Chapter 21

Sally was still seated at the head of the table, typing into her laptop. I waited until she closed the machine and began to gather her supplies.

"Sally, may I have a moment?"

She sat back down, her eyes tired and wary, but she smiled at me anyway.

"Of course, Elena. I'm glad you have questions."

I could tell from the weariness in her voice that she was less than glad, but I wasn't picking up any sarcasm or anger.

I suddenly felt sorry for the woman sitting at the head of the table. There was something heavy weighing on her. It was obvious in her every move.

I approached and sat closer, leaning forward. "I just want to know what I can do to improve. Obviously, what I had wasn't what you were looking for."

"Yes, it's not really the direction we are going in right now. Did you look at the archives like I asked?"

"I did. And I talked to some of the other staff about what they are doing."

Sally looked at me silently, her eyebrows raised as if to say, and so...?

"So maybe I misinterpreted what I read. I was trying to find the link between stories to see what Social Scene stands for, and the only thing I can find is that they all have eye-catching content of some kind."

Sally nodded.

"I thought I had something," I added, "that managed to be both eye-catching and meaningful."

"Well, that's a good start, Elena. You're correct about the eye-catching content. It's what gets us some of the best circulation and advertising dollars in the company."

I was quiet, trying to formulate my question. Sally waited patiently, watching me.

"I'm feeling a little silly," I said. "But I can't imagine what's more scandalous and eye-catching then having child abuse and government in the same headline."

To my surprise Sally laughed. She smiled and looked at the ceiling for a moment, then back at me.

"You've got a point, Elena."

She took a deep breath, as if debating how much she wanted to say. Something, however, stopped her mid-breath. I instantly knew what was coming.

"Interesting scent you have there," she said, looking at me more closely. She waved her nose back and forth a few times in my direction. "Very unique."

I was flattered. "Most people say I don't have one," I said, more shy than I wanted to be.

"Oh no," she said. "There's definitely something there."

"I like it.” She looked at me and smiled. “Now, about your story. Your idea could be eye-catching to some people, but not as much to the readers for Social Scene.

“Isn’t that conclusion a bit arbitrary? Since we are called Social Scene, we should also include things about the government and the more grand scale of humanity?”

“You ask those questions because you didn’t read enough of our paper,” Sally smiled. “It's more 'society' being the definition of people who move in the public eye, that small category of celebrity we often call 'society', and the topics they bring up."

"For example, if the heiress daughter of a millionaire suddenly shows up at clubs wearing all red plastic wrap, we do an article on her and another one on the particular fetish she's representing with her clothing."

"So, it's all about celebrities, sex and drugs?" I ask.

Sally shrugged. "Lately, yes."

I was not convinced, and I knew Sally could tell.

She smiled reassuringly at me and got up.

"Take your time. You've got no deadline as of now. Get acquainted with the paper. Maybe ask Sheila if you can byline on one or two of her articles until you get the hang of it."

I wanted to object. It was the same situation I'd been in under Craig. Right now, however, I was still new enough that I had no influence and nothing to say.

I nodded.

"Have a good night," she said, smiling, sniffing slightly in my direction and nodding her head in approval before she went out the door.

My feet felt like they were dragging as I went back to my desk.

I had been confident that I'd found the perfect solution, the balance between scandalous headlines and staying true to my integrity. It had fallen flat.

For a moment, I wanted to give up the whole idea about the orphanage.

But no. It was important to me, and I couldn't give up now.

Even if I disagreed with Sally about what would attract readers of Social Scene, she was the boss. I would need to continue this project on my own.

The phone rang, interrupting my pouting. I picked it up, dread in my stomach. I knew who it would be.

"How did it go?" I could catch a cheerful note in his voice even through the phone.

"I think you know the answer."

"Yes, hang up and have dinner with me."

"It's not 8:30 yet."

"Then come do your work here."

"No."

"Then I'll send security to get you."

"Send them."

"And I may feel talkative and give you some inside information on how things work on the 10th floor."

That made me pause. It was annoying, but he did have insider knowledge about everything I was dealing with.

"Fine." I said, and hung up the phone as hard as I could without hurting anything.

I grabbed my bag and my laptop, and went through the darkened office to the elevators.

I was relieved to see Amy and Jessica's desks were empty. Charles was standing in the doorway smiling at me.

"I won the bet," he taunted as I got nearer.

I sat down on the couch and opened my laptop. I looked up at him, beaming down at me with his beautiful smile, his dark hair tousled from the activity.

Despite myself, I wondered what his hair would feel like under my fingers. His scent was starting to creep into my mind.

"I'm sorry," I said. "I am being a sore loser. I'm just disappointed in myself, that's all."

He flopped down on the couch across from me.

"Don't be. No one wins when they bet against me."

"It's not about you," I said, exasperated. "It was about me understanding what Sally wanted."

"We can talk about it over dinner, I promise. I just need to get some things wrapped up first."

I nodded, pulling up Social Scene's archives. "I'm going to be busy trying to figure out what I did wrong."

He smiled and leaned forward.

"I'm glad you're here. I work so much better with you around."

I did my best to smile at him. He sighed, got up, and went back to his desk, sitting, so he was directly facing me across the flat surface and one of the couches.

Occasionally when I looked up, I'd catch him looking at me, a puzzled look on his face. He'd just smile and go back to his computer.

I'd read at least ten different stories, and was taking notes on a notepad when he got up to stretch.

He didn't say anything but walked to the wall of windows and looked out. Then he went to the drinks cabinet behind me.

I didn't bother looking up, but kept reading, hearing the hiss and fizz of him pouring two glasses of sparkling water.

I heard him come up behind me, pause, and then a clink as he put the glasses down.

Something warm and soft began to touch the back of my neck. When I jerked forward in surprise Charles' fingers tightened on my neck.

I grabbed at his hands and started to stand, panic rising in my chest.

"So you like this kind of stuff, eh?" I heard him say. "It's always the quiet ones."

His hands suddenly released me and I whirled around, furious.

"What the hell are you playing at?" I demanded.

He looked surprised and put up his hands in a gesture of innocence. "I was just going with what you were reading."

He pointed at my computer, a wicked smile on his face.

I looked at my laptop computer screen. The article for Social Scene I was looking at was about BDSM.