t want to have to depend on my friend to be able to keep my job.
I want to be good enough on my own to keep my job because I am an awesome writer and reporter.
I blink rapidly so as not to cry. Now is not the time to feel overwhelmed and anxious.
"I guess I know what I'll be doing this weekend. "
"Getting engaged?"
"Very funny." I shake my head and try not to groan loudly. "Brainstorming, silly."
"Emma, I feel sick to my stomach." I hold the phone to my ear as I make my way towards Olivetti's Steakhouse, the most exclusive restaurant in town. My feet are already aching from walking in the too-tight red heels I'm wearing. "I don't know what I'm going to say to Patrick."
"Just say the words that come from your heart," Emma says patiently, though I know she's dying to get back to her TV show.
She's been watching a reality TV show called The Traitors that she's fallen in love with and has already watched all the US episodes and is now on the UK seasons.
"Did I tell you what Alan Carr did in the last episode, by the way? "
"No, you didn't." I look down at my watch and stop.
"Girl, I'm here an hour early." I groan as I look around to make sure no one is staring at me.
"I'm not going to just stand outside the restaurant for an hour.
Everyone will think I'm some sort of prostitute, and then I'll get arrested and be on the local news.
Then Tina will tell everyone in the family that she was right.
I am a loser, and she's always been the best daughter and Spellman to ever exist." I grunt at the end. "Did I tell you that she and Garth are buying a house on Beach Drive? They’re going to have a view of the water. Like, fuck me now. How does my younger sister have enough money to buy a house with a beach view? While I just moved out of my parents’ house, into an apartment, not even a month ago. "
"Because she married Garth, who is the only son of a baseball legend," Emma answers, trying not to sound snide, but failing miserably. "You know how!"
"I wish he were old and gray with missing teeth. No, actually, I wish he had dentures that fell out when they were making love. That would somehow balance out the inequality in our lives." I moan and then immediately feel guilty. "I'm a horrible sister and a bitch."
"You're not horrible, Gina, but there's no need to be jealous of Tina. I'm sure she has her own issues."
"Yeah, like how many hours it takes to count how much money she has in the bank." I giggle. "Fine, I know I'm being a jealous loser. I guess I'm going to grab a glass of wine at Malibu's, seeing as I have so much time. Wanna come down and join me?"
"I would, but I'm already in my pj's. I just made cookies, and I want to see what Alan is going to do next.
" She pauses, and I hear her munching. "Also, are you sure you should drink wine before the date?
I love you, but you are far too happy when you've had alcohol, and I don't want you to say something like, ‘Yes, please’ to Patrick because you're inebriated. "
"Ugh, you're right. Why are you right? I don't want to be at the altar, saying hell no, and then defending my saying yes to the engagement because I had a couple of glasses of cabernet.
Fine, I'll just go into the bookstore. It's only a few doors down, and at least I can stop myself from getting into trouble. "
"Yes, girl, go to Chapters and Pages, treat yourself to a new book, and then head on over to see Patrick."
"Yeah, I'll do that. Okay, well, I will let you get back to your show."
"Thanks, girl. Love you. Come over as soon as the night is done and tell me everything that happened." She giggles. "And yes, I will be awake, no matter what time the date is over."
I hang up and make my way down Main Street towards Chapters and Pages.
I love the bookstore; it is my safe space.
I have spent many an afternoon, sitting in one of the couches, curled up reading a book, and sipping hot chocolate.
The owners of the store, Ginny and Otis Smith, are two of my favorite people in all of Whisper Cove and have watched me grow up.
They are like my de facto grandparents, and their granddaughter, Clare, was one of my closest friends in high school, though she left the island for college and grad school and was somewhere on the West Coast now, living her best life.
I really need to schedule a phone date with her and catch up.
I stand outside the quaint store with its large windows and check out the latest window displays.
One window is filled with classics and cute little lights, while the other side is a mix of thrillers, romance books, and historical fiction.
I smile at the two historical books on the small wooden stand.
I know that Otis Smith is responsible for that part of the display, as he's the biggest history buff I know.
He's always been into history and ancestry, and he told me once that he traced his ancestors on his dad's side all the way back to a small village in Nigeria, which is super cool.
I open the entrance to the store and am immediately greeted by the smell of peaches.
"Welcome to Chapters and Pages," Ginny calls out from behind the counter. "Oh, hey there, Gina." She beams and offers me a wave. "I'm making some of my world-famous peach lemonade. You want a glass?"
"Yes, please." I nod eagerly as I head over to where she's standing.
There are bookmarks, postcards, and stickers displayed next to the register, and I smile at the sticker right in front of me.
There's a palm tree, a stack of books, and a caption that reads, Welcome to Whisper Cove, the Home of Romance.
I try not to laugh because I've never heard that phrase before in my life, but I know that Ginny loves romance books, so maybe she's trying to make a name for our city, other than us being famous for having the most billionaires per capita.
"This is so cute, Nana Smith." I've called her by that name since I was a kid, and it feels disrespectful to call her anything else now that I'm older.
"Thanks, Gina. Glad you like them. How have you been? We haven't seen you in a while. Otis is just in the back, getting some books to restock." She smiles at me, her eyes taking in my appearance. "You’ve got a date tonight."
"I do, with my uh, situation... I mean my boyfriend, Patrick."
"The guy from Staten Island?" She gives me a look.
"The one with the tattoos? The one seen around warehouses late at night?
" Her look is disappointed and disapproving, and I don't say anything in response.
I don't know how I could ever forget that everyone knows everyone's business in Whisper Cove.
I don't even know how to defend him because I truly don't know what he does.
"Yes, ma’am," I say simply, and she just shakes her head.
"Well, you look very nice," she says finally and then turns away to grab a glass for the lemonade. I stand there awkwardly, feeling like I’m twelve years old again and have just been told off for sneaking a read of a dirty romance book, instead of something age appropriate.
I look down at my fingernails and then turn toward the door as the bell signals someone's entry.
My heart drops when I see who has entered.
"I don't believe my luck," I mutter under my breath as I stare into the dazzling and teasing blue eyes of the handsome man who stole my cupcake the day before. I never thought I'd see him again, and yet, here he is. And he looks just as startled as I do.
"Don't tell me that you're stalking me now, wannabe FBI lady," he says with a sardonic smirk, and all I want to do is tell him to shut up, but I know that I can't. I'll have to find some other way to put him down instead.