“What’s wrong?”
He needed to stretch his legs and he needed to get away.
But instead of telling her that, he pulled off the road, into one of those random service areas that claimed to have a view. What it had was open sky, places to park a car, and not worry about getting overheard.
He pulled into a random spot, unclipped his belt, and got out of the car.
Sophie didn’t know what to do. Not in the least. He’d walked away from the car, clearly needing space. What the fuck was she supposed to do? He obviously didn’t want to talk to her, and the simple question had blown him higher than a volcano. God, she didn’t know what to do.
She needed context, damn it, not a fucking temper tantrum.
She raked her temples with nails that needed to be cut, cut through hair that was way too far from being washed. She was a professional journalist, damn it. And he should be too professional to pull this nonsense.
Should she follow him? Take this excuse to watch his long legs stride in front of her, watch his back muscles flex underneath his coat? Or should she let him stew in private?
She slammed the console with her fists, not ready to deal with the consequences. Not ready to deal with him.
That was when she saw him, standing outside. Looking over the car, not in it. She opened her door, fingered her pockets to make sure she had a key, and then got out.
“I can’t do this anymore. I can’t live with this,” he said, his voice low enough to force her to strain. “I’ve been holding myself together with string and straw. I can’t live with this, security at my house, at Paul’s…”
“I’m sorry. I...”
None of the words she had worked in the face of the tension he must have been holding. She needed to create an entire language in order to explain the situation. Hers. His. “This is a mess. And I’m sorry you got caught up in it. And me.”
He didn’t say anything, didn’t look like there was an apology on his face, just stood there. And after a moment, they got back in the car and he drove them away. Because as far as she could tell, later was no longer on the table.
Five: Bloomfield
Light piano, a British singer covering a classic song. John couldn’t help the smile that twisted his lips despite himself. Nunzio and his wife knew he was coming, and the music was a joke. But the spread of food set out on the table in front of them wasn’t; mozzarella, fresh tomatoes, and pasta. Paul had a grin on his face, sharing things with Sophie that lit up her face.
“O’course,” he said as he used his fork to expertly twirl his pasta, his eyes twinkling, “and she said he’s on the make.”
Sophie sat back against her chair, covering her mouth with her napkin. Lou, Paul’s wife of over fifty years, shaking her head. “That’s a lovely story,” Lou interrupted, rolling her eyes. “But Paulie, can we please?”
“Yeah, yeah.” Paul poured water from the pitcher, refilling all of their glasses and grinned. “He was a scumbag, you forgive me of course, but that’s the truth of it. He treated everybody like shit, and all of us, all of us who worked there? We knew it. Made me work for him because…”
John watched as Paul drummed his fingers on the table.
“They made it like a promotion, see? Like, here’s this prestige guy and more money and less on-the-floor work. But here’s the thing, and Johnny knows this, but I like the floor work. Talking to the kids, the parents, the young guys, the ladies. All the fans. All the families. The single people. Their stories and smiles on the faces when the Pals win, and the tears, sometimes when we lose. We’re family. Hearing them? Helping them? Keeps me young, eh Lou?”
Lou, bless, was blushing. God, he loved these two.
“So yeah. They took me off the floor, put me back to the guy. Such ‘fuckin agita. Scum. Pure scum. Shouldn’t be connected to my shoes, not even the Pals. Treated Rosie – she worked the bathroom – they treated her like shit. Treated Vin, the waiter, like shit. All of us was going to quit, right? But Tommy, Tommy the owner Tommy, Johnny you know?”
“Tom Lefkowitz—he’s the Palisades owner,” he whispered in Sophie’s ear.
She nodded, then turned back to Paul.
“So yeah, Tommy says you take three with the scumbag and one back to the floor like you like it. And I says no, so we worked it out so that I’m only with the scumbag for a third of the game.”
“And then what happened?”
“Well, when he started to make Vin and Rosie feel shitty, I talked to him. I says he needed to show my people respect. And when I went home, I told Lou I was gonna get fired.”
Lou smiled now. “I told him he was out of his mind, so,” she paused, and met Sophie’s eyes. “I’ve been in HR for a long time, first a secretary and then after I got my certificate, I got to work in the schools. Anyway,” she smiled, “I told him that if he really thought Mr. C was the kind of man who the owner would listen to, to write everything down he could remember. And keep writing.” She turned back to her husband. “When did you start?”
“I took notes before I told him I was quitting, so I went back and added stuff I remembered…ten years ago? Fifteen years ago? Then kept writing.”
“I need to hand over some of the files,” Sophie said, putting her glass down. “But I want you to come on my show and talk, if that’s okay? We’ll need obviously to plan around your work schedule, Paul, but…”
The look on Paul’s face was priceless. It was perfect. “I…it would be an honor to talk. To tell the truth.”
As her eyes brightened, the story clearly coming together, his heart started to slam against his chest. It was here, the moment he could walk away. Go back to the way his life was before; stand up for the fans, report on the Palisades, be a fan and be a good person. Not someone who was on the edge of insanity. He couldn’t take anything else. Not at all.
Later was never coming.
The realization hurt like hell, as did staring at John who stood there watching as she put the files in the trunk of her car.
“Don’t worry,” he said. “I’ll be fine. Someone’ll get me back to my place.”
She wondered why he thought she’d worry, why he thought she’d focus on anything else other than getting the story done, now that she knew later wasn’t coming. “This is goodbye, then.”
He nodded. “Yeah. I gotta…”
“Get back to your real life. I get it. I know. Where you don’t have to look over your shoulder every five minutes. I get it.” She smiled. “I have a show to do, so…it was nice I guess?”
He nodded, and god it hurt. “Yeah. It was.”
And she couldn’t say something dumb like in another place and time, or if circumstances were different, because of course they weren’t. People every day wished the world was different and woke up with the awful penguin in DC every morning. Change looked possible, but nobody was there yet. Nothing was there yet.
But she had a story that could help. Again. And once she delivered it to the people who needed it most, she could tell it her way. That’s what she could do. That’s what she had to focus on, not a hot guy she wasn’t going to see ‘later’. And before she did something stupid, she smiled, waved, got into her car and drove away.
Six: Newark
Two weeks later
John had gotten the email early that morning. Paul was going to be on Sophie’s show that night, and if he wanted to, he could be the second guest. The show didn’t expect him to, but they saw his notes and thought he’d give a good perspective.
It had been two weeks since he thought of her. Two weeks since the ‘Rogue Files’ got to where they needed to be, and Paul notified a few different people that he’d testify wherever anybody wanted him to. He’d be a hero.
But John himself had been focusing on the Palisades and their rush into the playoffs. They needed to win a bunch of games to get past the saggy middle of losses earlier in the season.
However, tonight the Pals were off. The Palisades were off, and he could make it onto he
r show if he wanted to. If he wanted to. He had a copy of his notes; he could look over them, write up a few hypothetical questions and answers.
That was when his phone rang. Baum, of course. “Hello?”
“You better be going on her show tonight. Pals are off, and they are not making the playoffs.”
“Yes, they are, and they are off. But,”
Baum sighed. “You need to get on that show. You need to finish what you started.”
“I’m back to normal life, Ezra, I…”
“No. You think you’re back to normal. But you’re pretending. Don’t just take my word for it.”
“And I suppose you’re looking for butterflies in the sky?”
Baum snorted. Even he got the joke. “No. Either way, I’m hanging up on you.”
True to his word, his mentor hung up the phone and he found himself thinking. Had he really gone back to ‘normal’?
He’d scoured the Blue Chorus, telling himself he was looking for signs of her, and he was, but he was also looking for ways to fix the world. He watched the commercials that heralded her new show, but he lingered, searching for new breaking stories.
Because he couldn’t go back to normal. Nobody could. Things had changed. More importantly, the ugly underbelly of society had shown itself in clearer Technicolor than it had before. There was a story he had to tell, and if he was telling himself the truth, he missed her. He wondered how long he had, and hoped there’d be a PATH train he could catch.
All he could do, was do the interview. And if he was lucky enough, she'd still want to talk to him when she wasn't interviewing him. He could only dream that later was still on the table.
Manhattan
“A very special thank you to Paul Nunzio for being on the program tonight. It was interesting to get his perspective.” Sophie paused as she was given a piece of paper. “I just learned that we’re going to get another perspective on Nunzio’s files. More on that in a minute.”
She was glad that segment of her new program wasn’t live because she wasn’t sure how she’d react to John surprising her on camera. “Hi.”
He smiled at her. He looked radiant in a jacket and a pair of jeans. “Thought you’d need my perspective.”
“I thought you didn’t want to be around this.”
He sighed, and dear god he was gorgeous. “What I wanted was to go back to the life I had before. I can’t do that. None of us can do that. All we can do is move ahead, and adjust to the life that we have now. And for me, that means helping out, finishing the story we started.”
She nodded. Smiled. “Okay. We didn’t really have a chance to prep, but I trust you’re okay with talking about your notes?”
He smiled back at her. “Yeah. I think we’re good.”
And as the camera turned on, she launched into the questions.
Much Later : Newark
“Well, I think the Palisades are in great shape for the playoffs. They seem to have a new look power play, which managed to score twice and break their scoreless streak. And they also killed both penalties without giving up a power play goal. They look to be in great shape for the playoffs as they start their home and home series with the eH Washington Colonials.”
John paused mid-sentence and looked up to see her, and the Team USA jersey she wore. The smile was brighter than the silver braiding.
He finished the TV spot and walked towards her. “You’re here,” he said.
“I’m here,” she replied. “Is it later?”
“I’m not your source anymore.”
“Nope. Not my source. It is, in fact, later. You’re about to go on a crazy playoff trip?”
“Season is ending, but close. You have a break?”
She smiled. “I might want to go away for a while.”
John couldn’t believe his luck. She was here, in Newark, at the rink, and she was discussing ‘later’ despite what an arse he’d been?!
He was still an ass, but she was there and not a mirage. But he had to make sure. “Really?”
She nodded. “Yeah. See a few hockey games. Cover national and possibly international reaction to the impeachment and conviction. You know a way I can do that?”
He held his breath and walked towards her. “I think I might. For the price of a kiss.”
“Price of a kiss, hmm? I take that as the best bargain ever.”
“Bargain?”
“Yeah.”
And then he did the smartest or the stupidest thing he’d ever done.
He kissed her.
The end.
Thank you!
Thank you for reading The Rogue Files. I hope you enjoyed it!
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Also by Stacey Agdern
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“Crossing the Line” in Icing the Puck
“Truth, Love and Sushi” in Rogue Desire
“Mr. Klein Goes to Albany” in Rogue Affair
“Never Again” in Rogue Acts
Historical
“Home” in For Love & Liberty
Nonfiction
Fifty Writers on Fifty Shades of Grey
Acknowledgments
Thank you to:
Marnie and Pete McMahon and Megan Walski, whose suggestion we visit the Virginia Beach RV show (and your love for Georgetowns) sparked a lot of this story. Thank you, Marnie, for the gorgeous website and beta-ing this story at the very last minute: D And to all of you for being my friend <3 Hugs to Luna, Ares, Bailey, and Clara <3
Michelle Fuchs: whose love for the Devils inspired a really cool trip to Newark (and my first visit to Redd’s Biergarten). Your insight on this story was so very appreciated, and I am lucky to know you! Thank you also to Joyce Prevot and Sherry Cancelosi for such fun times that amazing day. Sin Bin Gals have a lot more fun when we’re all together :D
KK Hendin, Emma Barry, Cassandra Carr, Kelly Maher, Vivi Parish, Miranda Wolfe, Andy Owen, Kimberly Rocha, Ruby Scalera, and everybody who heard me whine about this story while I was in various stages of fighting with it. And each of you for helping me to fix it.
Tamsen Parker, Zoe York, AJ Cousins, and all of the rest of the Rogue group: Each of you have been amazing and supportive through this journey. Thank you for letting me ride along for these four volumes <3
Suleikha Snyder and the rest of the Volume Four peeps: it is an honor to share page space with all of you. *hugs*
My RWA-NYC and LIRW sisters, all of you are amazing and you inspire me every single time I put my fingers to the keyboard. When I’m in search of inspiration, all I have to do is go to a meeting (and the after-meeting).
Rogue Hearts (The Rogue Series Book 4) Page 14
