Chapter Twenty-Eight #3
She nods and the animosity on her face morphs to indifference. “Leave.” She waves her fingers in the direction of the door. Dismissed as suddenly as she summoned me, I’m dazed and disillusioned. What the hell just happened?
Kathy is waiting in the small reception area outside of her office and hops out of her chair as soon as I step into the hallway. She falls into step with me, brimming with barely bridled curiosity.
As soon as we’re out of earshot of her secretary, she pounces. “What did she say?” She grabs my arm and forces me to stop and face her. Her eyes are wide with anticipation.
“She hates me.” The words come out before I realize the thought has formed and I shake my head, disbelieving at how badly things spiraled just now.
She gasps. “No. She’s a hard-ass, that’s all.” She pats my arm. “You’ll win her over.”
“Maybe,” I hedge. “I’m not sure that’s possible. We got off to a bad start. First impressions are hard to overcome.”
“Oh, it was the same for me. I spilled my Hibiscus cooler all over her desk. Ruined her beautiful journal.”
I gasp. “Wow.”
“Yeah, well, I apologized, replaced the journal and got a gift certificate to the spa at the Four Seasons.”
I give her a bombastic side-eye. “That’s a lot.”
“It was. I needed her to like me. So do you. There’s no getting ahead here if she’s not in your corner. I did whatever it took to win her over because I love this brand.”
When she talked like this during our interview, she made me forget there’s no such thing as a “dream job” in corporate America.
It didn’t take me long to remember though. A job is a means to an end. The Spectator on my resume will open the doors to everything I want—long-form features and my own column. A book deal borne of a story I breathed life into.
If the only way to get ahead here is to be on Sofia’s good side, then this may not be the place for me.
If the bottom line is her red line, I’m not sure I want to be on her good side.
“Let’s grab lunch later. I’ll order something, and we can eat in my office. Have a good catch-up,” she says with a glimmer in her eye, and I know right away she’s got an update in the never-ending saga of her and the man she’s been seeing. I want to scream.
I’d rather get to know the other staff writers, for a competitive profession, journalism is also incredibly collaborative. But I need Kathy on my side if I have any hope of getting into that event.
“Okay, sounds great.” I smile as we reach my desk. I crane my neck to see if anyone’s sitting behind the dividing wall and then speak in a hushed voice. “I actually want to talk to you about the story I pitched in there.”
“What about it? Sofia shut it down.” She leans against the frame of my cubicle, arms crossed over her chest, lips pursed.
My throat tightens at her dismissal, but I press. “I know. But she’ll be going back to her end of Pennsylvania Ave. She’ll never know you ordered the press pass. And when I get the story, she’ll take credit for it herself.”
She cocks her head slightly and looks at me closely. “Sneaky aren’t you?” Her smile is more calculating than sincere.
“If I have to be. This is a rare opportunity” I bite my lip. “It’s a solid lead. If I’m right, it’ll be a huge story. Corruption all the way to the top. I just need a chance. Please.” I press my hands together not too proud to beg.
She sighs heavily and straightens. “Art theft and priceless contraband would be entertaining, I guess.” She tugs the lapels of her sharp black blazer and takes a step back and out of my space. The temperature between us falls.
“It’s more than entertain—”
“Be that at as it may, I fail to see the value in diverting you from our editorial plans. You’re not an investigative journalist anymore, remember? Stay in your lane, Sin.” She puts a hand on my arm and smiles at me like she feels sorry for me.
After how thoroughly she abandoned me in that meeting, it takes every single inch of my willpower not to yank my arm away. “I can do both. I don’t need more resources. Just access.”
My heart plummets to my toes when she shakes her head. “Even if I wanted to, it would be career suicide if she found out. She’s powerful and has a very long memory.”
“I promise she’ll never know. Kathy, please.”
She squeezes my arm and lets go. “Don’t worry, kiddo. You’ve got time to make a name for yourself. Do the work, then go for the glory.”
“You’re right,” I say so she’ll stop talking.
We say our goodbyes, and as I watch her walk away, I begin formulating my story for canceling lunch.
Kathy is a conundrum. She was so excited about hiring me but all she’s approved for me to write is fluff.
I started to suspect she was sabotaging me but dismissed the thought because we’re friends.
I’m not sure that’s true. The last thing I want to do is alienate her any more than I already have.
I have two days to figure out how to get her to change her mind.
I can’t let this go. I need to think and strategize.
I grab my coat and head for the one place I know I’ll find an open ear.