Thirty Happens (15 page)

chapter twenty.

A
larm clocks should be illegal.

The obnoxious tone that I paid for this little contraption of punishment to have, tore through my head and made every hair on my head throb in agony.

My hand shot out from under the covers and just started slapping everything in sight, hoping to hit the snooze button to make the torture stop.

The sound finally came to an end and I leaned my head back on my pillow with a sigh.

Why did everything ache? Did I go ten rounds in a boxing ring? Run a marathon?

I was trying to figure out what had happened last night that led to this

Images started flashing through my mind, slowly at first and then gathering speed like an old home movie reel.

I saw the group of us at Karlson’s. I saw limes, salt, and tequila. Lots of tequila. Then, I saw Anderson.

Oh. My. God.

I almost sexed up Anderson on the wall.

And now I had to go to work today.

I should call out. Yeah, I wasn’t feeling so hot all of a sudden. Like, chills, think I might throw up. I think I had the flu.

But they wouldn’t buy that. I did a piece on the importance of the flu shot less than a year ago, so they would probably know that I was all set.

Then another image came to my mind.

I saw The Boston Beacon on the top of a freshly printed newspaper, the ink still slightly damp. Underneath, “Ethics Violation Uncovered at City Hall” by Liam Anderson and Karyn Jensen.

I had to go to work.

Today was going to be one hell of a celebration.

I groaned as I attempted to roll out of bed. Sunlight and consciousness were my worst enemy ever. I was, for the first time ever, grateful that my apartment was beyond tiny, so it would only take me mere steps towards coffee and a handful of pain pills.

I made a quick promise to myself that I would never drink again. Ever.

I laughed at myself.

I would totally drink again. But maybe not mixing beer with shots of tequila. And maybe not three tequila shots. And definitely not with co-workers.

Okay, that was a promise I could probably stick with.

I ambled into the bathroom and just stood under the spray of the shower, willing it to chase the hangover away.

Within a half hour, I was blinking against the excruciatingly bright sunlight as I walked to the T.

I looked around at my fellow commuters, grinning when I saw the headlines on the newspapers. There was a cool feeling, looking, seeing the shock on their faces while they read what I wrote, but knowing that they had no clue the author was standing among them.

That was such a high for me. When writing for the college paper, the small population of the school knew who I was. I’d never experienced the rush of anonymously watching people absorb my craft.

A girl could get used to this.

I walked into the paper, expecting something. Balloons perhaps. Flowers, maybe.

What was waiting for me?

A day like every other.

No fanfare, no accolades.

Somewhere in the middle of it all, I forgot something vitally important to my sanity. While for me this was a first and a big deal, for The Beacon a front page story was a daily occurrence. I tried to swallow the disappointment as I opened up my laptop to start the day.

Checking my email, I saw a note from Jenkins calling a meeting at 1pm. I looked quickly at my calendar. I was clear. To pass the few hours I worked on cleaning up a few articles had come back from some of the editors.

Buzzzzz. Buzzzzzzzz.

I looked at my cell phone that was vibrating on my desk and frowned. Unknown caller. I shrugged. Might be a bill collector so I refused to pick it up. If it was important, and not a collection agency, they would leave a message.

I looked at the clock. I had just about enough time to pee, grab a coffee, get my laptop and make it to the main conference room before the meeting started.

Buzzzzz. Buzzzzzzzz.

Huh.

Unknown caller.

Sorry, unknown caller, you would have to either leave a message or unmask your number. I shoved my phone in my back pocket and quickly walked to the bathroom.

I managed to slide into the conference room just before Jenkins walked in.

“Okay folks, sorry to have surprised you like this, but this was a last minute decision from the senior management team. We have some very important matters to discuss, and actually, the managing editors should be here in a few seconds to join us.”

As if on cue, three of the paper’s managing editors walked in, and I noticed that the reporters seated around the table sat up just a little bit straighter. Yeah, we saw them around here and there throughout the year, but I don’t think many of us had been graced with their presence in a meeting before.

“Sorry that we are a little late. Thank you all for coming on short notice. We asked Marv to assemble the team, because of something very important that needs to be said.”

Caroline Snyder walked around at the front of the room, talking sternly and looking at us as if we had done something wrong.

She looked each and every one of us in the eyes before breaking into a huge smile.

“Congratulations to the investigative team of Anderson and Jensen on not only scooping every other form of media in the area on the ethics violation story but also having the number one trending story online at this moment. As a matter of fact, as I drove by city hall, there were local and national news vans parked all the way around the block.”

I sat back in my chair, my mouth slightly open in shock.

Wow.

“This is a huge accomplishment for The Beacon, and despite an overall decline in subscriptions, today’s paper is selling out all over the state.”

A smattering of applause around the table lifted my spirits immeasurably.

“Enjoy a little champagne and some sandwiches, with our thanks for your hard work.”

So much for never drinking again. I was salivating at the thought of those champagne bubbles going down my throat.

They were passing around the flutes when Jenkins tapped me on the shoulder.

“Hey, could I see you a moment?”

“Sure, now?”

He nodded and turned to walk out of the conference room.

“Be right back, guys, don’t drink all the bubbly without me.”

Anderson raised his glass and winked at me.

Gag.

I followed Jenkins back to his office. He indicated for me to sit down and shut the door behind me.

“So, Jay, what did you think of your first big story?”

I thought for a second before answering, knowing that he preferred a thought out answer over a quick answer.

“It was a lot more work than I ever anticipated. There were nights I felt like I’d been physically assaulted, collapsing in bed as soon as I walked through the door. Some mornings I woke up wearing the same clothes I’d worn the day before. One time I was still wearing sneakers.”

He smirked.

“And?”

“Annnnd… it was the best experience of my life.” I grinned at him, allowing him to see the full level of enthusiasm I had for the experience of being a part of that story. With Jenkins, I could drop the professional demeanor and let him see the real feelings that I hid most of the time.

“You did good work.
Really
good work. And there are some people who are taking notice.”

“That means so much to me coming from you, Jenks, but I need to point out that it was a joint effort. I was only half of a two person team. Anderson deserves just as much of this conversation as I do.”

He smiled at me, his eyes showing that he had something up his sleeve.

“Well, there’s something that we’ve not been fully truthful with you on. You see, you’ve been producing excellent feature stories for The Beacon, but I knew you had a desire to get your feet wet with investigative work. That’s not something that is easy to break into, namely because it is what
everyone
wants to get involved in, and you’ve only been with us four years. I suggested to some of the managing editors that we have you work with Anderson on a couple of pieces, to get you the experience you need but under the observation and direction of a more senior reporter.

Anderson was game, and the reports that he has given us on your work have been nothing but positive. After this piece, The Beacon would like to offer you a position as an investigative reporter for the online division. I know it’s not the main paper like you would prefer, but it’s a stepping stone in the right direction. And, there are times that your online stories will be pulled for paper use as well. Is that something you would be interested in?”

I was just about to burst out of my skin, I was so beside myself with excitement.

“Are you
kidding
me? This is the most amazing thing ever. You seriously have just made this the best moment of my life.”

Buzzzzz. Buzzzzzzzz.

I frowned again at my phone, moving it from vibrate to silent with a frustrated stab of my finger.

“Sorry about that.”

He cocked his head at me.

“Anything important?”

“No, just this annoying sales person or something. This is the third or fourth time they’ve called in the last few hours. I figure if it’s important, they’d leave a message or something.”

I waved my hand in the air as if pointing out how unimportant it was.

“I’m super excited about this. When do I start?”

He sat back, intertwining his fingers behind his head as he rocked back in his chair.

“Jay, I want to warn you, this is going to be a lot of hard work. You are going to be working a ton of hours, you’ll feel like you’re going twenty four hours a day. There won’t be many days off. Are you prepared for that level of commitment?”

“I’ve been ready my whole life. Seriously, I’ve got this, Jenkins. I won’t let you down.”

I jumped up, ran around the desk and jumped him with a big bear hug.

“Okay, okay. Don’t get all ‘girl’ on me, Jay. You’re a reporter, dammit.”

I just laughed at his gruffness.

“So, what’s next?”

“You’re going to need to report to your new manager. I need to warn you a little, she had someone else picked out for this gig, so she’s going to be a little hard on you at first. Hang in there, crack her tough outer shell, and you’ll find she’s a pretty decent, fair person. The online division has its own group of editors, but for the time being, why don’t you run your stuff through me, first?”

I got it. That was protection. My feelings of elation were deflating a little bit as I got that overwhelming anxiety of walking into the lion’s den wearing Lady Gaga’s meat dress.

“Uh, sure, of course.”

“Great. So, you’re reporting to Brenda Wilson. Online is one floor down. Slightly different culture down there, but you’ll do fine.”

I hugged him again and went to my cube to store my laptop. I realized that I’d be moving. Again. For now, I just wanted to go meet Brenda and try to make a great first impression.

My stomach was in knots, replaying Jenks’ words.

She had someone else.

Hard on me at first.

This day was feeling like the world’s most twisty turning roller coaster. Woke up, hangover. Work, celebration. Jenkins, promotion. Brenda, hard ass bitch who wants me to fail. Okay, maybe that was a bit too harsh, I mean, I don’t think I’d ever met her or anything, but if I were to read between the lines, that was what Jenkins was trying to tell me.

I walked to the stairs to head one floor down.

Buzzzzz. Buzzzzzzzz.

Okay, seriously, this was getting annoying as hell. I was on the Do Not Call Registry.

I hit accept.

“Hello?”

I did my best to fill that one word with all the frustration I had with the multiple calls.

“Hello, is this Karyn Jensen?”

“Yes, this is. And who the hell is this? I’m on the Do Not Call list and you’ve been blowing up my phone.”

That’s right, you bastard, feel the wrath of Karyn.

“Ms. Jensen, this is Gerald from the Emergency Room at Mass General. You were listed as an emergency contact on Kimberly Jensen’s phone. Are you a relative?”

“Tha- that’s my mom. Why do you have my mom’s phone? Where’s my mom?”

My voice rose with the growing hysteria I was feeling.

“Ma’am. I’m afraid there’s been an accident.”

I didn’t hear another word he said. I didn’t even remember hearing his name. I’m sure he told me his name, but it was gone from my mind.

I opened the door that was in front of me, forgetting for a moment why I was on the stairwell. Forgot where I was going.

I walked in, and looked around, my eyes were seeing everything around me, but my brain was not comprehending.