“I already met her a couple weeks ago,” Ryan told him, staring at his friend to gauge his reaction. “And I ran into her when I was on my way over here today.”
Taking the drumstick from Ryan’s hand, Matt used it to whack him on the arm. “What do you mean, you already met her?” He laughed as Ryan attempted to shrug it off. “So hang on a second. You don’t think the reason she came down here tonight was to see you?”
Ryan took his drumstick from Matt and began twirling it in his fingers as a smile started to form on his face. “Yeah. As crazy as it sounds, yes.”
“She’s way out of your league, buddy.”
Ryan slid off the stage and stood, gazing at the door through which Harley had disappeared a moment before. “Out of my league?” he asked with a laugh. “Forget that—she’s out of my stratosphere.” He shook his head as he thought about her rather obvious attempt to match his look with her leather jacket. “You know what she does on Friday nights? As a reward for the week, she goes to Tiny’s. Tiny’s, can you imagine? And not dressed like that, either. She dresses down like she’s a penniless college student and takes all her makeup off. Oh, and when she’s finished… Remember Duke, that guy that always sits on the bench over there that I told you about? When she’s finished with her dinner, she asks for chocolate and then she takes it outside and sits next to him and shares it with him.”
“Wow.” Matt appeared pensive as he sat on the stage. “She actually sounds really cool.”
“Very cool,” Ryan agreed. “More than that, though—she’s good. I don’t even think she realizes it.”
Slapping him on the back, Matt gave him a knowing grin. “You’re due for some good, man. Overdue. Life owes you that much.”
Nodding, Ryan looked at his friend. “I don’t know that life owes me anything, but I’d take some good.” Glancing back at the door, he pictured Harley in his mind again. “I’d gladly take some good.”
C hapter Nine
Mitch didn’t soften on his intention of sending Harley after human interest stories, and she handled the situations with more grace than she felt. The pet rescue facility needed donations? Harley was sent to investigate. It happened to coincide with a story she was doing about a bone marrow drive at the local hospital, where she met a young man who had lost his father. She had taken time to get to know the little guy, made a point of getting her cheek swabbed and being added to the donor registry mostly for his sake, and then took the boy and his mother over to choose an adorable rescue pup.
Perfect piece of reporting, Mitch called it, right before he sent her on another non-news assignment. A local car dealership doing a car giveaway to raise money for high school graduates was naturally Harley’s story. While she was there, she made a point of talking the dealership into donating a used vehicle to a mother of four who didn’t have transportation. She was quite pleased with her accomplishment.
Still, Mitch wasn’t adequately impressed. Community-wide blood drive on Halloween, complete with gimmicky theme and nutty costumes? Who else would report on that event? She spent her time there making mental notes of a new Cooper Corporate Financial company spokesperson who was young, spunky, and offered a fresh outlook on corporate giving. Harley had even written the young woman’s name down when she arrived back at the office—Madeline Heard. If the two of them partnered on human interest news stories, maybe she could convince CCF to fund some high-profile things in the city. Of course, she would have to steer clear of any black-tie functions involving the company, so she could avoid face-to-face meetings with Faith Cooper. She wouldn’t want to be accused of stealing her high-end fashions, after all.
Although she was making the best of a bad situation, Harley had grown more than sick of the constant drivel she was required to report. She expected Mitch to relent after Senator Stanton let up on the Harley embargo, but suspiciously that didn’t happen. Either Mitch had his own reasons for holding her back, or Kip’s embarrassment reached farther than she imagined. Either way, she was stuck with the fluff while Summer sat next to Denton, smiling like a cat that had eaten a canary. She even looked like a canary one day in a solid daffodil-yellow blazer that was boxy and very unattractive, but Harley kept her opinions to herself.
To make matters worse, she hadn’t accidentally bumped into Ryan at all. After she visited him at Bonham Station, she figured he would show up at Tiny’s the next Friday night or search her out somehow, but no such luck. When she worked up the nerve to ask Tiny about him, he said he hadn’t been by in probably a month, or at least since the night she met him there.
When she was about to convince herself that her work life couldn’t get much worse, the week before Thanksgiving rolled around. She was out on a trip to a turkey farm when she had a text from Summer asking her if she would mind providing a quick on-location spot with a man who was trying to earn the world record for most consecutive days spent listening to Christmas carols. She thought about sending a snarky response, but instead she leaned her head back against the seat of the van and took a deep, cleansing breath.
Fighting her gut instincts, she looked down at her phone to text a two-letter response: OK.
The problem was, she accidentally fat-fingered the numbers and the word came out as oik. Naturally, the phone decided to autocorrect her spelling mistake, so the response she sent to Summer was simply one word:
Oink.
Oink, as though she were snorting like a pig. Or worse—calling Summer a pig. Even though she immediately texted and apologized for the mistake, when she was back at the studio, Mitch scolded her for her thinly veiled insult.
“What were you thinking?” Denton asked as she left Mitch’s office and walked down the hall. He was standing cross-armed in the doorframe of his office, and when she didn’t stop, he grabbed her arm. “Get in here, spitfire.”
“You know that wasn’t on purpose, Denton. I’m sick of being treated like garbage because of Kip and the senator. And Summer, telling on me like we’re in junior high. I’m just over it.”
“You don’t deserve it,” he insisted, not releasing her. “What can I do to help? Should we discuss it over dinner tonight?”
Recognizing his blatant attempt at flirting, she jerked her arm away. “It’s not going to happen, Denton.”
“What if I can get you the desk?” he prodded. A month ago his attempt might have worked, but she had grown weary of the office politics.
“It’s not going to happen.” She walked down the hall, but he remained a step behind, trailing her all the way to her desk. When she finally stopped, he leaned close to her so they wouldn’t be overheard.
“Don’t roll over and play dead. You’re Harley Laine, aren’t you? The Harley I know is a fighter.”
The day before Thanksgiving, a scandal erupted involving one of the local judges accepting bribes, but was Harley allowed near that story? Of course not. Instead, Mitch sent her down to a local shelter where they were hosting a food drive and would have a hot meal for those in need on the holiday. She decided on a white blazer and a brown suede skirt complete with knee-high boots in a camel color that morning, and she checked her hair as she stared at her reflection in the passenger’s side mirror of the van.
“Oh, check out the paper today,” Kenny interrupted her sulking. “They’ve got the annual favorites list.” Harley hastily grabbed it out of his hand and folded it in her lap. Every year around Thanksgiving they sent out the same survey: favorite local restaurant, shopping excursion, sports team, doctor… Basically, the best of the best. Scanning the list for favorite local newscaster, she nearly held her breath. Last year she had been number three behind Taylor Kennett and Shawna Mitchell—not bad considering how new she was to the scene. This year…
“It’s me,” she whispered, staring in disbelief. “Did you see this, Kenny? Favorite local newscaster—Harley Laine.”
“Sure I saw it. Why’d ya think I handed it over?”
“Don’t you see what this means?” she asked, laughing in delight.
“Mitch won’t be able to argue with this! How can he? The city has spoken, and they’ve decided for him. Even relegating me to the sidelines, he couldn’t keep me out of the top spot.”
“Star reporter right here,” Kenny agreed, pretending that he was announcing her at some sort of event. “Have you met the star reporter, Miss Harley Laine?”
“Oh, please, Kenneth. You know I don’t meet with the riffraff.”
“Just don’t go getting a big head over it,” he warned her, pulling the van into the shelter parking lot.
“Are you kidding me? This is huge. Huge! And my head is the perfect size for my body, thank you very much.”
Stepping out of the van, she smoothed her skirt across her legs and looked around at the people filtering in and out of the building.
My adoring public, she thought with a smile, immediately chiding herself for being outrageous. How many of those people had completed the survey, though, and chosen her as the favorite? The majority, at least.
“Just tell me when you’re ready, Kenny.”
She stood in front of the shelter and fluffed her hair a bit behind her shoulders, pondering her phrasing. Her quick wit was one of the things people seemed to like about her, so she thought it best to have some cute phrase prepared.
“Whenever you’re ready, Harley.”
Shaking her shoulders a bit to loosen up, she raised the microphone to her face and said a few words about the kindness of the city, and what people had to be thankful for. As she finished, Kenny lowered the camera and looked at Harley thoughtfully. “What was that, a stump speech?”
“That will be great after we get a couple interviews and give the basic information. Let’s just find a couple people to chat with, okay?”
Kenny followed Harley through the door to the shelter, where she gave him some instructions on getting a shot of the food preparation area and spoke briefly with the shelter’s director, who gave her a simple interview with information about the times, expected numbers, and how much food they would serve.
Afterwards, Harley glanced around the building to see if she noticed anyone who captured her interest. Her eyes rested on the spokesperson for Cooper Corporate Financial, who was co-sponsoring the food drive and had also co-sponsored the blood drive the month before. A few words from Madeline might be interesting, to see if she could determine the reason for the sudden philanthropic spirit of the company. Besides, when Harley met her at the blood drive, she was delightfully cute and a pleasant change of pace.
“Over here, Kenny,” she waved her hand. “I think I see a familiar face.” Stepping toward the young woman with the mass of auburn-tinted hair, Harley watched as she stacked a couple cans of green beans. “You’re from Cooper Corporate Financial, right? Madeline, wasn’t it?”
“Yes, that’s right,” she agreed politely. “Madeline Heard.”
“I’m her mom!” a slightly robust blonde woman stated from the young woman’s right. That kind of enthusiasm would look bizarre in her serious “heart-of-the-city” news piece, so Harley decided to ignore her.
“Could we get a few words?” Harley continued, glancing at Kenny to make sure he was prepared.
“Actually, I’d rather not.”
Harley was about to calmly question the reason for the refusal when Madeline’s mother decided to force her way in again.
“I could do an interview!”
Ugh, if I wanted a crazy fan interview I could get one of those every day of the week. I want to be a serious reporter, lady, not a walking sideshow.
“Why don’t you interview the staff here at the shelter?” Madeline wanted to know. “They know more about what’s going on than I do.”
“Oh, we already have,” Harley assured her. “I’d like to get the rest of the story, and this will just take a minute.” Straightening her blazer, she motioned to Kenny and held the microphone up towards her lips.
“Ready,” Kenny confirmed.
“Madeline Heard is the spokesperson for Cooper Corporate Financial, co-sponsor of the food drive—”
“Hold up,” Kenny interrupted, tilting his camera to the side. “The old lady’s in the shot.”
“What?” Harley sighed, finally making eye contact with Madeline’s mother. “Ma’am, will you move, please? You’re in the camera line.” Seriously, why do I always get these crazies? Letting out a quick calming breath, she tried again. “Okay, one more time. Madeline Heard from Cooper—”
“No, Harley, I decline an interview.”
For a split second, Harley was confused. Sometimes politicians declined interviews, or defense attorneys, or even the occasional upset-after-a-loss sports player. Company spokespeople, though? That wasn’t good business. Madeline was young enough, maybe she didn’t realize how the game was played.
“Like I said,” Harley brought her voice down to a whisper, “it will just take a minute, and then we’ll be done here.”
“And like I said,” Madeline reiterated, “I decline.”
If Harley was confused before, she was nearly incensed now. She was trying to make things easy on Madeline, and she wasn’t cooperating. The last time she met her, she felt like they were slightly similar—nearly the same age and taking the torches from the last generation. It was rather refreshing that such a young woman was the spokesperson for the large corporate giant, but she was obviously not taking her position seriously.
“You’re refusing to talk to me?” Harley assessed, feeling a blush creep into her cheeks.
“Yes, I believe so,” Madeline answered curtly.
It was a betrayal, right? She had covered the ludicrous Halloween-themed blood drive graciously, ignoring the preposterous costumes and the corny clichés they used throughout the event. Now the other woman wouldn’t give her the slightest courtesy by providing an interview?
“I…I don’t know what to do, Harley,” Kenny bumbled behind her.
“Here’s an idea,” Madeline stated, glancing about the room. “Run a story about the shelter without looking for an angle. You’ve got enough footage for today.”
I’m going to kill her.
“How dare you insinuate that I’m looking for an angle,” she stated a little too loudly, unaware of the other people around her. “I don’t look for angles in my stories. Have you never seen me on the air? Do you have any idea how rude that is?”
“I’m honestly not that familiar with you,” Madeline retorted, not backing down.
“I’m the top reporter in this town,” Harley insisted. “Number one most popular newscaster, in fact.”
“Oh, come on now. Why would Channel Six send the hottest reporter in town to a volunteer food drive?”
“Because I’m good with people,” Harley blurted. “No one else could possibly make these crummy little unimportant stories seem interesting. What would you know about it, anyway?” Whirling on her heel, she stormed toward the door, feeling tears building up in her eyes.
Why would Channel Six send the hottest reporter in town to a volunteer food drive? Because Summer is entrenched and I can’t dethrone her.
“Kenny!” she called when she realized he wasn’t following her.
Throwing the door to the shelter open, she stood in the cold wind and brushed angrily at her eyes. She could probably piece together the story from what she had, but it still wouldn’t do to begin crying. And to have a meltdown in public like that—it simply wasn’t like her. Turning around the side of the building, she saw a very familiar face sitting on the curb. Lowering herself next to him, she sniffed quickly.
“Duke?” He turned at the sound of her voice and gave her a reserved smile. “Is there something I can do for you?”
“No ma’am, I’m right as rain. You don’t look your usual chipper self, though.”
“Just having a bit of an emotional hiccup,” she assured him, pasting a smile on her face. She placed her hand on his arm and took a deep breath. “Do you remember when you told me that you don’t have to be important to make a difference?”
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“Of course I do. When we had dinner together.”
“Sure. Sometimes I really need that reminder, you know?” Pausing to brush away an escaped tear, she looked down at the pavement.
“We all do, I suspect. You make a difference to me, simply by caring. Just like the people here today are making a difference by donating their time or their food. It only takes a spark sometimes to shine a light so bright that it can’t be hidden.”
“Thank you,” she muttered, leaning over and wrapping an arm around his shoulders. “Kenny, are we good to go back to the station?”
“Sure thing, Harley.”
“See you Friday?” she asked Duke, who simply nodded in agreement.
Denton lowered himself into the chair beside Harley’s desk and stared solemnly at her, not even bothering with his normal flirty banter. She had spent the entire afternoon pondering her “favorite reporter” status and her meltdown at the shelter, and she felt like such a fraud. Shaking her head, she offered a slight smirk.
“What is it, Denton? Shouldn’t you be headed home for some turkey or pie or something?”
“Eventually. What about you? You headed home?”
Sighing, she glanced at her desk. “I have to work, and besides, I haven’t been home in two years. I’ll just spend my day here, filling in for Summer.”
Laughing, Denton placed his elbows on her desk. “I knew you wanted the desk, but that interview you did today…I mean, talk about hardcore. You’re a great actress, Harley Laine. Well done. Keep it up, and you’ll be sitting beside me in no time. No wonder you didn’t need my help. Got your own plan, right?”
Harley’s face nearly went white as she thought about someone catching her meltdown on camera. If Mitch got ahold of that, she’d be done. He had already banished her to the outer realms of journalistic nothingness—what remained? County fairs and pie eating contests?
“What are you talking about?” she asked hesitantly.
“Mitch showed me the interview.”
Crowned (Girls of Wonder Lane Book 2) Page 9