Hot Off the Press (Ridgemont University Book 1)

by Meredith Taylor

“Look babe, I’m worried about Zee, too. And I agree, it seems weird that he would take off like that without so much as a word to anyone. But stranger things have happened, you know? This is starting to take over your life.” The concern in Olivia’s voice was palpable.

  “Liv, Zee’s our best friend. We haven’t heard from him in days. His mother cut me off. The residence head won’t breathe a word to me. They’ve banned me from going into his res. All of this is adding up and it just seems really suspicious. We’re supposed to be looking out for each other, right?” A slight tone of panic had crept into Simon’s voice. He couldn’t help feel that he bore some responsibility for his young friend’s strange predicament, as he hadn’t acted earlier. He was too afraid of tarnishing his own reputation at the paper, and of too many people finding out that he was gay. But now he was determined to follow through and get to the bottom of this.

  “Okay sailor. I get it. And I’m here supporting you. I would die if Zee were in a pinch and we stood by doing nothing. Let me know what your investigation reveals, you old intrepid reporter.” Simon was a little bit put off by Olivia’s cavalier attitude at the sake of pushing a joke. But he reminded himself that Olivia’s happy-go-lucky attitude oftentimes masked real concern. He gave Olivia a hug, and decided to retire to his bedroom.

  Simon pushed open the door, and he involuntarily found himself brooding about Ian again. Even though Simon was alone in his bedroom, he felt like it offered him no sanctuary now. The walls were tastefully decorated with scenic portraits and the odd family picture. His mother and sister’s smiling faces made him remember why he was studying to be a journalist in the first place. His mother had lost her IT business because of red tape that was manufactured by a bigger business that was competing for the same clients. Simon had wanted to expose the operations of this business, to find out how they could get away with ruining the livelihoods of smaller firms. He knew that if he became a journalist, he could expose such injustices when they happened in the future. He sat on his bed, staring at a picture of him hugging his sister while his mother stood over them. He wanted to do them both proud.

  His desk was neatly organized with research material and assignment notices carefully arranged in heaps with no overextended corners. A little bit warm, Simon removed his acrylic, powder blue sweater. Simon carefully folded the sweater, military precision style, and opened up his cupboard. His polo shirts were carefully ironed and hanging on the railing, color-coded, his socks neatly matched and his underwear folded and ironed. Simon felt a little bit self-conscious about his OCD ways. He placed his sweater neatly upon the shelf that contained his other sweaters, and plopped down onto his bed. He looked sideways at his bedside cabinet, and wondered if he should... It certainly helped him to relax, and gave him a kick in the pants. Simon rolled over on his bed, and pulled out the A3 poster. Ian Peters’s copycat double stared back at him. There was nothing salacious about his outfit or about his gaze. Just the right mixture of class and sexiness. Simon smiled indulgently, and quickly pasted the poster above his desk, where his PC sat ready and waiting. He’d have to be careful to remove it once he received a visitor, but by now he had become adept at removing the poster and hiding it at the slightest hint of an interruption. Simon chuckled to himself as he thought of how Olivia just assumed that he was having, uh, ‘Simon Time’, as she put it.

  Ian and Zuko both needed him. And he was determined to be there for them.

  Sufficiently energized, Simon was bolstered by the idea that if he could get to the bottom of Zuko’s mysterious disappearance and the strange behavior from Zuko’s mother that Ian might develop a newfound respect for him. Simon pulled out his desk chair and decided to get to work. With his highly organized and methodical approach, Simon researched Zuko’s case, but to his disappointment, his search did not reveal much. He resolved to reach out to his contact in the student administration department as soon as he could, and see if he could wring any information out of him.

  Since his investigation was not really bearing any fruit, Simon’s gaze drifted up to his poster. The model, with his smoky gaze, his hands holding the collar of his shirt defiantly, and his hips pushed forward provocatively, seemed to dare Simon to make a move and contact Ian. Simon glanced at his phone, scrolled down on his contact list to the entry of Ian Peters, and he found himself involuntarily let out a small squeak. Ian’s casual, relaxed, and somehow oddly reassuring smile made him simultaneously peaceful and breathless with excitement. Simon again fell down onto his bed, this time his attention absorbed by Ian’s image. He selected ‘send text’, and imagined what he would have said if he and Ian were already together.

  Wistfully, he typed in: I miss you. I care about you. I can’t wait to see you soon. His hand tentatively hovered over the ‘send now’ icon, as it had done so many times before.

  “Oh dear mother of Mary, not you again! Get out, you filthy little scoundrel!” Startled by Olivia’s high-pitched screech, Simon found his fingers clutching the phone tighter at the moment of surprise... and to his dismay, he realized that he just sent Ian that pathetic, needy message. He felt all of the blood rush out of his face, and he felt sick.

  “Liv, get in here! Right! Now!” Simon let out a horrified screech of his own, and Olivia scurried over to Simon’s room, her eyes wide with fright.

  “It’s that disgusting little rat, no doubt ridden with diseases, and would you believe it, I swear it gave me a stare down before it scurried away, defiant little... baby, what’s wrong?” Olivia’s eyes were filled with concern as she took in Simon’s hopeless expression. He stared down at the floor and looked like he was on the verge of tears. Wordlessly, he handed Olivia his phone.

  Olivia glanced at it, and burst out in gleeful delight.

  “Baby, you did it! Finally, you gave King Arthur a clue! I’m so proud of you!”

  “Liv, why on earth would you be proud of me for ruining any and all chances I ever might have had with Ian? He must think I’m such a loser right now. I mean, obviously I sent it by mistake when you were hollering down the roof, but how do I explain that? I can’t even, I just …”

  At that very moment, both Simon and Olivia’s eyes widened as Simon’s text notification went off.

  “You do it, you read it. I can’t even bear it. I’m so nervous, Liv. Please, deliver the bad news gently.” Simon paced the room, his hand nervously rubbing the back of his head, and he took a deep breath as he prepared to be humiliated.

  Olivia cleared her throat, ever the drama queen.

  “Hey Simon. I was just thinking about you. Got out of hospital yesterday. Mind if I pop over in a few?”

  Simon met Olivia’s eyes in confusion. “What does that mean? That sounds pretty cryptic.”

  “Well hey, no doubt it’s much less dramatic than what your imagination has conjured up. I say a casual ‘sure’ should do the trick.”

  “Uhm, I guess. After that embarrassing text, there really is no going back.”

  Simon quickly sent Ian the message, and felt another wave of apprehension and uncertainty wash over him. Was Ian heading over to tell him off? To tell him what a loser he was? To tell him he ruined his future prospects at the Weekly? Simon’s head swirled with confusion. He decided the best course of action was to take a shower, apply a modest amount of cologne, and to simply prepare himself for the worst. He might be going down, but he was going down in style.