Chapter 33

"I've seen some of Matilda's photos," Sheila said the next morning.

She was leaning against the outside edge of my cubicle, looking in at me and tapping a long French-manicured finger nail on the plastic wall-divider. "They're amazing of the kids and alarming of the facility, a perfect combination of heart-warming and bone-chilling."

I laughed. "I love how you put that. I've yet to see them."

I was putting a finishing touch on a pitch for Sally. Matilda and I had decided to go the route I'd talked about with Charles. I was going to try playing Sally's game for Social Scene and write a separate piece, and Matilda and I would approach one of the other divisions with our orphanage story.

"You're going to keep working on this story, right?" Sheila asked. "I'd be sad if you gave up now."

"Oh yes," I assured her. "I don't think Matilda would let it go either. She's too invested in these kids' lives."

I caught a whiff of Stan's feta scent a moment before he appeared next to Sheila.

"Are you seriously still working on that story?" he demanded. "Still? Aren't you listening to anything I say?"

"Not really, Stan. I'm not."

"Elena, you need to back off. It's making the rest of us have to work harder."

"How? Last time I checked I didn't have a single article approved. You, on the other hand, have pitched three things that did get approved. You're doing a good job of staying busy yourself."

"It makes you look snobby, Elena," he said, his voice taking on a growl. "This adherence to ethics or whatever it is you're claiming."

I decided I was tired of male werewolves thinking they could boss me around, particularly this one, who had no standing or status over me. He had no right to tell me what to do or try to make me feel bad.

"I don't care what you think, and I will not change my ethics because you're a lazy muckraker."

Stan bristled. "I don't have to take that from you."

"I'm only dishing out what you're serving up, Stan. If you are going to insult my work ethic than I'm not going to hold back telling you what I see from this end."

Sheila leaned away, looking at him sideways. "She's right, Stan. Don't throw down what you can't pick up."

Stan sputtered and began to puff up.

"Come on, Stan." Kevin had come up behind him. He put a hand on Stan's shoulder and forcibly turned the other male around. "Let's go get coffee before the pitch meeting."

He threw me and Sheila a sympathetic look over his shoulder as he steered Stan away.

"It's ridiculous," Sheila sighed. "Some males think they're the boss of everything. You did a good job standing up for yourself."

She tapped her fingernails on my cubicle again. "Ready?"

"Yep!" I gathered my notes and followed her to the conference room, optimistic that Sally would finally approve a story.

Sheila and I greeted Matilda and sat by her on the far end of the table. Kevin came in a moment later and scooted his chair next to mine.

"Sorry about Stan," he said, leaning closer, smelling of the coffee he was holding and his soft leather scent. I noticed Sheila give him a look and suddenly wondered if she liked him.

"You're right, of course," Kevin continued. "He really has no right to tell you what to do."

I shrug. "People try to do it all the time."

"Because of the scent thing?" Kevin asked. "Yeah, I've been meaning to ask you about that."

Sally walked in at that moment and prevented me from having to explain myself yet again.

Stan came in and glared at our side of the table, sitting as far away from me as he could.

"It's like he's a child," Sheila whispered to me. "Just ignore him, Elena."

Sally called the meeting to order, gave us some updates, and then the pitches started. Stan was the second to go.

Instead of pitching his usual story, he looked at me and said, "I'd like to make a public complaint."

Everyone's eyes went to him, and anyone who was zoning out because of the late hour was suddenly awake.

"Are you sure this isn't something we should talk about one-on-one first," Sally said, a warning in her voice.

"Yes. I want to point out that I don't think it's right that Elena continues to work on a story you've told her twice is inappropriate for our pages while the rest of us are getting real, printable stories finished."

There was a small silence around the table.

"I happen to have a different story to pitch today," I said, leaning forward. "If you wait to hear my pitch, you may find your concerns aren't necessary. I assure you, I do want to be a team player here."

I saw Matilda and Sheila smile out of the corner of my eye. Stan looked livid.

"You're taking up our resources, using hours you should be devoting to Social Scene to other things," he objected.

I wanted to retort, But you're the one who told me I needed to work less hard because it made you looked bad. But I didn't. I needed to rise above his accusations.

"This is not the appropriate venue for this," Sally said, scowling. "If you have a problem with any other employees or the way I run things here, Stan, you need to come to me privately."

Stan looked stunned. "I just..."

"We will speak about this later. And Elena?"

I looked up at her, worried. "Yes?"

"Let's also talk. After this meeting if that works for you?"

I nodded, thinking I might have to text Charles that I'd be a little late.

When Sally got to me, she asked, "Let's talk about your stories after this."

"Okay." For the third time I was going to leave without having a story approved. She hadn't even wanted to hear the one I'd built specifically to fit Social Scene.

Kevin gave me an encouraging smile before he faced the table to make his pitch and I thought again about him and Sheila, trying to distract myself from the demoralized feeling that was growing inside me.

I had tried hard to make everyone happy and ended making no one happy, except maybe Matilda who worked on multiple projects and so didn't need to worry about out story being her main line of inquiry. She was obviously loving the kids and photographing something besides vomiting socialites.

As everyone stood to go, I hesitated, bracing myself to talk to Sally. She was frowning at her computer.

"Elena, can you give me five minutes? I need to answer this. I'll buzz you when I'm ready."

I stood, my stomach a nervous knot. "Of course."

People all around me were packing up and getting into their coats.

I sat in my cubicle and texted Charles that I would be another few minutes, and then stared at my computer screen. I had a horribly familiar feeling, just like the one I'd had back when I was working for Craig and knew my job was in jeopardy.

Was I about to be fired again?

Charles would be delighted. I would have to be his assistant who did nothing. I would slowly wilt out of worthlessness.

"Hey," I looked up. Kevin stood smiling down at me.

"Oh! Kevin. Hi."

"You'll be fine."

"Thanks."

We stood, staring at each other for a moment.

He shifted nervously.

"So, maybe tonight isn't the night. But would you want to have dinner with me? Maybe tomorrow? I know this great little Italian place. It's at the end of an alley and if you didn't know it was there you'd totally miss it."

"I've been there," I said before I thought about it.

"Oh, really?"

"Yeah, it was delicious."

"We could always go somewhere else."

"Oh, no, I'd go back, but I actually have plans tomorrow night."

I didn't want to say I was going out with the boss tomorrow, and for the foreseeable future. If Charles didn't want people to know about us, then I would follow suit.

My phone buzzed. It was Sally.

"Good luck," Kevin said, slinging his bag over his shoulder and turning to go. "Like I said, you'll be fine."

"Thanks."

I stood and smoothed my skirt. I wished I felt as confident in me as he was.