Chapter Twenty-Eight #2
“Well, your belief isn’t going to save us in a defamation suit.” Disappointment slices through me like a knife to the gut and the backs of my eyes burn.
Asshole editors in chief aren’t anything new. But the dressing down in front of the entire newsroom is.
Heat creeps up my neck, and I don’t shift my weight, but I don’t want her to see me sweat.
I push my emotion aside and put on my combat gear—my unshakeable faith in myself.
“No, but my extensive research will.” I flip open the file in front of me.
“I only knew this person by the moniker they use to sign off on the communications I was able to access from several well-placed sources in law enforcement. Now I know their real name, and that they will be in DC for an event on Saturday. It’s VIP, by invite only. Except of course the press pass.”
“How do you know he’ll be there?” Sofia interrupts my breathless monologue with an unreadable expression on her face.
“I have a source who has direct knowledge of their attendance.” I dodge the trap set by her use of a male pronoun, and her snide smile compresses into a pinched, tight-jawed sneer.
My training has taught me to keep thinking even when my body’s instinctive response to perceived danger turns me into a bundle of quivering nerves and roiling insides.
Her raptor-like focus and over-the-top interrogation is a tell.
I’m sure of it, but of what, I don’t know.
I catch myself chewing my lip and force my jaw to relax.
She leans forward, her eyes keen on me. “Is your source from the venue or from this person’s organization?”
“Why is that relevant?”
Something flickers across her face before an angry frown wipes it away.
“It speaks to the reliability of your tip. But you’re right.
It is irrelevant.” She folds her hands in front of her and the cold satisfaction I detect in her eyes tells me everything before she turns her attention back to my editor.
“Kathy, you’ll need more before you can justify issuing a press pass for an event like this. If he’s invited, I assume he’s someone with power and connections. We can’t afford to piss anyone like that off right now for a story that’s not important.”
My stomach falls. “I can show you my research, the articles about the pieces that were missing from the batch that made its way from New York. I’ve seen the ring, and I know he’s the person who sold it.”
Sofia holds up a hand to silence me.
“I’ll remind you that you are a lifestyle reporter.”
“Yes, but—”
“Stay in your lane.”
I’m still seething when the meeting is adjourned. I gather my things and focus on getting out of this room.
“Arsinoé, I’d like you to stay.” This comes not from my boss but Sofia herself.
I freeze half over my seat, my hands bracing the arms of the chair, and my mind goes blank.
“Okay,” I say and lower myself back down.
I glance at Kathy, my eyes wide with alarm.
She grimaces, gives her shoulders a tiny shrug, and she mouths “sorry” before she hurries out of the room.
I take a deep breath and remind myself that Sofia is one of the reasons I wanted to work at this paper.
This is an opportunity to fix the terrible first impression I’ve made.
She’s sitting in her chair, arms crossed, watching me. I plaster a contrite, warm smile on my face and when she doesn’t say anything decide to show some initiative and break the ice.
“I’m so sorry about my outburst, Sofia. I’ve been so eager to meet you—”
“Oh, I’m sure you have. I can smell your ambition.” She speaks in a neutral voice, but there’s no mistaking her comment for a compliment.
I clear my throat, desperate to break the ice. “Umm. Well, it’s because my family is from Ghana, too.”
She sharpens her gaze and gives me an assessing once-over. “I was sure you’d married into that last name.”
I resist the urge to roll my eyes and nod. “I know I don’t really look it, and my name is Egyptian, and my last name is European. But yes, both of my parents are from Kumasi.”
She scoffs and tilts her head, a frown creating brackets around her mouth.
“And? Do you think that means something here? The news doesn’t care if we’re friends.
It cares if we write stories that make people want to pay us to read them.
I don’t know how Kathy runs this team, but in my organization, a cute and clever routine doesn’t mean shit. ”
I can’t stop my incredulous laugh before it escapes me.
Her eyes narrow. “Something funny?”
I sober instantly. “Not, not at all.”
“You want to make a name for yourself, try walking humbly before you try to run.”
I wish the floor would swallow me whole, and I can’t find a single word to say that wouldn’t get me fired on the spot. I keep my simmering anger below the surface and force myself to look diminished. That is clearly her goal, and I’m fine to let her think she’s accomplished it. “Understood.”
“You came in here loud and overly confident because you wanted my attention. Well, you got it, and I am not impressed.”
Me neither, bitch. “I’m sorry to hear that.”