Chapter 25

"I feel more confident, that's for sure," I said into my cellphone to Cathy, trying to keep my voice down, facing the window of my cubicle. "He made me feel good about what I can do."

There was a brief silence on the phone from my best friend. "You're a grown woman, Elena, and I know you don't take guff from anyone, but I'm still worried about you. Having someone follow you..."

"We don't know for sure that's what was happening," I said.

"I know. And I know you feel better about it now, but I just want to ask you as a friend not to take any unnecessary risks."

"I promise. Thanks for caring about me Cathy."

Her voice went softer. "Of course, Elena. Now, tell me more about this hot workout Charles gave you."

"Cathy!"

"You two were wrestling and sweating all over each other..."

"Cathy!"

"Don't try to play me, Elena. I can hear it in your voice."

My mind went to how his body felt when he was pressing into my back, his arm around my shoulders and neck, about how he felt under me when I leaned over him, of his beautiful body as he walked out the door.

"I don't know what you mean," I insisted. "He is just trying to make sure his scent machine is taken care of. And I appreciate it."

"Do you think he still thinks of you like that?" Cathy asked, her voice was low and perceptive.

I paused, imagining the softness in his eyes when he looked at me. Sure, it had been right after I'd elbowed him in the gut, but still... was there something there?

"I don't know," I said honestly, worried that my voice betrayed how much I cared about it.

I glanced at the time on my computer screen. "Listen, Cath, I gotta go. Thanks for chatting."

"Love you, girl."

"Love you, too."

I hung up and quickly gathered all my notes and materials. It was time for the pitch meeting.

I had even better material this time. Maybe it had been a blessing that Sally initially rejected me. This new article I had going was so much more important.

I went into the conference room, almost unnoticed, but Sheila scooted her chair over at the table and waved at me.

I squeezed between her and another female that smelled like freshly cut grass and I had a brief, happy sensory overload sitting between Sheila's bubblegum and this new female's nature-centric scent.

The new female reached out a strong hand toward me. "I'm Matilda," she said in a friendly tone. "I'm one of Social Scene's photographers."

"Elena," I said.

"What have you got?" Sheila asked, looking at my notes. I twisted them around for her to read more easily.

Her eyebrows raised and she nodded. "You know, she may actually go for this. It seems scandalous enough to be something she'd like."

Sheila glanced around me and said, "See what I mean?" to Matilda who had begun to sniff in my direction.

She nodded with a smile. "Interesting scent, Elena."

I looked at my hands in my lap, feeling the old shame begin to creep in.

"And by interesting, I mean I love it. Very refreshing," Matilda whispered to me as Sally walked in, talking with Stan. I glanced up and we smiled at each other.

Like the last pitch meeting, we went around the table sharing our ideas. Sally listened and either gave us the go-ahead, suggested some alteration, or said no.

When it came to my pitch, I started in a way that I thought wasn't making it obvious that it was a continuation of the first time when I was rejected. I started from a different angle and began with there being a problem with the city's relationship to vulnerable children.

It didn't work. Before I got very far Sally gave me a sharp look and asked if it was the same story as last time.

"I actually uncovered a lot more negative stuff and I think I'm really on to something," I started. "The director of the orphanage wants to go off the record and ..."

Sally held up a hand. "Nope. Next!"

I felt like a deflated balloon. What could I do to make her understand this was valuable? That the well-being of children may be at stake?

Back in my cubicle I was packing up to have dinner with Charles when Stan sauntered by, Kevin right behind him.

"Hey, Elena, knock it off," Stan said, pausing at my cubicle entrance.

"What do you mean?" I said.

"You're making us all look bad, the way you're working with this so-called story you have."

"Lay off," Kevin said, but then turned to me. "He's got a point, Elena. You don't need to work like that to be successful here."

I shook my head in disbelief. "Why does no one care about this? The safety of these kids is at risk!"

Kevin looked sheepish, but Stan shook his head. "Kids are great as long as they're someone else's, but you know what's greater?"

"What?" I said, knowing it wasn't going to be nice.

"No busting your butt for no reason."

"You're pathetic," came another voice. Matilda had joined the group standing outside my cubicle. "Don't listen to these jaded jerks, Elena."

"I didn't say anything," Kevin protested.

"And if you need a photographer, I'm in," Matilda continued, as if Kevin hadn't spoken. "Just because one person here doesn't have any ethics doesn't mean we all don't."

About an hour later on the 14th floor, Charles was happily wrapping noodles around his fork when I finally burst out. "How is it not eye-catching enough?"

He paused, the noodles half way to his mouth. "What?"

I paused. He was Sally's boss. I didn't want to get her into trouble.

"Can we talk outside of work roles for a second? I don't want to start anything."

Charles paused and eyed me. "You don't like how I handle HR problems?"

I thought of Craig and the way Charles fired him the moment I'd complained, and my mouth clamped shut.

Charles sighed. "Okay. I'll try, but I can't promise anything."

"I understand Sally has a system and she makes money. You said it. It needs to be easy and eye-catching. But even Sheila said she thought my story fit the style this time. I don't know what the problem is."

"Is it tangling with the government at all?"

"The city government, yes. But I don't lead with that. I lead with scandalous conditions for kids."

Charles nodded stuffing his face with noodles. "That's why," he said through the food.

"What's why?"

Charles hesitated. After a moment, he appeared to make up his mind.

"I'm going to ask for your discretion, Elena, but maybe it will help you understand if I tell you a few things about Sal's background. I'm sure, however, that she wouldn't like to know her past is being discussed again."

"I promise it doesn't leave this room."

He nodded.

"When she was younger, Sal was one of the city's top investigative journalists. She was like a detective who could write wonderful, streamlines prose and she had a nose for corruption. She, and the paper, took down some majorly crooked players."

Charles looked at my surprised face and nodded. "It's true."

"What happened?" I said, fascinated and taking a bite of a pork bun.

"She sent a serial killer to prison."

"Wow."

"A serial killer whose father was a high-ranking government official. Still is, actually. He drummed up some false accusations and Sal ended up in jail until her lawyers and the paper could sort it out. She was completely cleared and even celebrated."

"Then what was the problem?" I asked.

"The problem was that her husband had been ill, and while she was in jail he passed away. She never got to say goodbye, and in fact, the city made it worse and swooped in and buried him in a place different than what they'd wanted."

Charles looked somber. "Sal never got over it, she loved him so much. An A+ couple, from what I understand."

I was stunned.

"It was in the papers," Charles continued. "She was all over the news for a long time when I was a kid, and I remember my dad commenting on how sad the situation was."

"So maybe you understand now. She's got strong personal motives for not letting your story go through, Elena."

I nodded. "Wow. Yes, I get it."

"Do you think another department would be interested?" I asked. "There's a great photojournalist named Matilda who wants to work with me, and maybe one of the other divisions would take the story?"

"But that's not our bet," Charles said, grinning. "You have to work for Social Scene."

"I know," I said, though in truth, I'd almost forgotten about the bet.

"She's been doing light stories for a long time now, but it this kind of work is in her past, I bet I can convince her eventually. I just have to do it in a way that doesn't trigger any of her alarms."

Charles looked deep into my eyes with his intense blue ones, and my heart began to flutter.

I wasn’t sure about why he looked at me like that, but I looked back, showing my determination.

He sighed. "If you insist on pursuing this, will you at least take that photographer along? It would be better and safer if there were two of you.”

I nodded, feeling unexpectedly warm. He hadn't told me to stop. He hadn't even told me to be careful. It was as if he had faith in me.

But there was a bet between us.

Why would he support me in this?