That was a lot of facial hair for a small man. She wondered why he didn’t tip over with all that hair going on.
“Are you just going to stare at me, new girl or are you going to work?” Scott asked.
Crystal quickly started organizing her papers.
“And don’t ask me how to spell things like lovelorn or broken-hearted or where to put oxford commas,” he admonished. “I’ve got a human interest story to prepare for with interviews this morning at ten so I don’t want to hear a peep out of you. Got it?”
She got it.
If I hadn’t of given my word to Matt, I’d be out of here, she thought as her jaw clenched. She looked over at Marjorie who was grinning.
“Oh don’t pay him no never mind,” Marjorie said, “He thinks he’s cool because he has the parents of the girl who died, coming in for a follow-up interview. A lot of reporters from papers around the province wanted this interview, but Scotty’s the only one they’ll talk to.”
“I asked you not to call me Scotty; my name is Scott Avery.”
“Scotty Scott Scotty. There; whatcha going to do about it?”
In spite of herself, Crystal laughed. Marjorie was a riot and clearly not intimidated by this guy. She thought about what Marjorie had just said. Were these the parents of Lisa Filipowitz; the girl who had died in the hit and run? Well she was close enough to eavesdrop. In the meantime, she focused on the letters.
The word processor was not as noisy as a typewriter, but the hum from the machine was loud; she was concerned that it might drown out the conversation she was hoping to listen in on. Crystal was glad she had learned to touch type in school; she zipped through her notes and by nine o’clock she had her column typed up.
Or so she thought.
Marjorie and her red pen made an incredible amount of squiggles on Crystal’s masterpiece.
“Look hon, here’s a cheat sheet. It will tell you what all my marks mean.”
Crystal was confused. “If you’re going to re-type it anyway…”
“Oh no hon, I don’t have time to correct your work. That’s your job. I want it perfect so I can concentrate on the layout.”
Scott piped up from his desk. “If you screw up enough times, she’ll just throw it back at you and tell you to do it again without even looking at it. And she’ll make sure that you retype it even if you’re retyping the exact same thing over again.”
Crystal nodded and started deciphering the proof-readers marks.
Up until that point in her life, she thought wc was a bathroom. Apparently it meant word choice.
After reading and decoding for about ten minutes, Crystal pushed herself back from her desk. She inadvertently rolled her chair into the wall and made a loud bang.
“New girl!” Scott yelled and then went back to whatever he was doing.
Marjorie just turned and looked at her.
“Man have I got a lot to learn!” Crystal said. “I’m going to be here all day.”
Marjorie clicked her tongue. “Pitter patter, best get at ‘er.”
At that moment Matt and a tall man walked in the door and right up to where Crystal sat.
“This must be Joanne’s daughter! Hi there Crystal, welcome to the team. I’m Ben.”
Crystal stood up and shook Ben’s hand. He smelled like coconut tanning lotion.
Crystal didn’t like the smell of coconut. She grimaced.
Ben laughed. “Oh so that’s what you think of your new boss!”
Crystal had no idea what to say.
Chapter Five
Again, Matt saved her. “Good morning Crystal. How’s the hand today?” Matt went on to explain, “Poor kid, she hurt her hand yesterday helping her mother do some maintenance on our bikes. We want to have them in tip top shape, training begins this week.” Matt waved at Crystal as he and Ben walked to Ben’s office.
Crystal could hear Matt talking before the door shut.
“So did I sign you up yet Ben, to sponsor me, say one dollar a mile?”
“Fat chance,” Ben laughed.
Marjorie snapped her fingers. “I’d open those up, if I were you.” She pointed to the mail Matt had deposited on Crystal’s desk.
Crystal was deflated and energized at the same time. She put off correcting her column and reached for a letter.
“After this week’s column is done,” Marjorie directed.
Crystal pushed up her sleeves and went to work. The new improved column was handed to Marjorie, who raised her heavy black eyebrows.
“Well done new girl! And you’re quite certain you want to rename the column?
“Yes, my mom told me that the ladies in her book club used to call it ‘Betty’s Blatherings’; I really didn’t want to ghost write the column if it had that reputation. Also, I wonder if you could put something at the beginning like ‘previous letters addressed to Betty have been forwarded to CeeCee who will now give advice in CeeCee’s Common Sense’?”
Marjorie pursed her lips. “Did you add that to your column?”
“Nope.”
With a snap, Marjorie handed Crystal back her work.
Crystal went back to her desk and thought about a phrase she recently heard from Matt. ‘Always promise less and deliver more.’ Maybe she would work on next week’s column as well and surprise the daylights out of Marjorie. The thought made her smile as Scott’s voice boomed from across the room. Does that man even know how to whisper she wondered.
“Good morning, Mr. and Mrs. Filipowitz; please follow me to our City Editor’s office; we’ll talk in there.”
Crystal’s mouth hung open. They were the parents of little Lisa; in fact Mrs. Filipowitz was just the taller version of Jennifer that had saved Crystal by befriending her with grape juice. Unfortunately, they were now ensconced inside an office; with no chance of overhearing the conversation.
She so wanted to stomp her feet.
“Those are the parents of the hit and run victim,” Marjorie advised.
“Yes, I met their other daughter at a neighborhood thrift sale yesterday. She said her parents are so depressed, they can’t even function.” Crystal stopped staring at the office door and turned to Marjorie. “It’s so sad, did they ever catch the guy who was driving?”
“The scuttlebutt says it wasn’t a guy; but you didn’t hear it from me. Something funny is going on; some guy with purple snakeskin boots stormed in here a couple of weeks ago to talk to the big boss; but Scott intercepted him.”
“Oh?”
“And that’s about it. They went into Matt’s office, shut the door and about twenty minutes later old purple boots came out happier than a clam. Scotty was looking pretty pleased with himself too.”
“No idea who he was?”
“Nope. Why the interest Crystal?”
Crystal tried to shrug nonchalantly but only succeeded her knocking her empty coffee mug over when she waved her hands. She caught the mug just before it fell. Whew. She did not want the wrath of the unknown Fay.
“It’s a big story. I was curious, that’s all.”
Marjorie eyed her suspiciously. “Can I give you a piece of advice?”
“Sure.”
“Remember this phrase: not my circus…not my monkeys!”
“So don’t stick my nose in where it doesn’t belong?”
“Exactly.”
Crystal continued to smile until Marjorie turned around. She muttered to herself, there is no way I’m taking that advice; as my new boss might say, fat chance! She picked up a new letter. It read:
Dear Betty,
My friend is so bored all the time. She’s always phoning me up and trying to get me to go out with her. Not that she wants to paint the town red; or do anything bad; she always wants to go shopping for clothes or shoes or out for a meal.
Betty, I’m not made of money. I’ve told her I can’t afford to go out with her and then she offers to pay my way; so we go out. We always have a lot of fun; but I can’t help but feel guilty.
Yours tru
ly,
Conscience-stricken Consumer.
Crystal couldn’t come up with a snappy answer; she was upset that her plan to eavesdrop was derailed. She picked up the next letter. Once she read it through, she laughed so loudly that Marjorie asked her if she was okay.
Dear Betty,
I have the dearest friend in the world but she is a number one, grade ‘A’ sponge! She is continually phoning me up and asking me out for lunch or shopping; but when it comes time to pay, she suddenly can’t find her wallet.
Not only am I getting tired of this sham, I am also going broke. The thing is, I really enjoy her company, but how do I tell her to bring her wallet? I don’t want to impute bad motives, but she really has done this to me so many times, I almost think it’s intentional.
Yours truly,
Not asking for much; just wish we were going Dutch.
Dear Conscience-stricken Consumer,
Are you really?
Sincerely,
CeeCee.
P.S. please read the above letter; I don’t think Dutch is asking for much, do you?
The door to the office banged open and Crystal watched as the Filipowitz’s quickly walked past Scott; not even looking at him. He stood, gesturing expansively with his hands. He called out to them, “Peter, Rosa, let’s talk about this! We can work this out!” Scott put his hands on his hips and hollered, “All I’m asking is that you try to be reasonable!” Scott continued to glare at the backs of the retreating couple as he took two steps toward them. He changed his mind, went back into the office and slammed the door shut.
Crystal was appalled. Without thinking, she got up and dashed after the couple.
“Excuse me, Mr. and Mrs. Filipowitz? Can I buy you a cup of coffee or tea or something?”
Rosa had tears in her eyes as she looked up at Crystal. “That is one horrible little man. Do you work with him?”
“Not if I can help it. Please, let’s go to the café and have a bite to eat and a coffee. You know, I met your daughter Jennifer the other day, and she is marvellous.”
Both parents gave a fleeting smile.
“She is at that,” said her Dad.
Uncharacteristically, Crystal hugged Rosa.
“To have raised such a personable intelligent girl, you have to be great parents. I’d love to get to know all about you and your family.”
Both parents recoiled.
“Are you a reporter? We are having nothing to do with reporters ever again!” Peter said, shielding Rosa with his body.
“I’m not going to hurt you! I’m an advice columnist. Look at me. Do I look dangerous?”
The couple looked up at the blonde young woman with a pencil stuck behind her ear. Unlike the Filipowitz’s, she was tall and thin. She didn’t look much older than their Jennifer, and she certainly seemed genuine; those looked like real tears in her eyes. Cautiously they agreed to join Crystal for coffee.
Unfortunately, they sat down before Crystal did, so she had to sit with her back to the door.
“Could we change seats please? I know, I know, I shouldn’t be so antsy about sitting with my back to the door, but, well, I have a lot of hang-ups,” Crystal confessed.
Rosa patted her hand and changed seats with her.
“It’s okay; not everyone can be as outgoing as our Jennifer. Do you know she has won awards in school for public speaking?”
Peter Filipowitz nodded and added to his wife’s comment, “She’s even sold chocolate covered almonds door to door to raise money for the school’s sports team to take a field trip to Calgary to watch the Olympics! She raised the most money; her coach was blown away.”
Crystal shook her head. “That’s unbelievable! I wish I could have gone, but I was, um, otherwise occupied.”
Rosa leaned forward. “What were you doing this past February?”
Crystal looked at the couple. They were so earnest; may as well tell them truth.
“I have issues with crowds and other things; everything can overwhelm me when I least expect it.”
Rosa and Peter nodded.
Crystal continued, “Basically, I have issues with decision making; I take forever to make up my mind. Even about small insignificant things. My mom thinks I have some sort of social anxiety, but I just think I have squirrels in my brain...that chatter constantly.”
The couple smiled and indicated that she should continue talking. Crystal debated if she should tell them more, but the waitress came by.
Peter quickly ordered, “Three coffees and three apple strudels please. One bill; mine.”
Crystal looked firstly at Peter, then at Rosa. “See, that right there, that’s something I am not capable of doing. Not only could I not make up my mind to buy a ticket for the bus going to Calgary this past February, I couldn’t even tell myself that I wanted to go.” She hung her head. “Does that even make sense?”
Rosa said quietly, “Do you know Crystal; this is the first time we’ve been out of our house since our daughter died. Every time we tried to go grocery shopping, for instance, we got overwhelmed. We have been exhausted and can’t even figure out what our priorities should be. We have three other children we should be caring for; but frankly, we haven’t had the energy. So while I don’t have the same issues that you do, I get indecision. If it wasn’t for friends and family, I don’t know how our poor kids would have been fed.”
“Plus Jennifer has been a huge help,” said Peter. “She gets the two little ones to bed and then cleans up, does the laundry, all while maintaining a straight A average at school. I feel so guilty.”
Crystal felt guilty. Here she had been chatting away about her problems when the Filipowitz had lost a child.
“How old are your youngest two?”
“They are exactly the same age; three. Tristan and Kevin; cutest little monkeys you ever saw!” said Peter proudly.
Rosa drank her coffee but pushed the pastry away. “They still keep looking for Lisa and asking about her.”
Crystal felt like crying. “That must be so heart breaking. It’s amazing you could get out of the house today.”
“Well, we were promised one thing, but that little jerk in there didn’t deliver.” Peter slapped the table.
Crystal was horrified. “Why did he do that? What on earth would he get by tricking you?”
“He told us that he was going to write a story about our family; a nice story about our hopes and dreams prior to the hit and run. He wasn’t going to ask us any questions about the horror we went through. Rosa was there you know, waving at Lisa.”
Rosa nodded sadly. “I always would come out to watch her walk home. Her school sits at the end of our road; only one block away from us. From where I stood, I could see Lisa coming home and I could see the boys in the front room window standing on the couch laughing and waiting for their sister.”
Crystal held her breath as Peter continued.
“This Scott Avery promised us a nice pleasant interview; no questions about the ugliness of the hit and run and aftermath. He even told us that he was the only one, out of all the reporters that wanted an interview, that would not exploit us. And, he said he hoped that the person who ran down Lisa would read the article and would be moved with remorse to come forward and confess to the crime. We thought this would be a good thing to do; it would help us to heal to remember the good things.”
“What did Scott actually do?” Crystal gasped.
“He asked the ugly questions,” Rosa said flatly. “He opened up by asking us how long after Lisa was hit by the car did she die? Did she die in my arms? What was the last thing she said to me?”
“Oh my god!” Crystal yelled.
The waitress came rushing to the table.
“Everything okay?”
Crystal shook her head. “No. No it will never be okay again; but we’re handling it, thank you.”
The waitress reluctantly backed away.
“What did you say? I mean, what did you say to Scott after he ambushed you?” C
rystal noticed Peter rubbing his right fist with his left hand. “Did you punch him out?” she asked.
“No, but I wished I had. We didn’t answer him. I think we were so shocked; we couldn’t even speak.”
“Ambushed. Good word, Crystal,” Rosa said. “I started re-living that afternoon; and then Scott really attacked me.”
“No!” said Crystal softly.
“He implied that somehow I was at fault for letting Lisa walk home. Or as he put it; all by herself, all the way home from school with no supervision. An accident waiting to happen.”
“I should have punched him right there and then, but, like I said, we were in shock. We just sat there.”
“And then things started to get really weird,” Rosa added.
“It was almost like he was trying to get us to agree with what he was saying. He would nod and look sad, but then say things like, ‘So you would agree that she shouldn’t have been all by herself on the road?’ I told him she wasn’t on the road, she was on the sidewalk, but then he twisted what I said further. He said, ‘so you agree she shouldn’t have been all by herself?’. I couldn’t say anything. I was angry and afraid of what would come out of my mouth. Then I heard a click.”
Crystal was confused. “A click?”
“Apparently he had been tape recording us with one of those tiny voice activated recorders. It ran out of tape and clicked off,” Peter explained. “It was just what Rosa and I needed to come out of the fog we were in. I asked him what was his objective in asking us to the newspaper for an interview? Didn’t he just want to exploit our pain like everybody else?”
Just then, the bell over the café door rang as a new customer walked in. It was Scott Avery.
The Filipowitz’s looked at Crystal expectedly.
Crystal looked at her nails. She really should say something, but what?
Chapter Six
“What do you think you’re doing here?” Crystal demanded as she got up from the table and approached the reporter.
Scott was flummoxed; that was exactly the question he was going to ask as he saw this pissant advice columnist talking to his people.
“I’m getting a sandwich,” he stammered.
Bury! The Lead Page 4
