Cross Your Mind (An Emerson Novel Book 3)

by K L Finalley

  "It must have been quite the paper, then." Jacqueline had to right the course of their meeting.

  "It was. There were typewriters. There were men and women dressed for work in suits and ties. It was very progressive. Men and women side-by-side typing the news. It was a sight to be seen."

  "Were you a writer?"

  "Oh, no. Not yet. I was a fact checker."

  "Before the Internet," Jacqueline said.

  "Before computers." Then, they both fell silent. Jacqueline wondered what Mallory was doing, then she wondered what Mia was thinking. Then, she wondered if Taylor was a male or female; then, she wondered if it mattered. Once all of that passed through her mind, Mia continued, "Do you have anything you'd like to discuss with me?"

  "No, Mia. I think you're doing an exceptional job. As always, you bring veteran leadership to our newspaper and I know that I can depend on you to be a mentor to our younger, newer members of our staff. Thank you for your leadership."

  "You are always welcome," and she slipped out of the chair and out of her office.

  Jacqueline was exhausted and she had only performed two performance reviews. She wanted to cancel the rest of the meetings. She stood from her desk and went to the far corner of her office and stretched her back. She peered out over the news floor. Again, she searched the floor; and, again, there was no Mallory. How quickly she had forgotten. Mallory hadn't been there since mid-December, but Jacqueline hadn't given up the habit of looking for her.

  She was staring when there was a thud on her door. It sounded as if the next person stumbled into her door rather than knocked upon it. "Come on in," she said like she was at home.

  Bob, the Politics and News Editor, entered. At nearly six feet tall, he folded himself into the chair in front of her.

  "Hi, Bob. How are things today?"

  "Good."

  "Glad to hear it." She rustled her papers searching for his performance review. Unable to locate it, she remarked, "Stand by, let me print another copy of your review. I can't seem to find the one I printed earlier." The buzzing sound of the printer was the only sound in the office until she spoke. "So, how was your weekend? It was gorgeous out. Did you do anything?"

  "No."

  "Nothing?"

  "No."

  "Bob, you can't let these weekends get away from you. Before you know it, it will be too humid to go outside. You should go now. Get outside now. You know, what I mean?"

  "Yes."

  Conversation was not Bob's strong suit. "Okay, Bob. I got this thing printed. Sorry, I wasted some of your performance review time with this kind of thing. I try to be prepared, so that you can have all the one-on-one time you want or need to have with me. With that said, is there anything you would like to present?" Jacqueline asked.

  "No."

  "Have you had a chance to review my assessment of you?"

  "No."

  "No? Not at all?"

  "No."

  "Okay. Would you like for me to read it to you? Then, we can discuss any questions you may have."

  "Yes."

  Jacqueline stared at him for a second. In his faded, black slacks and blue short-sleeve button-up shirt, she thought this might be a bad idea, but she had already offered. And, so she began. Section by section, line by line, she read Bob's review. She covered attendance, working relationships, accountability, judgment, job knowledge, supervision skills, and objectives. She watched as he scratched down notes. She paused thinking that he may speak, but he never uttered a word. His face never reflected discontent or disagreement. After all, seven pages were read, she looked up and asked, "Well, do you have any questions or concerns?"

  "No."

  "Well, if you have nothing, then I will let you get back to work." As he started to rise from the chair, she feared that she might have rushed him out. She continued, "if you come up with something later, you know where to find me."

  Using his appraisal to salute, Bob tapped his forehead, turned, and walked out of her office. Jacqueline rested her face on her desk. While it was down there, she felt the desktop vibrate. Hoping it was Mallory, she snatched her cellphone up. It was not Mallory. It was an email notification from Ethan O'Neill, their financial adviser. Having read his email, she found the perfect reason to call Mallory.

  "Grant, have Nelson give me a minute," she yelled out her open door.

  "Okay, Jacqueline."

  Without haste, she called the new station. "Hi, May I speak to Mallory. Uh, Mallory Cummings."

  "And you are?" the voice asked.

  "Jacqueline."

  "From?"

  Jacqueline wanted to say home, but she didn't want to get her into trouble for calling her at work about a personal matter. So, she decided to say, "Jacqueline Emerson from Tampa Sun Tribune." In that moment, she decided that she would have Grant call in the future. Then, the voice she had wanted to hear since she left the penthouse this morning was in her ear and she was rejuvenated. When the call was over, she had shaken off the sludge from the past three reviews and was poised to carry on. "Grant, send in my next victim."

  Nelson Prime entered her office. He was wearing his blazer. A trademark. It was tweed with elbow pads. She had never seen one worn on anyone but him. He was a professor by destiny, but newspaper man by some weird accident. The smartest man in the office. The smartest man she knew. He seemed uncomfortably smart as if the very weight of his knowledge fatigued him unless he shared it with you. Then, in spewing forth the wealth of data he possessed, he appeared lighter. To her, he was a joy. She could sit and talk to him for hours. They could discuss topics from the failure of foreign films in America to the inherent problems of the globalization of Western culture. He was an intellectual delight to her, but, today, he seemed more burdened more than usual.

  "Hello, there, Nelson. How are you?"

  "Just fine, Jacqueline, " Nelson blubbered, but he hadn't seemed fine. "And you?"

  "Well, I'm doing quite well now. I'm sure you've read my review and have some grammatical errors you'd like to cite." Nelson had been the head of copywriting for years. He was a master of proofing.

  "To be honest, I haven't had the chance." She leaned back. Something was wrong. He glanced from side to side. Then, he turned backwards and looked out the glass wall.

  "Would you like for me to close the blinds?" Jacqueline arose from her desk with the intention to provide privacy to her and Nelson.

  As the blinds were closing, he uttered, "Would it be acceptable to hold my review in the conference room?"

  "Sure," she said. No one had ever requested a meeting in the conference room. Despite all her efforts as Managing Editor, it had remained forbidding. It was the place of job eliminations and downsizing announcements. Yet, Nelson felt more secure in there than in her office. He led the two of them out. Grant looked up as they passed his desk. She saw the confusion in his face as she opened the door to the conference room and entered with Nelson, but he said nothing.

  Once inside, Nelson shielded his eyes from the bright glare of sunshine. With floor-to-ceiling windows, sunlight filled the room, there was no need for artificial light. The sun had illuminated the giant mahogany table and anything placed on its top.

  "Is this better?" she asked.

  "I'm sorry for this inconvenience. I'm certain you are curious why we had to leave the comforts of your office, " Nelson remarked as he sat in the seat he chose in staff meetings.

  Taking her usual seat, at the head of the table, Jacqueline reclined in the leather chair, and said, "Well, this is an interesting turn of events. I'm hoping that you'll tell me what's going on."

  "In all honesty, I'm exhausted. I haven't been sleeping well. I had hoped to rest some tonight, but when I realized my performance review was today, there's a likelihood that I may not get any rest if I'm not careful."

  Thumbing through Nelson's review, she reassured him, "Last year was a successful year. There's nothing in here that should stop you from sleeping. I'm sorry if work has caused you any undue st
ress. If you need time off, then…"

  He touched her hand as it rested on the table. He had never touched her. She wanted to pull away, but there was an urgency, a weightiness to his touch. "No, work is what I love. This is where I want to be. It's just that…it's just that I have placed my trust in the wrong person."

  She removed her hand and sat back. With her head hoisted to the side, she squinted her eyes, "Excuse me?"

  "I don't want anyone to know about this."

  "Nelson, if you tell me this, I can't promise that. Let me explain. I am the Managing Editor of this paper. I am responsible to all of you, to the Board, and to the principles that we all hold dear. If something is going on that violates any of those, I may be required to act. You can choose not to tell me, but judging by the way you look, I need to know." She sat up tall in the leather chair. She was no longer enamored with Nelson's brain. Now, she was his boss.

  "I need you to listen to this story in its entirety. Will you do that?"

  "I promise to try."

  "As you know, I'm a bit of a recluse. My colleagues see me as peculiar."

  "I wouldn't say that. Your interests are unpopular but not peculiar."

  "They are peculiar. It's acceptable to admit that, Jacqueline," he corrected. "However, it is still pleasant to find someone who enjoys one of the hobbies you enjoy. I never expect to find a complete match, but any similarity is grounds for celebration. Therefore, when I discovered that Clementine and I shared a love for…"

  Oh, shit. Jacqueline double-blinked. Why is that bitch always in the middle of some shit? How'd she find Nelson? was what she was thinking while he was talking. When the haze cleared, she refocused on his story.

  While she wasn't listening, he had said, "space opera. She had visited my office to talk about my section of the paper and took interest in my space opera art collection. She expressed that she knew of a theater that would be having a space opera film festival. I will admit that I was excited. Perhaps, I was more excited than I should have been. Perhaps, I should have inquired into the details. Gauging my excitement, she invited me to attend with her and her friend, Tabatha."

  And, Jacqueline thought, Fuck.

  "Honored to have been invited, I offered to pay for the tickets. The next day, Clementine came to work and showed proof that the three tickets had been purchased." Nelson's head became heavy. His eyes drifted downward. "I failed to research the establishment. Yet, the following Friday, I arrived as expected. I entered without problem. I took a seat and reserved seating for Clementine and Tabatha. They joined me straight away. Within minutes of the first movie, I heard noises behind me. I wasn't certain what the noises were, but I had hoped the gentleman was settling into his seat and would quiet shortly. He did not. Then, others made noises. Soon, the noises from the crowd were louder than the film. I was…I was…I was embarrassed, Jacqueline. I hadn't expected that…kind of theater. When I looked at Clementine, she and her friend were laughing. They were laughing at me. They were laughing at my shock, at my …discomfort."

  Angry, but supportive, Jacqueline tried to comfort him. "I'm very sorry that happened, Nelson."

  He interrupted. "I am a lot of things, but I am not a prude. I left the theater. I was angry. I was not angry that such a place existed. I was angry that she wanted to embarrass me. Of course, she and her friend followed me outside. On the street corner, she teased that she brought me there hoping that I would be less uptight. She thought she was doing me a favor. I told her that I didn't need her help and left. By Monday, I decided to leave the situation in the past, but her mockery was unyielding." With his head down, he continued in whimper, "she began sending me lewd pictures of women. I did not respond. I thought that if I ignored them, they would end. Then, by the evening, she was sending lewd pictures of men. Still, I did not answer." Nelson held his face. "By midnight, there were no more texts. I thought the matter was resolved. But, it restarted on Tuesday. And, again Wednesday. And, Thursday." He stopped to wipe his brow. Staring at his nails, he said, "Friday morning, I called her to my desk and asked her to stop. I told her that I was not interested in her childish antics and wanted her to refrain from contacting me in any personal capacity. She made a hand gesture and walked away. I felt like that had worked until Saturday night."

  "What happened?"

  "She sent me this." He slid his phone across the table to her.

  There was a picture of a woman on his phone. Jacqueline strained to make out the details. Relaxing her eyes and holding it way from her a face, she saw the woman on top of a desk. The woman was naked and in a compromising position. Clementine's body was clearly visible in the photo. Once she recognized what was occurring, Jacqueline glanced and looked away, but, then, her mind told her to look again. That desk wasn't any desk. It was Nelson's desk. It was Nelson's work desk. It was Nelson's work desk at the Tampa Sun Tribune. She was overcome with an angry fever. As she chewed on the corner of her bottom lip, she rubbed her face with her left hand.

  "I think it's my desk," Nelson uttered.

  "Yes, I believe it is." Jacqueline scrolled through the text conversation. She saw the numerous indecent pictures. She saw Nelson's repeated text requests for her to stop. She saw it all. Then, she stood up from behind the table and walked to the window. Still holding his phone, she peered out over the Bay. Carefully, she counted backwards, quieting the rage that was building inside of her, as Nelson babbled something at the table.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Alexandra Stevens was the woman every woman wanted to be and every man wanted to date. She was smart, witty, funny, attractive, aware of herself, and aware of others. She could hang on her date's arm or lead someone into the party. With natural hair, she had no need for manmade products. Yet, there were times she'd wear a face full of makeup to remind the world of glamour. She defined her own standards in fashion. What was hot and popular may not have been something Alex would have worn, but what she did wear she wore well. That's the image she left when she left the Tampa Sun Tribune. That's what co-workers and clients remembered. That's what defined her. That's what troubled her most when Mallory called in December.

  Having recently returned from honeymooning in New York City, Alex was happy to return a friend's call. "Hey, Mallory."

  "Hey, there. How was New York?"

  "We had a great time. We saw shows every night. I drug Elet to all the boutiques."

  "I can't believe you got him to agree to all of that."

  "Oh my God, yes. He was amazing."

  "Well, I guess if you make an unexpected announcement about carrying his child you can get away with anything, huh?" Mallory chided.

  Laughing, Alex responded, "Ya liked that, didn't ya?"

  "I can't believe you kept it from us!"

  "I really wanted to tell everyone all the time. Then, there was one thing, then there was another. Then, another. Then, I was like fuck it, it'll be a surprise."

  "Yeah, well, it was a helluva surprise." Mallory paused. That was the perfect segue. "I have a bit of a surprise myself."

  "Can't be?" Alex got stoic.

  "What?" Mallory asked.

  "Wait, are you two..." Alex was prepared to ask.

  "Let me stop you before that rumor gets started. No, Jacqueline and I are not planning any future children. Our hands are full with Zoe. That's not a surprise. That's an omen."

  "Oh, okay. I was scared," Alex exhaled loudly.

  Mallory was offended, "Um, but we could do it. I mean, we'd be great at it."

  "But, you don't want to," Alex reiterated.

  "But, as long as you know, we could."

  "Okay, you could," Alex agreed hoping to get to the reason for the call.

  "I mean, just know," Mallory said sternly.

  "Bitch, can you focus? What's your surprise?"

  "So, listen. I know better than anyone that you left the Sun because of me. Don't say anything. I know it's true. You know, it's true. I got the job. You wanted the job. It's fine. It hurt at first, but I respe
ct you for it. I'd have done the same thing if you'd have got the job. I'd have had to. I couldn't have still been your friend and lost out on the job to you. But, I don't think you're happy at UpBeat. And, that's why I'm calling," after that speech, Mallory paused, then announced, "I'm leaving the Sun."

  "Does Jacqueline know about this?"

  "Yeah, she knows. We aren't breaking up," Mallory said. "Do you remember me going on and on about Misty getting her own talk show? The Scoop?"

  "Channel Four."

  "Right. Misty asked me to be the Program Director." Energized, Mallory jumbled her words. Alex had to listen to separate where sentences started and stopped. "I have to try! I just have to! I mean, it's TV! Right! TV! It's more money. I mean, it's so much more money! And, it's TV!" she clamored. "Jacqueline told me to go for it. So, I'm going to resign."

  Alex flared her nostrils. She and Mallory had applied for the Lifestyles Editor at the Sun when it became available. In truth, Mallory had more experience and a wider range of experience writing a variety of articles. Consequently, she received the promotion. And, she was right, Alex had to leave. She couldn't be runner-up. "Mallory, what about Hannah? She stayed on. By now, she has to be a good candidate for editor of department."

  "She'd be a good candidate if she was staying, but I'm taking her with me," Mallory replied. "But, I still think you could beat her. I don't think anyone else there could, but I think you could."

  Alex smiled at the compliment. "This is some interesting news."

  "Isn't it, though?"

  "You're my best bitch, aren't you?" Alex crossed her arms and leaned back against the couch at her new house with her new husband.

  "I am. Jacqueline will probably have the job posted in the next few days. You need to go ahead and set up an employment profile, put your resume out there, so all of that is done when the job is posted."

  "Good thinking. I should probably talk to Elet, huh?"