Dirty Headlines

by Shen, LJ

  “When you least expect it, eh?”

  I would’ve asked what he meant, had I cared. “Out,” I said instead.

  “Sixteen, by the way.” He pushed himself up, groaning.

  “Huh?”

  “You asked me how many pairs of Chucks she has. I counted. At least sixteen.”

  That’s a lot of fucking moods for one tiny thing.

  Shortly after sending Dan on his way, I waltzed out of my office and into the newsroom. Grilling Jude about my Dad was tempting, but I wasn’t a hypocrite, and she didn’t owe me shit.

  Besides, it was likely she already felt extra salty after what had happened with Lily, and she had enough on her plate without having my dirty laundry to sort through. I was going to talk to Kate about an item I wanted to scrap from the show tonight when Steve blocked my way to her desk, throwing his body between us like a hysterical mother in front of a speeding car.

  Big. Fucking. Mistake, Dudebro.

  “Can I help you?” I raised an eyebrow.

  “I have something you really wanna see, Célian.”

  “Please, call me Mr. Laurent. Only my friends call me Célian. Chances are I’ll stab myself in the eye with a fork before initiating a conversation with you about non-professional issues. Start talking.”

  I followed him to his desk, and he pointed at his screen, his smile oozing stupidity in a way I didn’t know was physically possible.

  “Look.”

  To me, it looked like a picture of a random, middle-aged chick trying to sit on a cucumber.

  “Are you sharing your porn stash with me, Steve? Because A, my taste is a little more conservative, and B, it is strictly forbidden to access erotic websites in this building.”

  “She’s the vice president of Together Forever, a non-profit organization for people with ADHD. Got caught doing this salacious act at her bachelorette party.” Steve cackled, his smug smile screaming jackpot.

  “Here’s the part where you tell me why I should care.” I began to sort through emails on my phone, losing patience.

  “Because…because…look what she’s doing!” He cried out, pointing at his screen. “She’s legit trying to fit a cucumber into her vag.”

  I turned around and walked away. This wasn’t an item. It wouldn’t even be an item if she was a legitimate celebrity. That was Gary and Ava’s jurisdiction. But it highlighted the fact that right now, Steve was using a lot of space, resources, and oxygen that should have been offered to someone more capable than him. Kate was already standing up when I approached, her flame-red bob appearing sharper than usual.

  “He’s impossible.” She pretended to puff on her pen. Ever since she’d stopped smoking, she did that with everything from Sharpies to asparagus stalks.

  “My dog can do a better job than him.” I braced my hands over her desk. “And I don’t even have one. A word?”

  “Oh, no. Smells like a canned item in the making.” Kate and I walked to the conference room, and I shot a look at Judith to see if she’d followed us with her eyes the way I followed her everywhere she went in the office. She was typing away, looking at her monitor. Kate caught my ogling and smirked. I rarely spared my employees a look. Her eyes joined mine on Jude.

  Did I fuck up by not giving Jude a heads-up about my situation? Yes. But did I think my one-night stand was going to end up being my employee? Hell no.

  “She is pretty.” Kate leaned her head over my shoulder. I shrugged.

  “Arguing with that would imply that I’m blind, which I’m not.”

  “She’s also kind, smart, and funny. A natural in the newsroom.”

  “Get to the point sometime this calendar year, please.”

  “You’ve got it hard for her, Célian.”

  Kate ran a hand over my shirt, and I had to clear my throat, because this was wrong on so many levels I couldn’t even begin to count them. My job was to expose unethical behavior and bring factual news to the table. I wasn’t going to piss all over it for a girl with feline eyes and hair like yellow autumn leaves. Not to mention, to most people in the world, I was an engaged man. But not to Kate. She knew my story, all of it. Which was why she refused to speak to my father under any circumstances.

  “Can’t do anything about it.” I tapped away on the table I leaned against.

  “You can if it’s consensual. People fall in love at their workplace all the time. It’s not against the law.”

  “I’m her boss. Also the devil spawn of the owner.”

  “An owner who is actively trying to get into her pants.” Kate raised a finger, pointing it out.

  “Precisely. Besides…” I rubbed my face. “Lily.”

  “Break up with her. Call off the engagement. And don’t give me the Newsflash Corp bullshit. It’s about time.”

  “Like hell I will. My father would have a fucking field day if I give up the only leverage I have on him.”

  Ever since my baby sister died, I’d become even more career driven. My eyes were on the prize and had never shifted—until Judith walked into this building. Lily Davis had an influential father and her siblings had both given up on their family business. Lily was going to inherit Newsflash Corp, and her family was a shareholder at LBC, with as much as ten percent. So joining their family meant I could overthrow every decision my father had made, if I combined their shares with my mother’s. The merger between LBC and Newsflash Corp was going to make me one of the biggest tycoons in the world once my father stepped down.

  Which was why he’d done what he did and ruined what little promise I had left going on in my life.

  “Irrelevant. Your father is a douche and his feelings toward what you do, or lack thereof, should not determine your choices.”

  I hated that Kate was the voice of reason. I also hated that she was pretty much the only friend I had who I was certain wouldn’t stab me in the back the minute I turned around. I was short on friends, seeing as I trusted no one, including my fucking coffee machine.

  “As for your world-domination aspirations…” She raised her hand to pat my cheek, clucking her tongue. “Grow up, Célian. What’s the point of being powerful if you’re miserable?”

  I changed the subject, because none of it mattered. I wasn’t throwing away my plans, nor my idiotic fiancée. Judith was…Judith. Undoubtedly beautiful, not in the way women in magazines were, but in a way that makes you want to mark her with your teeth, tongue, and piss if need be. Hardworking and smart. There was a chance—albeit a small one—that if I broke things off with Lily and told Judith the entire story, she would still be willing to give the enemies-with-benefits thing a chance. And Kate was right. A consensual affair in the workplace wasn’t unheard of.

  But we weren’t going to be lovers.

  We were going to be two people fucking each other into submission, and a fuck—no matter how good—wasn’t worth my entire future.

  I fell to my seat, noticing that Steve was throwing a fit and yelling at Jessica in the middle of the newsroom. Jude hurried over to them, took Jessica’s hand, and led her away.

  “We’re canning the flammable cellphone item,” I told Kate distractedly. She punched the desk between us, then noiselessly yelled at the pain. “I knew you’d do that.”

  “Get everyone in the conference room. Now.”

  Five minutes later, everyone was inside, including a solemn Jessica and a defiant Judith. Kate was outside, on a quick phone call.

  “We need a new item to close up the show. At this point I’ll take anything. A feature. A kicker. A piece about anything that’s not completely stupid. Brainstorm away.” I tapped my finger over the chrome conference table.

  Everybody looked at their digital devices, typing text messages to their sources and generally being productive. Steve, however, sat with his arms crossed and sulked like a toddler in the midst of a tantrum.

  “Got it! A pop star with an American passport was just murdered in a strip club in Korea.” Kate swung the door open and walked into the fishbowl meeting ro
om, still staring at her phone.

  “Steve, I know you like a good gossip. Can you follow that up?” Kate was already texting her source.

  “Sure. North or South?” He scratched his head with the tip of his pen.

  The silence that followed his question almost made my ears bleed. He thought there were strip clubs in North Korea?

  That was it.

  I was done.

  “Out of my newsroom. Now.”

  “But—”

  “Another word, and you won’t be working anywhere on this street for the rest of your life.”

  “I just—”

  “Manhattan.”

  “Mr. Laurent! I—”

  “You’ve just been blacklisted in the entire city of New York.”

  “Please!”

  “Correction: state.”

  “I didn’t…” Steve darted up from his chair with his arms stretched wide, looking left and right for support. Unfortunately for him, he’d managed to piss off my entire staff in the two months he’d been here.

  “Steve, you are on the verge of metaphorical deportation. What’s not to understand? Get the hell out. Humphry, you’re replacing him as a slightly less junior reporter starting two minutes ago. And since Jessica is hard on the Wall Street item, you’re taking over the pop star coverage.”

  The only thing I had in mind was to get someone with a functioning brain to write me the report, and fast, because all my reporters were drowning in work, and Steve obviously couldn’t scratch his own head without cutting it off. I didn’t favor her in any way because I wanted into her pants. I also knew she would die before getting ahead in the game by giving head.

  Steve growled, throwing his hands in the air and stalking out of the conference room. He collected his crap from his station and dumped his employee card in the trash can by the door, which was technically against the company rules, but didn’t put a damper on the fact I’d finally gotten rid of him.

  “Me?” Jude looked up, her green-brown-golden irises dilating. It was excitement, I think, and it made me so fucking hard I was surprised I didn’t tilt up my side of the table.

  “Jessica will help you with whatever you need.”

  Jessica nodded, squeezing Judith’s hand. “Of course. I’m here for you, JoJo.”

  JoJo shot up from her seat. “I will not let you down, sir.”

  I know, and hell if that doesn’t make me harder than an oak tree.

  I was so used to people fucking up that having someone constantly step up their game was a disappointment in itself. She was the kind of good I’d only seen one person exhibit proudly. And that was Camille.

  Fuck. Where did that come from?

  “Back to work, everyone.” I collected my things and opened the glass door, motioning for people to leave. I expected Judith to do what they all did when I promoted them. Stop. Thank me. Melt into a puddle at my feet. Alas, Miss Humphry merely passed me on her way back to her station, not sparing me so much as a glance.

  In a moment of madness, I decided to go the stupid route and touched her back ever-so-briefly. She turned around, cocking an eyebrow.

  “Tomorrow. Lunch.” The room was empty, so why did it feel like I was suggesting I ravage her on James Townley’s desk during primetime, tinting her ass red with my open palm?

  “I’ll be busy,” she said flatly.

  “This will be a professional meeting regarding your new position.” Probably should have started with that. Idiot.

  “And I will still be busy. Whatever you need from me, I am happy to talk about it right here, in the office. Now, I have an assignment to do. Will that be all, sir?”

  I let her walk away, briefly wondering when the tables had turned. She’d started as a nameless dirty fuck, and had somehow dug her way out of that compromising position. The girl who’d stolen from me was now getting a promotion, getting me to do my own dry cleaning, and sassing back.

  Yeah, I don’t think so.

  Jude grabbed her phone and started dialing, already flipping her recorder on and connecting it to her cell.

  “Hello, my name is Jude Humphry, and I’m a reporter at LBC’s Daily Newsnight. I’m calling about the unfortunate and untimely death of Sung Min Chae…”

  I looked down, and I was still hard.

  I think I’d changed my mind about Chucks after all.

  She deserved a few more fucks before I stopped giving any about her.

  “Go shorty, it’s your item.

  We gonna party like it’s your item,

  And you know we don’t give a fuck it’s actually Kate’s item…”

  Grayson was twerking on his stool by the bar, sipping his Bacardi and generally acting like a cheerleader in a horror flick mere seconds before she gets chopped into lamb kabobs. Ava knocked back her third martini, fluffing her thick black curls and staring at me from behind the rim of her empty glass. They were both celebrating my first real journalistic accomplishment. Even when I’d pointed out that someone had died and maybe we should hold off the celebrations, they weren’t convinced.

  “That pop star tried to rape a chick,” Gray pointed out. “We are allowed to celebrate.”

  “Sure you don’t want anything to eat?” Ava quirked a brow. “You look a little pale.”

  We were at Le Coq Tail across the street from the office. I was dying for that roast beef sandwich. In reality, I was drinking a glass of tap water and faking a headache, because I couldn’t afford anything more, and maybe it was my poor girl’s pride, but I couldn’t stomach anything Ava and Gray were going to pay for, even though I knew they’d be delighted to treat me after I’d successfully fulfilled my first assignment.

  Seeing as I’d kept mum about my situation with my dad and my debt, they both bought into my migraines excuse. Watching them get drunk and talk about their weekend plans—all of them involving spending money—sent jealousy nibbling at the corners of my gut.

  “I want Grayson to stop singing 50 Cent. Can you make that happen?” I took a small drink of my water.

  “Unfortunately, no.” Ava shook her head. “But I can tell you he’s one drink away from passing out, so the singing will be over soon. Are you coming with us to The Met tomorrow? We’re going to check out the Indonesian restaurant they wrote about in Timeout afterwards.”

  I wish I could, but I’m probably going to help my father crawl into the shower, then argue with service providers on the phone to try to get them to give me more time to pay.

  “Got plans with my dad. Maybe next time.”

  Jesus had probably kept good on his word to keep God updated about all of my sins, because, of all the songs in the world, “Promiscuous” by Nelly Furtado and Timbaland blasted through the room. The place was bustling, and the scent of stale tap beer, deep-fried everything, and urban stench clung to our clothes.

  Grayson was hiccupping and talking at the same time, and I tuned him out to people-watch, until he said, “Oops, Jude, yorbassazarr.”

  “What?” I shouted over the music.

  “Your. Boss. Is. Here!” He yelled into my ear. “And he is looking fifty shades of great.”

  Grayson, I’d discovered, had the tendency to be cheesier than a Taco Bell enchilada when he was drunk.

  “Where?” Ava looked around.

  “Three stools down.”

  I craned my neck, my face heating before I’d even spotted his broad back, still clad in the ink black textured wool YSL jacket he’d had on in the office. There was nothing saint-like about what this Laurent was doing, though. Even with his back to me, I could see the woman he was talking to clearly. She ran a pale-pink clawed finger down her neck, giggling like a schoolgirl, and purred at something he had said. Célian must have been in top form, because whatever came out of his mouth next caused her to have to right herself by clinging to his shoulders, she laughed so hard. They shared a quick, intimate hug, and I was a witch, burning at the stake from the inside, wanting to break free from whatever spell he’d put over me that made me feel
so completely and unbelievably miserable.

  Beautiful. She was beautiful, with hair a shade darker than his, sapphire-blue eyes, and a sunkissed tan. Célian obviously had a type, and it wasn’t a dirty blond, hazel-eyed woman who dressed like a headmistress in a British movie from the fifties, except with Chucks. Purple today, by the way. Dignity and pride. But I had a feeling I was about to lose both.

  “Earth to Jude?” Grayson slurred, elbowing me in the chest.

  Ouch. I shot him a dirty look. “Yeah?”

  “Is it just me, or does it look like he’s flirting with another woman?”

  “I don’t care.” I jutted my chin out.

  “Yeah, we didn’t think you would. But his fiancée might.” Ava blinked, staring at me like I was a weirdo.

  Which I was. Of course they’d meant Lily and not me. Suddenly, I felt very tired and very hungry—like the air was dense with misery, soaked with toxins. Every breath was lethal. I grabbed Gray’s Bacardi and tossed it back in one gulp, then slammed it against the bar. “My headache is getting out of control. I’m going to the restroom to wash my face and pop some Advils. Be right back.”

  I wobbled my way on a path to the ladies room, which took me by Célian and the mystery brunette. Once I was close enough to them, I slowed my pace, hearing them speak in French. The words rolled off of their tongues, and my vindictive heart nearly burst into flames. Here he was, pulling the same old trick he’d used on me while his fiancée was sitting at home, making plans, dreaming about their future. Fake or not, he was still in a relationship. Parading with women in bars was in bad taste.

  Since I didn’t actually need to pee, I settled for pacing in the bathroom, stewing in my own anger.

  Did I need my job?

  Yes.

  Was I excited to be working in a newsroom?

  More than anything else in the world.

  I still hadn’t told my college friends, but I knew they were going to go crazy when they heard the job I’d snagged at LBC. None of that mattered right now, though, and maybe it was the Bacardi I’d gulped on an empty stomach, but confronting him seemed like a terribly good idea.