Chapter 11 Brynn #2
surprised eyes mirrored mine, held it up for him to see it was Colton calling, and then put the phone to my ear.
“Hello?”
“Sebastian Sudworth. As in Sebastian Sudworth ? Brynn. Please tell me Sudworth is a common name in your hometown—I don’t know, like Jones or Smith. Please tell me this
is not the Sebastian Sudworth I’m thinking it is.”
I must admit... above all else, in that moment, I felt really stupid for spending my morning making mental lists of people
in Adelaide Springs who might be willing to escort me around town instead of Sebastian Sudworth when I really should have
been figuring out who the heck Sebastian Sudworth was.
“Well, Colton, to be honest, I know you and Orly seem to know who this guy is, but I—”
“Is Orly with you?”
“Yes. We’re in a car outside of—”
“Put me on speaker.”
I quickly did as he instructed and held the phone between Orly and me. “Okay, you’re on speaker.”
“Orly, this is who I’m thinking of, right?” He sounded calm, but an eye-of-the-storm sort of calm. Not any sort of calm that
instilled confidence it was safe to remove the boards I had nailed up over my windows.
“Yes, sir, it is.”
I could hear Colton inhaling and exhaling on the other end of the call. I took the opportunity to tap Orly on the arm and
mouth the words, “Who is Sebastian Sudworth?” but before he could attempt to silently reply, Colton had apparently gathered
himself enough to speak again.
“We’re not even going to talk, for the time being, about how genuinely disturbed I am that the woman we just put in the second
chair on Sunup — ostensibly a news program—has never heard of one of the most widely respected journalists of a generation. Although, honestly, Brynn,
I am in awe of you sometimes. But be that as it may, here’s what you need to know: Sebastian Sudworth has two Pulitzers in
International Reporting. It’s generally agreed upon that he was cheated out of five or six others. He has a handful of Peabodys.
I’m not sure how many Emmys the man won. Probably more than me, although that seems difficult to imagine, doesn’t it... considering the crack team of journalists I lead? He was on the ground in Afghanistan.
Syria. Sudan. The network wanted him in the anchor spot, but he wouldn’t take it. Every network wanted him, but he wouldn’t leave the field. And then the guy just disappeared. He left the business and hasn’t been
heard from since. Now, I guess, we know. He’s been holed up in your hometown. Of course he has.” Colton laughed humorlessly and muttered, “Apparently Adelaide Springs, Colorado, is the Island of Misfit Broadcasters.”
Yeah... okay. He probably would have shown up on Google if I had thought to look.
Even I, who according to the world-renowned journalist in the Stone Temple Pilots shirt had a gift for putting my foot in
my mouth, knew not to say aloud the thoughts running through my head right then. Thoughts about how it wasn’t really my fault
that I’d never heard of the guy. Okay, sure, maybe he was a big deal in the international reporting game, but first and foremost,
I was in the entertainment business. I interviewed politicians and dignitaries, and I reported on the events of the day, but
I also once spent a week in Ibiza with Paris Hilton, testing different brands of sunscreen. What did he want from me?
Afghanistan. Syria. Sudan.
I’d covered the Olympics a couple times. I’d had lunch with the First Lady in Germany while the G7 Summit was happening. And
I had been on location at Macy’s on Black Friday more times than I could count, so you couldn’t say I’d never been sent into
a war zone.
I gasped. “Do you think he’s doing a story on me? Some investigative piece?” That had to be it. Didn’t it?
I heard Colton click his tongue against his teeth. “I don’t know. I wouldn’t think so.” I opened my mouth, prepared to insist
that had to be it, but Colton cut me off. “I’m not sure you’re the sort of subject he would be interested in. What do you think, Orly?
Any theories?”
Orly shifted position as much as he could in his confined space of the front seat and looked back toward Sebastian’s front
door. The coast was still clear. “Whatever it is, I don’t think it’s that.”
Why in the world was Sebastian Sudworth in Adelaide Springs?
I’d had plenty of questions before, of course, and that was just when he was a relatively young, relatively attractive guy who seemed to have laid down roots in a place that had never had the right climate to grow new trees.
But if he was—or had been—all the things Colton said, why in the world would he be here?
“So what do you mean he disappeared? What happened?”
Orly looked at me, I think, imploringly. “Look, Sebastian’s a good guy. I don’t think we need to do anything to—”
“I agree, Orly,” Colton chimed in.
Seriously, what did they think of me? “I wasn’t suggesting we should use it against him.
Give me a little credit, guys.” Except, whatever happened that caused him to walk away from such an illustrious career.
.. Was there something there that I could use?
Not to make his life worse, just to make mine better?
No. Stop it. Don’t be the awful person they think you are. “I’m just trying to get caught up.”
Colton sighed. “No one knows, really. There were NDAs and contract buyouts to the point that there was really nothing left
but rumors.”
“Like what sorts of rumors?”
Orly’s face was overtaken by a fatherly, disapproving frown. I shrugged and continued with a squeakier, more defensive voice
than I had begun with. “Shouldn’t I know what I’m working with here, if I’m going to be stuck with the guy?”
“I’m not sure you should be stuck with the guy, now that I know who the guy is.”
“Oh, Colton.” I scoffed. “There’s no need to rock the boat.” I caught myself, right there in that moment, doing something
I didn’t understand. Why was I arguing against what I had wanted to begin with? I was on the verge of getting my way. Of getting
rid of him. Was it just because I didn’t like being told what to do? Or because Sebastian Sudworth had suddenly become a lot
more interesting? “I don’t like him very much—truthfully he’s been a real pill from the moment we got here—but I’m sure we
can make it work.”
Or was it that ? Did someone suspecting I wasn’t up to a task make it imperative that I be given the chance to prove I was?
To prove I could make it work, no matter what “it” was?
“I mean, he dresses like a second-string pizza delivery guy, and it seems like he’s done everything he can to get in the way of the story Orly and I are wanting to tell, but—”
“Is that true, Orly?”
“No, sir. I really don’t think so.” Orly mouthed, “Sorry,” and shrugged, then diverted his eyes away from mine. “I think...
Well, if I’m being honest, I don’t think Sebastian necessarily has a lot of respect for Brynn, or at least not for the type
of news—”
Colton’s laughter drowned out the rest of Orly’s sentence—not that anyone would have struggled to interpret what he was saying.
“No, I wouldn’t think so. Sudworth always was a bit of a journalism snob.”
“But I don’t get the impression he’s trying to sabotage anything,” Orly concluded.
Colton sighed. “All the same, I think it’s best we just bring you home, Brynn. We’ll figure out another way to—”
“What?!” I shouted into the phone and pulled it closer. “No way. If I leave now, nothing has changed. If I leave now...”
I may not have had my wits about me enough to do a deep dive into Sebastian Sudworth research, but I had taken the time to do a search for #firebrynncornell, which, as of seven thirty that morning, had still been trending. “I’m
not quitting. No. Forget it.”
“Hey, I wasn’t saying—”
“But I have to fix this. You have to give me a chance to fix this.” You just have to .
Orly leaned over to get close to the phone again. “I’m with Brynn on this, Colton. I don’t think there’s any reason to leave.
Not yet. If you don’t mind my saying so, I think we just need to let her do the job she came to do.”
I placed my hand on Orly’s jacket-clad forearm and squeezed.
He winked in response and mouthed, “I got you.” As I looked at Orly, my eyes beginning to mist, I caught some motion and pointed behind him.
There was the two-time Pulitzer winner, locking up his house and carrying a bag of dog poop to his garbage can.
Orly cleared his throat, returned to his normal position, and rebuckled his seat belt while I pulled the phone back with me
and lowered my voice.
“He’s heading our way, Colton. What should I do?
” Why did I ask? Why didn’t I tell him what I would do?
Maybe because I had no idea? All I knew was we couldn’t leave.
We couldn’t give up. If I wanted to return to the Sunup couch, the only chance I had was to convince the world that the Brynn Cornell they’d witnessed insulting her hometown last
Friday was not the real Brynn Cornell. And the only way to convince the world of that was to convince Adelaide Springs of
that. And maybe the only way to convince Adelaide Springs of that...
Colton and I arrived at the same impossible directive at the same time.
“Brynn, what do you think are the chances you can turn Sebastian Sudworth into your biggest fan?”
Orly did a wide-eyed double take to the back seat and then tried to look normal again as Sebastian dropped the lid of the
trash receptacle and began walking toward us.
Throughout our conversation with Colton, I’d been thinking back on all the interactions Sebastian and I’d had so far, trying to piece together all the reasons he hated me.
Because I’d insulted the people and the town he apparently loved?
Sure. That went without saying. Because he didn’t think I was authentic?
Fine. I’d be authentic. What else? He’d said something about journalistic integrity.
Or maybe I’d said that? Oh yeah. That was when I was insulting his little town newspaper.
True, I hadn’t known about the Peabody-sized upgrade he’d apparently given the Adelaide Gazette .
I knew I’d hit on something there. I may not have known anything about him, but my gut had done a pretty good job pointing
me in the right direction, all things considered.
“You’re no journalist.” Wasn’t that what he’d said? So the journalism snob looked down on the woman who’d gone swimming with sea lions and Hugh Jackman.
No surprise there. But now I knew what I was working with, and I could avoid stumbling into any more of those easy-to-attack
situations. I could win him over. I would. Because, if nothing else, I’d already been completely authentic about one thing
I’d told him.
Nothing in my life had come easy. Nothing. And if he thought I didn’t have it in me to go toe-to-toe with him, he knew even less about me than I knew about him.
“Consider it done.” I clicked the red button to end the call just in time to smile and greet my soon-to-be biggest fan.