“Okay.” Eliot pressed a kiss against my forehead before resting his cheek there. “Do you want me to buy you breakfast before work?”
“I’m fine with cereal.”
“I’ll buy you breakfast,” Eliot said. “I need the fuel and I don’t feel like cooking.”
I shifted so Eliot had no choice but to meet my gaze. His eyes were red-rimmed and bags pooled beneath them. “Did you sleep last night?”
“I slept fine.”
That was clearly a lie. “Eliot, please tell me you weren’t up all night worrying about what you said to me,” I prodded. “I told you we’re fine. I meant it. We’re fine.”
“I wasn’t worrying about what I said to you,” Eliot said. “I was … just thinking.”
“About what?”
“It doesn’t matter,” Eliot said, giving me a soft kiss. “It’s nothing to talk about right now. When all of this Sierra Jackson stuff is over with we’ll talk about it then.”
I didn’t like the sound of that. “Well now you’re going to upset me if you don’t tell me what’s wrong.”
Eliot chuckled, and despite my newfound worry, the sound warmed me. “It’s nothing,” he said. “Let’s get in the shower and then have breakfast. I have to stick close to the pawnshop today, but if you need anything I’ll be around.”
“But … .”
“Avery, I promise it’s nothing bad, and I don’t really want to get into it now after we had such a heavy night.”
“I think you had a lot rougher night than I did,” I said, my heart rolling. “I’m sorry. I should’ve made sure you were okay before I fell asleep. After making you rub me for three straight hours I was kind of out of it.”
“I noticed,” Eliot said dryly. “I had to carry you to bed.”
“You’re okay, right?”
“I’m fine,” Eliot said, pressing a reassuring kiss to my lips. “Get your cute little butt in the shower. I’ll show you how fine I’m doing and make sure you’re really happy before you head off to work today.”
“You don’t have to sell that so hard,” I said. “You had me at breakfast and shower.”
I WAS in a terrific mood by the time I got to The Monitor. Eliot relaxed in the shower – he might have had a little help – and by the time we hit Mount Clemens for breakfast he was jovial and joking. Part of me felt guilty for his lack of sleep. I couldn’t help but wonder when that happened. When did worry about his health overtake the primal need to gloat because he was upset about me? I hate growing up.
I was lost in my own little world when I got to the newsroom. I sat in my cubicle and went through my email before ambling over to Fish’s desk. When he darted his eyes in my direction, I realized something was terribly off.
I risked a glance at the familiar newsroom faces and found my friend Erin close to tears and Duncan silently gloating in the corner. This definitely couldn’t be good. “What happened?”
“We need to talk,” Fish said, pointing toward the conference room at the far side of the newsroom. “Go in there.”
“Just tell me what’s going on.”
“Go in there,” Fish hissed. “We have a huge problem and we can’t do this is public.”
I reluctantly trudged to the conference room, shooting Duncan a challenging look before disappearing inside. Fish shut the conference room door and nervously gripped his hands together as he sat at the head of the table.
“Just tell me what’s going on,” I ordered. “I’m sure it’s not as bad as you make it sound.”
“No, it’s worse,” Fish said. “I’ve spent the last hour trying to grapple with this, but … it’s a mess.”
“What’s a mess?”
“Tell me about the story you filed on Sierra Jackson last night,” Fish prodded.
Huh. I knew something was wrong, but I never envisioned it having to do with my article. I figured Duncan pitched a fit in Human Resources again and I was going to have to attend yet another “don’t mention your co-worker’s body parts” seminar. They were annoying, but I could sleep through almost anything.
“It was a normal story,” I said, my fingertips going numb even though I couldn’t identify why. “I interviewed Bridget Dalton for more than an hour. Then I called her ex-husband to confirm or deny her statements and he basically told me to screw myself and that his ex-wife was crazy. I wrote a story and added photos.”
“Well, Daniel Jackson is threatening to sue us because of that piece,” Fish said. “He says you made all of it up.”
“Ask Bridget Dalton,” I suggested.
“She’s not answering her phone at the hotel and the concierge says she’s not accepting calls.”
“What does that mean?”
“That means you’re in trouble until we can confirm this,” Fish said. “Jackson denies you called him and claims you ran a one-sided story from a crazy woman’s perspective.”
“First, Eliot was with me when I conducted that interview,” I said. “He was there the whole time. Second, you can run my desk phone and see that I called Jackson for a statement. The call didn’t last long, but it was probably at least a minute. We keep records of that stuff, right?”
Fish nodded, exhaling heavily. “That’s good,” he said. “I’ll get the tech guy on that right away. I’m betting Jackson was banking on you using your personal cell phone.”
“Eliot brought me back here and went to pick up food,” I explained. “We have proof I called.”
“Are you sure Bridget Dalton will confirm she said what she said?” Fish asked.
He’d never asked me anything remotely like that before. “I guess I can’t say with absolute certainty that she will,” I answered. “She’s a little nutty and her ex-husband appears to be bat-shit crazy. Eliot was there, though.”
“I know,” Fish said. “It’s just … he’s your boyfriend. Is he going to be a good enough witness?”
“Since when do I need a witness to conduct an interview?”
“Daniel Jackson is threatening to sue us,” Fish said. “If his daughter is found dead he could ride a sympathy train to this publication’s bankruptcy.”
Fish was legitimately worried. That made me legitimately ticked off. “I did everything right,” I said. “I talked to neighbors. I approached the mother in a public setting. I called the father for confirmation. I don’t understand why you’re so worried.”
“I’m worried because Jim MacDonald sent down an edict first thing this morning,” Fish said. “He spent more than an hour on the phone with Daniel Jackson. Things were … ugly. Now, I want you to know he has faith in you, but we need to work together to make sure this doesn’t get away from us.”
I had no idea what that meant. Jim MacDonald was The Monitor’s publisher, and even though we got off to a rocky start in the relationship game he’d come to love me over the past few weeks. Okay, fine, he tolerated me because I kept scooping everyone. I also worked overtime to derange his soon-to-be ex-son-in-law, who also happened to be my college boyfriend.
“What’s going to happen now?” I asked, confused.
“For now the Sierra Jackson story is being shifted to another reporter,” Fish said. “You’ll handle other stories until we have confirmation that you’re telling the truth. After that everything will go back to normal.”
“Are you saying I’m being punished for doing my job?”
“I’m saying this is serious, Avery,” Fish said. “We’re a daily newspaper. You know how close the margins run on a daily newspaper these days. If Jackson manages to actually push his suit through … well … we’ll be finished.”
“But I didn’t do anything wrong,” I snapped, frustrated.
“I believe you,” Fish said, awkwardly patting my hand. “I’m sure we’ll have this worked out in a day or two.”
“And who is going to be taking over my story while we’re working things out?” I asked. “Keep in mind that the only appropriate answer is Marvin.”
“It can’t be Marvin,” Fish s
aid, lowering his gaze. “Marvin is the only one who likes working nights on a regular basis. We need him to cover meetings and breaking crime stories. We need someone available during the day to cover the Sierra Jackson story. The longer she stays missing, the bigger this story is going to get.”
“So who’s covering it?”
“Duncan.”
I knew he was going to say it before the name escaped his mouth, yet it didn’t stunt the sharp pain in my head. “Over my dead body!”
“You don’t have a choice, Avery,” Fish said. “It’s either this or suspension. It’s up to you, but you’re not getting the Sierra Jackson story back until all of this is settled. It’s Duncan’s now.”
ELIOT stood behind the counter in his pawnshop when I dramatically threw open the door and stomped inside. He lifted his head, a small smile playing at the corner of his lips, but it slipped when he saw the look on my face.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, moving out from behind the counter. “Did something happen to you?”
I opened my mouth to relate my morning to him. I had every intention of being calm and rational. Instead everything tumbled out as I burst into tears. Eliot pulled me in for a hug, rubbing my back as he listened. When I was done, I realized he was rocking me, which was both annoying and comforting at the same time.
“He gave the story to Duncan,” I said. “My life is officially over.”
“It’s not over,” Eliot said. “It’s on pause. We both know you did everything right and this will come back to bite Duncan. He’s not good at his job like you are.”
“What if it doesn’t?” I couldn’t stop my voice from shaking.
“Then I’ll kick his ass,” Eliot answered. “It’s going to be okay. I was with you when you interviewed Bridget, and everything you wrote in that story is exactly true. They’ll run the phone records and prove you called Jackson. I promise it’s going to be okay.”
“I want to kick someone in the nuts.”
“I love you but I’m not taking that one for the team,” Eliot said. “We can drive around until we find Tad Ludington if that will make you feel better.”
Mere mention of my ex-boyfriend was enough to make me queasy. “I want to lock Tad, Daniel Jackson and Duncan in a room together and make them listen to boy band music until they crack.”
Eliot chuckled. “It’s going to be okay,” he murmured into my hair. “You’re too good at what you do for this to stick. It’s a temporary setback. It’s just like when you got busted down to sports.”
“That was the worst thing that ever happened to me,” I sniffed.
“But it didn’t last long,” Eliot pointed out. “This won’t either. It’s going to be okay.”
I rested my head against Eliot’s chest and let him rock me for a few moments. When my emotions were finally under control, I lifted my eyes to his. “Eliot?”
“What?”
“I still want to kick someone in the nuts,” I admitted.
“I have a better idea,” Eliot said. “I think I know a way for you to get your aggression out without committing a crime.”
“I can’t wait to hear this,” I muttered. “You’re probably going to suggest yoga, and all that’s going to do is make me want to kick you in the nuts.”
Eliot shifted his groin away from me as he pressed his lips together. “Well … .”
“Oh, no way,” I said. “I’m not going to a yoga class.”
“You’ll feel better if you do.”
“You don’t know that,” I shot back. “Those hot yoga classes are uncomfortable enough to kill people. Do you want to kill me?”
“I want you to calm down,” Eliot clarified. “Seriously. You just told me Fish insisted you take the day off to calm down. What could it hurt to go to one of Lexie’s yoga classes?”
I guess we were both about to find out.
12
“I’m not doing this.”
Eliot pushed me toward Lexie’s yoga studio as I dug my heels in on the sidewalk and fought his efforts. I hate yoga. It’s not exercise. It’s torture. I would much rather swim … or ride a bike … or let Eliot con me into taking a naughty shower.
“You’re doing it,” Eliot argued, grabbing my hips and shoving me toward the front door. “You’re a huge ball of vindictive energy right now. You have to work it off, and I prefer you take it out on these people rather than me.”
“I don’t like it,” I hissed. “Lexie is going to take one look at me and suggest we do a hot yoga session. Do you know what that is? She’s going to put me in a room and turn the temperature up to two-hundred degrees and then steam me like a vegetable until I’m limp and lifeless.”
“That sounds better than what you are right now,” Eliot said, pasting a fake smile on his face for a passing pedestrian as she watched us grapple. “I’m not hurting her.”
“He’s trying to make me go to hot yoga,” I argued. “It’s torture.”
“It’s definitely torture,” the woman agreed. “He’s sexy, though, honey. I would do anything he asks and then some.”
“Did you hear that?” Eliot asked, puffing out his chest. “I’m sexy. You can’t whine like a baby when you have someone as sexy as me. Avery!”
“How about we just go home, turn the shower on really hot, close the bathroom door and do it on the floor?” I suggested. “It will have the same outcome except this one will be fun for a few minutes before we want to kill ourselves.”
Eliot smirked at the suggestion. “I want to try that one day just for the heck of it,” he said. “We can’t do it today, though. I have to go back and run the store. You know that.”
I was desperate. “I’ll let you be the boss for the entire afternoon if you don’t leave me here.”
Eliot looked intrigued at the prospect. “Under any other circumstances I would take that offer and run,” he said. “You need this, though. More than the yoga, you need to complain really loudly to your cousin so you get it out of your system. I will be back to pick you up in two hours. I’ll stuff your face full of whatever crap you want to eat. Then we can do everything else you’ve suggested to get out of this. You have to go in there, though.”
“I hate you,” I said, jerking my arm away and making a face.
“I love you, too,” Eliot said, offering me a quick kiss. “Go inside.”
“I’ll go when I’m ready,” I said, crossing my arms over my chest. “You don’t have to watch me. You can go back to work. I’m done trying to stop you.”
“I’m not leaving until you walk through that door.”
I twisted my face into the most hateful look I could muster. “I am not a child. I don’t need a babysitter.”
“Get your ass in there,” Eliot ordered. “I am not joking. You’re on the verge of joining the Dark Side. No one wants that.”
I had to respect him for unleashing the Star Wars reference. “I want Olive Garden pasta for dinner.”
“Done.”
“I want ice cream, too,” I added.
“Done.”
“Fine,” I said, reaching for the door. “This is really going to suck.”
Eliot grinned and kissed my cheek. “You’ll be fine.”
“THIS is the worst thing that has ever happened to me,” I said forty minutes later, throwing myself on the floor in the middle of Lexie’s yoga studio and covering my face with a sweaty arm. “I’ve been kidnapped, stalked and almost murdered. I had to sit through the Star Wars prequels, the Friday the 13th remake and the unholy abomination that was sparkling vampires. This is by far the worst thing that’s ever happened to me, though.”
“Are you talking about getting in trouble at work or having a story given to Duncan?” Lexie asked, continuing to stretch.
I narrowed my eyes and briefly wondered whether I could harness the mental energy needed to pop her head like a zit from five feet away.
“I think she’s talking about the hot yoga,” Carly said, following Lexie’s movements and sliding forward on her ha
nds. “This is kind of fun.”
“That’s it,” I muttered, rolling to my side and pushing myself to my knees. “How can a pregnant woman be fine with this heat? Your baby is probably boiling in there. It’s a hard-boiled egg and all you’re missing is a salad.”
“You are delightful today,” Carly said, shifting to follow Lexie into another position. “Why did you come here if you had no intention of participating in the class?”
“Eliot made me.”
Carly lifted a dubious eyebrow. “He made you? How did he do that?”
“He physically wrestled her toward the door and then negotiated something dirty with her on the sidewalk out front,” Lexie supplied.
“How do you know that?” I asked.
“I watched you guys fight and then I watched you argue until he won,” Lexie replied, not missing a beat. “I’m guessing he offered you food and sex to get you to come in here.”
“This sucks,” I muttered, running a hand through my damp hair. “This sucks the big one.”
“Your head is in a really great place,” Carly said, extending her arms as she squatted and balanced. She looked as if she was about to squeeze the kid out right there, which was a terrifying thought.
“How are you here in the middle of the day?” I asked. “You’re an accountant and you love your job. You’re never off in the middle of a workday.”
“I had a doctor’s appointment,” Carly replied, shifting her hips and leaning forward. I was tired just looking at her. “Everything is right on schedule and I’m very healthy, in case you’re interested.”
I wasn’t interested – at least not right now. “You know the kid is probably growing two heads because of this heat, right?” I pressed. “It’s like toxic waste for your uterus. That’s what this heat is. You’re turning the baby into a mutant ninja turtle.”
“You are going to make me kill you,” Carly snapped, finally breaking from her pose. “What is the matter with you?”
“Did you miss my story about what happened to me at work today?”
“No, I didn’t,” Carly said, her hands landing on her hips. “I didn’t miss your story, Avery. What I did miss is the part where this was somehow the end of the world.”
avery shaw 08 - misprints & mistakes Page 10
