Chapter 31
Chapter Thirty-One
LUCY
‘Come in.’
My heart is in my throat as I push through the toughened glass door to Jon’s office.
It’s the first time I’ve been into work since my weekend in Whitby, and even though it’s only Wednesday morning, it feels like a lifetime since then.
Other than the couple of hours I spent debriefing at Mina’s on Monday evening, I’ve been holed up in my flat since, writing my article.
And crying. There’s been a lot of that too.
It came back in flashes: his leather jacket hung by the door; his tall frame perched at my breakfast bar; the window he kissed me by. Even my bed still held his scent. I had to wash my bedding twice before I felt like I couldn’t smell him anymore. And with every flash came a fresh wave of tears.
After a while, I welcomed them. It felt like I should be crying – like I’d lost something significant. Like I was somewhere other than where I was supposed to be. Don’t get me wrong, I love my flat. It’s always felt like home to me – bright and warm and safe. But now it feels different. Incomplete.
I think it’s going to take a while for that feeling to go away.
Still, despite battling through my first ever bout of real heartbreak, I finished the article, and it was everything I hoped it would be.
It was quirky and joyous – a real celebration of Whitby’s unique charm and the events, businesses and people who make that up.
So whatever comments Jon has on it, I feel certain I can bat them away.
I’m ready.
‘Fluff,’ he says, as I pull out a chair opposite him and smooth out my skirt as I sit. ‘It’s good to see you.’
I force a smile and hope it looks genuine. ‘Good morning,’ I say. I can’t quite manage to reciprocate his greeting. Honestly, it isn’t good to see him, and I haven’t got the strength to lie.
‘Well, let’s get right to it.’ He drops something in front of me – a few sheets of A4 stapled together.
It takes me a while to realise that it’s my article, pictures and all.
It’s a bit odd that he printed it out – we always deal with digital files these days – but I don’t think too much about it. Then he speaks.
‘I can’t run this,’ he says, voice even. It’s that same tone he uses when he’s flirting, like he thinks he’s giving me good news. ‘It’s bland, Fluff. I almost fell asleep reading it this morning, and that was after three coffees.’
His words strike at something inside of me. All I ever want is to make other people happy, so the fact that something I’ve done isn’t up to scratch cuts me deep.
‘I’m sorry,’ I mumble, a little flustered. ‘I can rewrite it. I’ll have it back to you by the end of the day.’
But Jon just shakes his head and reaches into one of the stacked paper trays on his desk. ‘Don’t worry about it,’ he purrs. ‘I’ve knocked something together myself.’
He drops another printed-out article on top of mine. It’s for the drama; it must be. I haven’t printed anything for at least two years.
‘We’ll publish it under your name, so you’ll get the credit, don’t worry.’ His face lifts, a leery smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. ‘After all, you did all the hard work for me.’
I read the title and subheading, and my heart nearly stops.
Interview with a Vampire: My weekend with Whitby’s most bloodthirsty local legend.
What the hell?
A sick feeling starts to build in my stomach as I skim read.
This article isn’t about the Goth Weekend at all.
It’s about Bram. It paints him as a troublemaker, arrogant and antagonistic, bleeding the town and his rivalry with Dean dry for his own gain.
I don’t read every word, but just from scanning it I can tell how exposing it is. How biting it is.
There are details about his ex, about his mum, and about how he went off the rails after the situations with both. And while all the vampiric metaphors don’t explicitly out him, let’s be honest, they’re not exactly subtle.
I frown back up at him. ‘Where did you get all this information?’
‘From you,’ he says with a self-satisfied grin. ‘I managed to snag your notes off the server before you deleted them. I had to fill in some of the gaps, but I think most of it is there.’
My heart’s racing, a frantic rhythm which I can feel in my temples.
‘You can’t print this,’ I splutter. The damage will be incalculable.
Bram might have ended things with us, but there’s no way I’m going to stand by and let harm come to him, particularly if there’s a chance he thinks I’ve written this trash.
‘It’s my paper, Lucy. I think you’ll find that I can do whatever the hell I like.’ Jon’s voice is even, but with a threatening tone to it which puts me on edge as soon as I hear it. ‘Even if it does upset you and your little boyfriend.’
He almost spits the word at me, and I flinch. His grin widens when he clocks it. How did I ever have feelings for him? The very thought makes me feel a bit sick now.
‘Thought I didn’t know about that, didn’t you?’ He huffs a laugh. ‘You weren’t exactly subtle about it. And here I was thinking we had something special, you and me.’
‘Something special like you have with Amy?’ I grind out, before I know I’m going to. I’m a bit surprised at myself, but I’ve said it now, and there’s no going back.
Jon’s poker face is pretty impressive, to be fair to him. If it weren’t for the slight twitch in his left eye, I might have thought my comment didn’t land.
‘You weren’t exactly subtle about it,’ I add pointedly, and it makes a muscle tighten in his jaw. I’m a little proud of myself, I can’t lie. I could count the number of times I’ve stood up to someone on one hand, and he deserves it more than most.
Jon clears his throat. ‘Look, you can’t—’
‘I’m not going to tell Amy what I saw,’ I interrupt. ‘Or her husband.’ I stress the last word, not that I think for a second that he cares about Amy’s marriage. ‘And in return for my discretion, you’re going to print the article I wrote, exactly as I wrote it. I think that’s fair.’
He steeples his hands and considers me for a moment. This isn’t the Fluff he’s used to, and he knows it. For better or worse, this weekend has changed me.
‘Fine,’ he says eventually. ‘But I’m going to need you to work more collaboratively on future projects.’
Something happens as I take in his words. I’m transported back to Sunday afternoon – to the end of the pier extension where I stood and yelled all my frustrations out into the roll of the North Sea. Back to that moment where I felt like I could do anything. Because now I know I can.
Starting with this.
‘That isn’t going to be a problem,’ I say, as a smile slowly takes over my face.
‘Because I’m not going to be working here anymore.
I’m resigning. Effective immediately.’ I stand, giving myself a height advantage, even if it’s only a slight one.
‘Do what you want with the Goth Weekend article, but if my name appears beside a single word that I haven’t written, you can expect to hear from my lawyers. ’
I definitely don’t have lawyers, but I don’t let that stop me. Instead, I grab my things and stride out of his office, head held high.
This is my story, and no one’s going to write it except me.
It’s almost one when I arrive back at my flat.
It turns out there’s actually a fair bit of admin to do when you quit your job on the spot, but after spending an hour and a half in the HR office with Amy, of all people, I was finally free to go.
They agreed to put me on a month’s garden leave with full pay, which should help with bridging the gap while I look for something else.
I know Mina works with a lot of our freelance writers, so I’m just thinking about asking her to put some feelers out when I swing open my front door, and … there she is. Sitting on my sofa. She has a key to my flat, so that in itself is not too strange, but I wasn’t expecting her today.
And I definitely wasn’t expecting Elias Moreno to be sitting next to her.
‘Lucy Lou,’ Mina singsongs, like everything about this is completely normal.
‘Thank God you’re here.’ She eases herself up from the sofa and gingerly embraces me.
When she lets me go, there’s a deep groove of concern between her brows.
‘What the hell happened? I called the Gazette when you didn’t answer your phone five times in a row, and Lucas said you’d quit? ’
I nod. ‘I had that meeting with Jon this morning.’
She winces as she pulls away from me. We’d spoken about it on Monday – about Jon and Amy, about the way he tried to push me to take the story in a different direction, and about how uncomfortable he’d made me feel the whole time, but particularly at the gig.
‘It went badly, I take it.’
I almost laugh. I definitely haven’t had the time to process all of this yet.
‘He said my article was bland and unprintable, then threw this trashy exposé on Bram in front of me and told me he was going to publish it in my name.’ I catch sight of Elias over Mina’s shoulder and lower my voice a little.
‘It was horrible, Meens. He knew everything.’
Her eyes narrow. ‘Urgh, what a snake.’
‘The snakiest,’ I agree with a nod. ‘So I told him I was leaving, and that if he printed a single word in my name which I hadn’t actually written, I was going to set my lawyers on him.’ I grin. It is actually kind of funny now I think about it. ‘You know, those fictional lawyers I don’t have.’
Mina bursts out laughing before she winces again and clutches at her side. ‘Lou, you absolute legend,’ she says, gritting her teeth through the pain. ‘It’s about time someone called him on his shit.’
Behind her, Elias clears his throat pointedly, and Mina rolls her eyes.
‘Oh, yeah, also, Elias is here.’ She gestures to him without looking round and I hear him grumble quietly to himself as he straightens on my sofa.
‘I don’t know why he showed up at my door and not yours,’ she says, ‘but he wants to speak to you.’