***
It took a week for the bruises to fade. The daytime makeup hid the majority of the damage that was left. Amy felt good as she marched into Henry’s office. Brian might still be furious at the risk she took, but Henry was ecstatic.
“Your story’s gone viral, Amy. This type of work is exactly what we want. Your career’s on the rise.”
“Thanks, all it took was almost getting raped and killed, but anything for a good story.”
“That’s the attitude. So what are you working on now?” Her words went right over Henry’s head.
She shook her finger at him. “Henry...” He didn’t expect an answer, but he tried every time. She always played her stories close to the chest. That was one of the lovely things about being an independent journalist…she wrote on spec and didn’t discuss her next project.
“I promise it will be good. Maybe more in depth than this one, but it’ll be a few weeks before you have it. I’ll keep in touch. You know my price has gone up.”
“If it’s as good as or better than this one, you’ll deserve the increase.”
After she left the office, she decided to drive by Marcus’ residence. It was just outside the city. When she arrived at the address Goggle had for him, she faced a six-foot brick wall and iron gates. As a security man approached her, she rolled down her window. It was amazing how the rich lived. A forest of trees hid the home from the road.
“May I help you, Miss?”
“I’m wondering if Mr. Lincoln is available. I don’t have an appointment, but I think if you tell him I’m here he’ll speak with me. Tell him Amy Cox from the alley is here.”
“Mr. Lincoln is not in residence at this time and I’m unable to give his current location.”
“Can you get a message to him?”
“Yes, I will let his people know you came calling.”
Came calling, it seemed such a funny, old-fashioned way of speaking. The other phrase that got her was “his people.” Proof the rich didn’t live like the rest of the world. Amy’s disappointment was tempered. She knew it wouldn’t be easy. However, the guard told her plenty with his choice of words, “Not in residence and unable to give his current location.”
The Internet was a wonderful tool, and she would have the information soon. Mr. Lincoln wouldn’t stay hidden from her for long. Unfortunately, her recorder had been missing from the hidden pocket in her shorts so immediate answers weren’t available but she knew who had them. Mr. Playboy would soon discover; she didn’t play.
Fang Chronicles: Amy's Story Page 8
