avery shaw 08 - misprints & mistakes

by lee, amanda m

“So, Eliot’s working for you now?” Derrick challenged.

  “He keeps a tab of things I have to work off,” I said, realizing my mistake when it was too late to tug the words back into my mouth. Jake and I put our relationship behind us long ago, but he didn’t like hearing about my “fun time” with Eliot, especially because he and Eliot shared a past that didn’t involve me. It was a balancing act, and I worried I’d just upset the balance.

  “You’re gross,” Derrick said.

  “You are gross,” Jake said, flicking my ear. He didn’t appear bothered by my statement. “You can wait five minutes, though. The conference won’t take long, and I’m already going to have to listen to crap because you scooped everyone yesterday.”

  “That’s not your fault,” I pointed out. “That happened because Carly made me go into the torture store.”

  “Yes, I heard about Carly,” Jake said, smirking. “I also heard she’s making you the godmother. Has she suffered a head injury recently?”

  I made an exaggerated face. “You’re so funny.”

  “She knows you can’t be trusted to watch the kid, right?” Jake asked. “Heck, the kid is going to be old enough to babysit you before you’re mature enough to babysit it.”

  “I don’t have to take this abuse,” I said, crossing my arms over my chest. “I was having a perfectly nice day until I had to put up with you jerkoffs.”

  “That’s because your boyfriend is a pervert and you manipulate him into doing things for you with sexual favors,” Derrick said. “There’s a word for that. Do you want to know what it is?”

  “Not really.”

  “It’s called prostitution.”

  “Huh,” I mused, making a big show of feigning deep thought. “There’s also a word for a guy who is so afraid of his girlfriend he keeps things from his favorite cousin. Do you want to know the word for that?”

  Derrick’s eyes darkened. “No.”

  “It’s whipped,” I said. I made the accompanying sound and flicked my wrist because I knew it would irritate him. “Eliot may be a pervert, but he’s not whipped.” I made the noise and motion again.

  “Seriously,” Jake lamented. “I feel unbelievably old around the two of you.”

  5

  By the time we got to the multimedia room for the news conference all of the regular southeastern Michigan media faces were on display, including Derrick’s annoyingly perky television trollop Devon. She caught sight of us first, and the look on her face promised mayhem instead of snuggles when she got Derrick alone later.

  “Great,” Derrick grumbled, averting his eyes. “She’s going to kill me.”

  I made the whip-cracking sound again and darted under Jake’s arm to make sure he was between us before Derrick could react.

  “Jake is not going to save you,” Derrick said. “I know where you live. I know where you’ll be Friday night. I know all of your deepest and darkest secrets.”

  “Yes, but you have to put on a good face in front of the public because you’re a sheriff’s deputy,” I pointed out. “I’m already the laughingstock of the county. They expect me to do odd things. I have way more on you than you do on me.”

  “Knock it off,” Jake said, grabbing the back of my neck and snapping me back when I moved to pretend I was cracking an invisible whip again. “Why do you feel the need to do these things?”

  I shrugged. “I have no idea,” I said. “It has been suggested that I might be crazy.”

  “Who suggested that?” Jake asked.

  “Who didn’t?” Derrick challenged.

  “My mother thinks I’m crazy,” I said. “She told Eliot that she hopes he marries me one day because that means he’ll have to be the one to commit me when I finally go round the bend.”

  Jake snickered. “I guess I never thought of that,” he said. “I … um … are you and Eliot talking about getting married?”

  It was a loaded question, and I couldn’t help but stiffen when he asked it. Even Derrick forgot our feud and focused on his boss.

  “We’re not talking about getting married,” I said.

  Jake almost looked relieved. I couldn’t figure out why. He’d moved on with a woman who seemed halfway decent. Cara was very sweet. Sure, I think she has a weird fascination with me and she might be a Stepford wife in her free time, but otherwise she’s very pleasant. Fine. I can’t stand her and I hope Jake dumps her. What? I want him to be happy, but I would feel better about things if he decided he was gay – or didn’t need a woman to ever be happy. That’s what’s best for me, so I’m holding out hope he’ll decide it’s what’s best for him, too.

  “They can’t get married yet,” Derrick scoffed. “Eliot is bound to come to his senses and realize Avery is a walking calamity sooner or later. It’s only a matter of time.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “Excuse me?”

  “Didn’t he just throw her a Star Wars Valentine’s Day party?” Jake asked.

  “So?” Derrick missed the point of Jake’s question.

  “I don’t think you go out of your way to do something like that if you plan to walk away,” Jake said quietly. “You should leave Avery and Eliot alone. They seem happy. You don’t like it when she messes with your relationship with Devon. Why is it okay for you to mess with Eliot?”

  “He doesn’t do it when Eliot is around,” I said. “He’s afraid Eliot will pop him one.”

  “I am not,” Derrick protested.

  “You are so.”

  “I am not!”

  “You are so!”

  “Knock it off,” Jake said, extending his index finger and whipping it back and forth in the space between Derrick and me. “This is unbelievable. You’re acting like children.”

  “I blame him,” I said, crossing my arms over my chest.

  “Yes, because you have no part in this immature display, right?” Jake’s patience was obviously fraying.

  “I’m glad you see things my way,” I said, leaning over and resting my head against his shoulder for a moment. The gesture was meant to be playful, and when I batted my eyes at Jake he couldn’t keep from laughing.

  “You’re unbelievable,” Jake muttered, although he didn’t move to pull away.

  “Um … am I interrupting something?”

  Jake and I stiffened at the sound of Cara’s voice, jerking apart as if we were drops of cold water splashed on a hot griddle.

  “What are you doing here?” Jake asked, fixing Cara with a worried look. “I … we were just screwing around.”

  “I noticed,” Cara said, bobbing her head and shifting her frozen smile to me. “How are you, Avery?”

  “I’m good,” I answered, exchanging a dubious look with Derrick. He looked as clueless as I felt. “I’m still with Eliot, by the way.” I have no idea why I said it. I know people blurt out strange things in tense situations, but that was probably the worst thing to say at this moment.

  “Okay,” Cara said, her face unreadable.

  “I don’t understand why you’re here,” Jake said, taking another step toward Cara and increasing the distance between him and me. “I can’t go to lunch until this conference is over and all the individual interviews have been conducted. That’s going to be at least an hour and a half.”

  “I understand that,” Cara said, her tone clipped. “I thought I could make a few calls from your office for work and then we could have lunch together. I see now that you’re busy, though.”

  “I’m not busy,” Jake said.

  “He’s so not busy,” I added. “I was busy this morning. With Eliot, though, not with Jake. Never with Jake. Well, not never. There was some busy stuff in high school. What were we talking about again?”

  “You’re really good under pressure,” Derrick deadpanned, rolling his eyes. He was enjoying himself. That lasted until Devon moved to his side.

  “Hello, Avery,” Devon said, causing Derrick’s spine to stiffen when he realized how close she was.

  “Hello, Devon,” I said, pressing my lips togeth
er as my gaze bounced between Cara and Devon. This was like the worst chick showdown ever. Any second now things were going to turn all Real Housewives of Atlanta and people were going to start pulling hair and losing acrylic fingernails. “How are you this fine spring day?”

  “Are you high or something?” Devon asked, clearly trying to catch me off guard.

  “No, but I’d really like to be,” I said. “Speaking of that, if I claim I have anxiety can one of you guys push through a medical marijuana card for me, by any chance?” I smiled at Jake and Derrick in turn.

  “Do you think that’s funny?” Jake asked.

  “Pretty much,” I said. “Anything is better than continuing the conversation we were having sixty seconds ago.”

  “And why is that?” Cara asked, the look on her face hateful enough to turn my innards to stone.

  “Because you’re making me feel uncomfortable,” I replied, refusing to back down. “I get that Devon hates me, and she kind of has a right to do it because I’m mean to her whenever I get the chance.”

  “I’m glad you admit it,” Devon sniffed.

  “She’s also jealous because I’m ten times the reporter she is,” I added. This would be another example of being mean to her when it wasn’t necessary. “You, however, keep giving me that wounded puppy look, and I don’t know how to deal with it. We weren’t doing anything, yet you’re acting like as if we were. It bothers me.”

  Jake’s mouth dropped open. “You just don’t know when to shut your mouth, do you?”

  “I know when to shut it,” I argued. “I choose not to shut it because … well … I don’t want to. It’s not my fault she’s insecure.”

  “I am not insecure,” Cara said. “I’m trying really hard to get to know you and be your friend. You keep putting up walls between us, and I can only believe that’s because you want Jake back.”

  “Please don’t tell my boyfriend that,” I deadpanned. “He might not take it well. Shh.” I lifted a finger to my lips and mimed shushing Cara. I was going for levity. I was fairly certain it came off as insulting.

  “Well done,” Derrick said.

  “Don’t get involved in this,” Devon chided. “I love watching Avery get taken down a notch.”

  “Yes, Devon,” Derrick said, sighing.

  I made the whip-cracking sound again, causing Derrick to scowl and Jake to press his eyes shut as his shoulders shook with silent laughter.

  “Why is that funny?” Cara asked, chasing the smile from Jake’s face.

  “We all grew up together,” Jake said. “We have a certain … rapport. Avery has a way of making people crazy. She’s managed to derange four of us in five minutes flat. That has to be some kind of record.”

  “And you’re not bothered by any of this?” Cara asked.

  “No,” Jake said, unruffled. “I am bothered that you seem bothered even though absolutely nothing was going on, but … other than that I’m fine.”

  “I see,” Cara said. “May I use your office to make some phone calls while you’re running your conference?”

  “Of course.”

  “Great,” Cara said, her demeanor robotic. “Avery, it was a great pleasure seeing you again. I’m positive I’ll see you again soon.”

  “Of course you will,” I replied. “If I didn’t have bad luck I wouldn’t have any luck at all.”

  “Avery,” Jake hissed, pinching my arm. “Knock it off.”

  “This is really immature,” Devon said.

  “I agree,” Derrick added.

  This time Jake and I made the whip-cracking sound in unison, causing Cara to jerk back around before she walked out the door.

  I honestly make friends wherever I go. I don’t know how I haven’t been voted most popular reporter in the world yet.

  “WELL that was excruciating.” I turned to The Monitor’s photographer, Jared Jackson, and made a face. “I can’t believe they had a conference for that instead of just sending out a news release.”

  “It’s a missing child,” Jared said. “They have to look like they’re doing something, even though there’s not much they can do.”

  The conference consisted of witness reports involving a white van leaving the mall shortly before lockdown. A woman in the parking lot at the time said she couldn’t be certain, but she believed she saw a man wrestling a girl into the van.

  That was all the information they had, which was disappointing.

  “Did you get everything you need?” Jake asked, moving to my side as he scanned the room. Most of the other reporters were gathering their things or had already left.

  “I did,” I acknowledged. “You could’ve sent out a release with this information. You didn’t need a news conference. You know that, right?”

  “We wanted to make sure that the public was on the lookout for white vans,” Jake said.

  “The public is always on the lookout for white vans,” I said. “We’ve been trained to think only perverts and strange guys giving out candy to little children buy white vans. Everyone is suspicious of a guy in a white van.”

  “Do you have to be a pain?” Jake challenged.

  “And on that note … I’m out of here,” Jared said, offering a head nod to Jake before rolling his eyes in my direction. “I’m sure you can handle this.” He didn’t sound sincere.

  I was sure he was gay and talked graphically about female genitalia as a cover, although I didn’t say that out loud, so we both had issues with sincerity when dealing with the other. “Try not to hit on any dudes on your way out,” I called to his back. What? I have no problem with gay people. I like them better than straight people most of the time, as a matter of fact. Jared bugs me, though. I like getting under his skin.

  “You have the worst way with people of anyone I’ve ever met,” Jake said. “Despite that, you manage to always get your story and inspire loyalty in people. How do you do it?”

  “I’m really a witch,” I replied. “Why are you sticking so close to me when Cara is in your office? This will only make her more suspicious.”

  “Is that even possible after your mouth got away with you again this morning?”

  Wait … was he blaming me for this? “Hey, ban your girlfriend from surprise drop-ins and this won’t happen again,” I said. “This is not my fault.”

  “Everything is your fault,” Jake shot back. “She’s going to be a whiny pain. I just know it.”

  “You picked her,” I said. “I have to get going. I need lunch and have to file a story.”

  “Do you have suggestions for how I should handle Cara?” Jake asked.

  “Much like you, I’m usually the one in trouble,” I said. “I find that distracting Eliot with sex and food almost always works.”

  “That’s because he’s a guy,” Jake argued.

  “Then distract her with roses and chocolate,” I suggested. “Take her out to a nice dinner. Wave something shiny in her face. Whatever you do, don’t stand up for me. Say something nasty about me. Women like that. She’ll think you’re on her side if you badmouth me.”

  “I can’t do that,” Jake said, jerking his hand through his hair.

  “Because you’re one of the idiots loyal to me despite my mouth,” I said, eliciting a snort from Jake. “You can only do what you can do. If she doesn’t believe you, then you have to move on. You can’t make someone trust you. It’s not possible.”

  “Do you think Eliot trusts you?”

  That was a good question. “I think Eliot trusts you,” I said finally. “He knows I’m flaky and out there, but he also knows I’m not a cheater. You’re a good guy, though. He knows you would never move in on someone else’s turf because you’re much too stalwart. That’s why Eliot doesn’t get worked up about this stuff any longer.”

  “Any longer?” Jake was intrigued. “Did he used to get jealous?”

  “He was jealous when we first got together, but he got over it on his own,” I replied. “He’s rational, though. I’m not sure Cara is rational. She thinks l
ike a needy chick.”

  “And what do you think like?” Jake asked.

  “The smartest woman in the world,” I answered, not missing a beat.

  “And now I need to take my leave so I don’t throw up,” Jake muttered. “Show yourself out and don’t get in trouble. I’ll talk to you later.”

  “Good luck.”

  6

  By the time I got back to The Monitor I managed to put Jake’s woes behind me and focus on Sierra Jackson’s disappearance. There was so much about the case I couldn’t wrap my mind around, and most of it stemmed from the same place. I could not understand how Sierra managed to disappear from a busy mall without anyone seeing her. Even stranger was her failing to show up on any of the mall’s other security cameras. That had to be virtually impossible, which meant someone either planned it or got incredibly lucky. Neither outcome bode well for Sierra. I needed more information on her.

  I breezed through the lobby, offering the secretary a half-hearted wave, and didn’t stop until I hit the newsroom. Most people think a newsroom is some sleek place like they see on CNN on election night. They couldn’t be more wrong. Newsrooms are gritty, dirty and full of foul-mouthed loners. They’re also breeding grounds for crazy people. I should know. I fit right in.

  “Did you get anything good at the news conference?” The Monitor’s managing editor, Fred Fish, perched at his desk, his hands clasped behind his balding head as he leaned back in his chair. I couldn’t decide whether he was relaxing or plotting the downfall of mankind. I was honestly on the fence about which I preferred.

  “Not really,” I replied. “There’s a possible white van, but you know how that goes.”

  “Every pervert in the free world drives a white van,” Fish supplied.

  “I drive a white van.” The religion editor, Caleb Crumb, shambled over. “I’m not a pervert.”

  Caleb wore a fur hat with flaps in the middle of summer. I wasn’t sure he didn’t have bigger problems than perversion.

  “I hear you go down to the courthouse several times a week to read the sexual assault cases,” I said. “I think that’s pretty perverted.”

  Caleb was affronted. “I’m a crusader for justice.”