Louisa Neil

by Bete Noire

  She’d been quiet the rest of the afternoon, listening to her parents talk about the accident. Finally, her father turned to her.

  “Why weren’t you on the bus?” he asked.

  “I missed it today,” she’d simply said, but she knew neither parent truly believed her. After many attempts she finally stood, anger her first emotion to be let loose. “Just leave me alone. I missed it on purpose, okay. I got a strange feeling and knew I couldn’t get on it, so I stayed behind.”

  Her mother had stood clearing dishes after refilling her father’s coffee mug. His laughing wasn’t what she had expected.

  “Why are you laughing at me?” Screaming wasn’t their norm, and she’d found herself as surprised by her outburst as her parents had been.

  “I’m not laughing at you, Diana,” her father had said. “I’m proud you listened to your gut.”

  She sat back heavily in her seat. “What are you talking about?” In that instant, she could picture his craggy face and kind blue eyes.

  “Some people get gut feelings on occasion. It’s an inner sense that makes them hesitate when they feel something isn’t right. Like you did today.”

  “Stop calling it a gut feeling. That’s not appropriate for a young girl. Why not consider it a sixth sense? That sounds much more ladylike.” Her mother rested her hand over Diana’s and gave her a reassuring squeeze before going back to the dishes.

  “‘Gut feeling’ describes it just as well,” her father bantered back to her mother.

  “How about calling it her ‘inner sense,’ then? That’s much more acceptable for a young lady.”

  “Call it what you want, Diana. But something inside you made you miss that bus today. Call it gut instinct, a sixth sense, or an inner sense. But you’ve got it, girl, and you should heed its warnings when it comes.”

  “I’m just thankful you’re okay.” Her mother was twisting the dishrag between her fingers.

  “It was just a blown tire on the bus, Mom. It’s not like I missed a major accident.”

  “Honey, your father’s right. You have good instincts. I just want you to learn to listen to those inner, sixth-sense feelings. That doesn’t mean you have to act on them all the time, just consider them and make your choices accordingly.” Her mother had turned away and started washing the supper dishes.

  “I’m glad you’re safe, honey.” Her father stood, dropped a kiss on her forehead, and began clearing the rest of the dishes.

  That night in bed she thought over what had happened that day. She would listen to her own body and mind from now on. Whether she referred to it as a gut feeling, inner or sixth sense, that day had been a lesson for her in her own instincts.

  She continued to swap out scanned pages for new ones.

  As Diana had grown up, she’d honed her intuition. She didn’t speak about it with anyone, just made some decisions accordingly. Which reinforced why she didn’t have many long-term relationships in her life. While dating, she’d been able to understand early on what the boy or man wanted from her. Most of the time it was some form of sex. When she wasn’t willing to lose her virginity in the back of Roger Denton’s van, he called her a bitch. She knew in reality, he and some friends had had a bet on who could get laid first. She didn’t want to be a pawn in their game. While she dated often, she always knew when the end was near, when the boys would push for contact she wasn’t willing to give.

  In the first two years of college, she’d dated just about anyone who asked her out. She refused to listen to her inner gut feelings and found herself being used until a prettier girl came along. Yes, she’d groped her way through sexual situations until she was able to see clearly the boy’s alternative motives. In her last years of college, she became much more adept at reading people’s intentions and steering clear of the boys who just wanted to use her body.

  She smiled and swapped out another paper. Her first years out of college, she worked for a computer company, inputting data and honing her skills. But she’d also come into her own, as her mother would say. Now when she accepted dates, she knew from the start which man truly liked her and which just wanted something from her.

  It was at that point in her life she began to want control over dates and the sexual activities in which she participated. Naturally, most men didn’t understand her demonstrative ways in bed. They were the men, and she was supposed to follow their lead, not climb on top and take her own releases. After a few dates, most men found her domineering and resistant to their wishes. She didn’t get many third or fourth dates. It seemed natural to her that since she knew what she liked and what made her body orgasm, a little direction couldn’t hurt. Then she found adopting a policy of sex without emotions worked for a while until the men began to feel used by her. While they didn’t want to get emotionally involved, they expected her to. When she resisted and focused on her needs, her dating life came to a standstill. Most men didn’t agree with her, so she’d pulled back and focused on her job.

  While she still dated occasionally, they only had sex when she was interested and could direct their actions. Why fumble around when she knew exactly how to get herself off? Men, she learned, liked to fumble if it made them feel in charge. So she stopped dating and began to learn her body’s needs, using toys for her own satisfaction.

  Her resolve had made her a strong-willed woman in all aspects of her life. While widely misunderstood, she preferred to be alone than know she was supposed to be a meek plaything for the men. Her inner, sixth sense shaped her into the woman she was today. Strong willed in all aspects of her life.

  While she’d always know she was adopted, she never knew anything about her birth parents. As she grew up, she felt it would be hateful to ask questions. In her teen years, she did ask, and was told it was a closed adoption, the birth parents not wanting contact. Diana accepted it was her birth mother’s choice and never pursued trying to find her. But she did wonder if everyone had these same gut feelings or was it inherited.

  By twelve thirty she was bleary-eyed and decided to take a break. Grabbing her bag lunch from the fridge, she wondered if anyone upstairs would notice she was leaving. As she passed through the offices, not a single person raised their head or hand in acknowledgement. Diana realized they went out of their way not to meet her eyes. Passing Walter’s office, she was about to raise her hand to wave but held back, noting the blinds were open wide, and a stranger was sitting across from Walter. Moving swiftly, she only saw a brown-haired man from behind. Deciding not to inquire, she continued outside and down a block to the common area where she managed to snag half a bench. Today she ate her sandwich while watching the crowd walk by. Half an hour later, the heat was starting to get to her, and she headed back, even though she technically had another half left. Her trip back to the office was as sullen and nondescript as her trip out. Downstairs, she used the miniscule bathroom that was tucked under the staircase. She didn’t care that it was small, only that it was private.

  That afternoon she had an odd feeling of dread she couldn’t shake. Just like last night, it was something she couldn’t define, only a feeling she didn’t like. The hum of the old fluorescent lights lulled her back to work. She didn’t know how long, only that the humming had stopped and they were dimming and then coming back on. Looking upward, she noted the lights were still working, as were her machines. She wondered if there were power outages in the area, thankful she’d talked Walter into a backup generator when she’d started working for him. After several long discussions, he’d finally agreed that all the computers needed steady power, or much of everyone’s work could be lost. Glancing upward, she saw them dim and come back yet again.

  “What the hell,” she said, used to speaking aloud since she was always alone. Today she wasn’t prepared for an answer.

  “Indeed, what the hell,” the male voice answered.

  The voice that came from behind startled her. She hadn’t heard him approach. Her hand rose automatically to cover her wildly beating heart before s
he slowly turned around. The man standing halfway down the stairs didn’t frighten her so much as make her stare. In a flash, she realized he’d been there for a while. She just didn’t know how long. The creaky stairs hadn’t warned her she wasn’t alone. He was tall, probably over six feet. He was handsome from a distance, his brown hair brushing his shoulders. He was wearing well-worn jeans and a light-blue, man-tailored shirt with the cuffs rolled back, exposing his forearms.

  “Did I scare you?” he asked, descending the rest of the stairs. He paused at the bottom and scanned the room as well as her.

  Diana felt a heat creep up her cheeks, embarrassed when he caught her staring at him. She was at a loss for words and found herself just watching him as he approached. Snap out of it, girl, she thought as he continued to approach. Finally, she found her voice.

  “Can I help you with something?” Even to her own ears her tone sounded afraid. She drew a few deep breaths and narrowed her eyes as she watched him smile at her unease.

  “Just wandering,” he answered. As he got closer, she noted he was very handsome. His jaw was squared and his nose a bit too large for his face. He had brown eyes that seemed to look through her. When he was just steps away, he reached his hand to her. “I’m Dane, Dane Bowie.”

  Diana went to shake his hand and hesitated, tugging off the print-filled glove before raising hers. She was inexplicably hesitant to actually touch him. “Diana Wilson,” she managed. “How can I help you, Mr. Bowie?”

  “I don’t need any help,” he told her as he continued to hold her hand. “I’m just surveying the area.”

  And me, she added silently. Finally she tugged her hand from his, realizing he was holding her as a tactic. She didn’t like games or people invading her workspace.

  “If you have a request for information from back issues, there’s a computer at the head of the stairs. Just type in your request, and when I locate it, I’ll send it up by computer.” She hesitated. “Didn’t anyone upstairs tell you about our system?”

  “Yes, of course. But since I don’t need any back information, I decided to just come down and look around.”

  “At what?” Diana knew the question was curt, but she didn’t like interruptions to her workday. Especially people who had no actually reason to be there.

  “You and your workspace, of course.” His words came with a laugh and a smile. “I suppose I should explain. As I said, I’m Dane Bowie. The somewhat proud, somewhat insane new owner of this musty establishment.”

  “You mean you bought the building?”

  She didn’t like being laughed at, but this time he seemed to soften. “Walter didn’t tell you? I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. It seems he didn’t tell any of the employees.”

  “Tell us what? You’ve got me completely confused.”

  “My partner, Sloan Shayla, and I just bought this fine old newspaper and the building.”

  Diana noted the sarcasm in his tone. She knew she should have just shut her mouth, but she couldn’t hold back from his taunt, even though it wasn’t technically directed at her. “Why buy the newspaper if you’re going to degrade it? I’d think you’d want all your employees to be excited about new ownership and your plans.” Then it became clear why Walter’s office blinds had been drawn lately. Secret meetings about the sale, she decided.

  “You are blunt.” He laughed again. “I was warned about that, but I thought Walter was being overly cautious.”

  Diana figured she had nothing to lose at this point. It was obvious her job was now at stake, but she didn’t care. She wouldn’t coddle any man who talked about the newspaper and job she’d come to love over the last years. “Would you rather I just tell you what I think you want to hear?” Even she realized she was becoming combative with this total stranger and, apparently, her new boss.

  “Never, Ms. Wilson. I prefer blunt, as long as we’re alone. In front of others, I’d prefer some decorum.”

  “May I ask what your plans for the paper are?” He moved from her personal space and began wandering around the old basement, up and down the aisles of file cabinets. She didn’t like interruptions in her workspace, and now she’d have to endure his presence. “Mr. Bowie?”

  “Please, call me Dane.”

  “Fine, Dane. What are your plans for the paper?”

  “Don’t you really mean what are my plans for you?”

  He was far enough away from her that she couldn’t see his face. “No, I asked what I meant. What are your plans for the paper? Will you continue to run it, or are you going to shut us down?” She watched him approach from a different aisle as he surveyed the cabinet headings.

  “Interesting.” He paused at the head of the aisle and propped his elbow on top of the cabinet. “You don’t technically publish in the paper yet you’re worried. You have a contract. If I decide this fool’s errand is a waste of time, your contract will be bought out.”

  “Fool’s errand? You must be insane. Don’t you realize how much history and information are in these old pages? Don’t you think future generations will be interested in how New Orleans grew, what her history is?”

  “You are dedicated. I’ll give you that. And just so you’ll relax and lose that grimace on your pretty face, we, my partner and I, intend to keep the paper going.” He smiled widely at her.

  His smile was more snide than sly, Diana decided. “You mentioned a partner. Which of you will be running the place?”

  “What you really want to ask is who you’ll have to answer to.”

  “That, too.” She nodded in agreement. “But the question is still valid. Who will be my new boss, and what’s going to happen to Walter?”

  Dane nodded his head. “So you’re worried about Walter.” He walked down the next aisle, scanning the cabinets. “Walter is retiring, with a large pension, I might add. Don’t worry about him. He’ll do just fine. Don’t you think he’s spent too many years already trying to keep this paper from folding?”

  “I don’t know. What I do know is we have a similar respect for the history of the paper and the city.” She didn’t add that she knew this paper was his life, just as it had become her life.

  “Well, then you can relax. New Orleans was always my home, even if I’ve been away for a while.”

  “And your partner, what does he think of the city and this paper?”

  “He thinks it’s a fool’s errand, but he respects my judgment. He’ll only be around occasionally.”

  She stood quickly, wanting to confront him. After several breaths, she decided to hold back. “So you’ll be running the place. And the archives, do you see the importance of them?”

  “Your job is safe, Ms. Wilson. I’m not looking to toss you out and burn the back issues.”

  “What about the rest of the staff? Are their jobs safe?” She saw him hesitate, but his back was to her.

  “The rest of the staff will be evaluated on a case-by-case basis. Don’t worry. Most will keep some kind of employment, though it won’t be sitting at a desk here in these musty offices. To be relevant, reporters have to live life, to be a part of what is going on around them to report all aspects of a story. I want them out in the field.” He waited for her answer. She didn’t give him a prompt reply. “What are you thinking now?”

  “Do they know that?”

  “They will this afternoon. I’m calling a company-wide meeting at three. Everyone will be given the same information at that time.”

  “Can I ask how long this…sale has been in the works?”

  “Not as long as you think. I only recently decided to move back. I was looking for a project, something to keep me busy. This paper seemed the best fit.”

  “So Walter didn’t market the paper. You just stopped by one day with an offer he couldn’t refuse?”

  Diana wanted to hate him, but found she was softening to his presence, something she rarely let happen. If he wasn’t so handsome, if he didn’t have a kind smile, she might have stayed more professional. If he’d looked at her
like she was a piece of meat or something sexual, she could have held her anger. But he hadn’t. In fact, he’d been nothing but polite and, she had to assume, truthful with his answers so far.

  “I did a bit of research. Let’s just say this investment seemed the most self-sufficient.”

  “Can I ask what makes you think you qualify to run a newspaper or e-paper? I mean, what degrees do you hold?”

  “I assure you, Ms. Wilson, I can read and write. I know proper English and punctuation. I also know how to market this paper to its full potential.” He was standing at the end of the last aisle and pulled open the second drawer.

  Diana almost told him not to touch the contents, but she noted he only glanced at the files. She hated the idea of someone new questioning her job and how she ran her department. She held back a smile, remembering how Walter had impressed upon her during her interview the importance he placed on her work, giving her full authority to order any equipment she deemed necessary. Her job title was director of archives. Now it seemed she had no choice. “Do you have any questions for me, or can I get back to work?”

  “A few. For now just one. Doesn’t it bother you to work in this dirty basement with no human contact?”

  “No. I took this job because I could run the department to my liking as long as the job got done. I’d been under the impression Walter was happy with my progress since I started.”

  “And the dirty basement?”

  “It’s not dirty. Maybe a little dusty and definitely old, but the quiet helps me concentrate. I don’t like being interrupted all day with petty gossip and the outside world. When I’m here, I get my work done. I can be social after work hours.”

  He laughed openly at her. “I think I’ve just been politely told to leave you alone.” He laughed again, skirting past her as he headed to the staircase. “I’d been considering moving you up to the third floor. All those floor-to-ceiling windows. The light would be much better.”