Thirty Happens (5 page)

chapter five.

T
here was no way I was going to be able to do this.

Nope.

No way at all.

I looked up again for the tenth time at the iconic brick building that had covered the most important news stories for over two centuries.

I looked down at the dip in the granite step, worn down from the newsmen and newswomen, copy editors, designers, and press operators who crossed the threshold of this building for over a century. The history in this one step was overwhelming me.

I couldn’t do this.

I wasn’t worthy of this opportunity. I had thought I was ready, but I was so
not
ready.

I smoothed out my pencil skirt, wondering if I was underdressed. I wore flats not knowing if there would be a lot of walking. As I took in the size of the building, I realized that I had absolutely made the right choice in footwear.

Ugh.

I started to turn to walk away, still fighting the internal battle that was raging as to whether or not I was ready.

“You coming in or are you going to stand outside all day like a decoration? If you’re going to pick staying outside, we could probably use you to park cars.”

Huh?

My head whipped around to see someone poking their head out of the large glass doors at the front of the building.

An older man stood there, smiling at me kindly. I normally didn’t love being the butt of a joke within seconds of meeting someone, but there was something about this guy that relaxed me. Kind of like my reaction to Statlin.

“Guess I have to come in now, the opportunity to go unnoticed has apparently passed,” I grinned at him and ducked under his arm into the lobby of the historic building.

I stood there for a moment, breathing in the air that circulated. I imagined that it was the same air that centuries of journalists had breathed, even though I knew that it had been filtered, probably gone through some high grade HEPA air purifier and shot outside so many times that it was new.

I turned to the kind man standing next to me and pulled myself up to my full five foot four height. I looked him in the eye and held out my hand.

“Hi, I’m Karyn Jensen. I’m here for my internship. Professor Statlin sent me.”

His smile only grew at this information.

“How’s that old coot doing? I have to call him, maybe go out for a couple drinks and chew over old times.”

He held his hand out to me.

“Marv Jenkins. I’m the Senior Editor here at the Beacon. You’ll be reporting to me during your internship. Statlin said you are the best and brightest in the Journalism program, so we circumvented the normal process.”

Wow. I mean, wow. I knew that Stat liked me and all, but the best and brightest? That was a bit much to live up to. I started chewing on my lower lip, a nervous habit I had. Some of the romance books I liked to read made that out to be something sexy and sultry. I caught myself in the mirror doing it once. It was neither sexy nor sultry; it looked like some odd form of cannibalism.

“Mr. Jenkins, I’m honored to be here and I promise I will do my best to fulfill this internship.”

His loud, boisterous laughter echoed through the granite and marble lobby. A few people stopped and turned, a knowing smile on their own faces. I got the impression that laughter was common from this man, and that relaxed me. In all the books and movies I’d ever experienced that were centered around a newsroom, the senior editor was usually a loud, angry person who was barking orders and taking no prisoners. Marv looked as if he would be incredible to work for.

“Please, call me Jenkins. We’re fairly informal around here, and everyone ends up being called by their last name. It will be a little strange having a Jensen. I’m not as young as I once was, my hearing is a bit shot from so much time near the presses. I have a feeling I’m going to get a little mixed up with how close our names are.”

He pondered this dilemma a bit, but not too long. He shrugged his shoulders.

“Eh, we’ll figure it out as we go.”

“Mr. uh, I mean Jenkins, what exactly is it that I’ll be doing as your intern? I don’t mean to be too forward asking this within a half hour of meeting, but I really didn’t get any details. I sort of was just told where and when.”

I was a little concerned that I had perhaps overstepped, but I needed to know what my purpose was here. I really hoped this wasn’t a coffee fetching type internship, where I’d be more a personal assistant then an aspiring award winning news journalist.

Jenkins shook his head while continuing to chuckle.

“Statlin really didn’t give you any of the info? Probably one of his ridiculous tests or life lessons that he wants to impart on you. We’ll go over your job description, pay, expectations and everything else after we get your paperwork taken care of.”

“Pay?” I didn’t mean for that to slip out. But seriously, I had thought this was unpaid and I was fine with it. I just wanted this experience, and hopefully a foot in the door.

“You thought this was going to be unpaid? Nope, we’re not really into slave labor here, and we will be working you more than the money you’ll be earning. You’ll be making barely above minimum, so I’m a little embarrassed to call it pay. But the experience you’ll be getting is going to blow your college newspaper time out of the water.”

He held his hand up as I quickly jumped to defend our little paper. We’d won awards, the work we were doing was really top notch.

“Please don’t misunderstand me. I’ve read your paper, and I admire your work. But remember, I worked in a college paper environment a lifetime ago. The two have almost nothing in common except for the end result. This internship will be an education beyond anything you’ve ever experienced. I think you’re up to it. That’s why I chose you.”

Huh.

It wasn’t often I was left speechless. I tended to be more like a bull in a china shop. I might be tiny, petite, or (worst of all) cute, but I liked to think I was a force to be reckoned with. At least that was what I wanted people to think. For someone to render me wordless almost never happened. And this was the second time it had happened in a month.

“I guess I don’t understand. What do you mean that you chose me?”

“We have an intern pool that we choose from. Usually, there are ten times more applicants than we have positions for. We have a team that scans all the resumes and credentials and narrows the pool down. They then hold pre-screening interviews where they get a better feel for the candidates. That helps them whittle the pool down even further. Based on experience and personality, they forward candidates to the editors to pick from. We have twenty five internship openings each semester.”

I was immensely grateful that I had somehow skipped all of those steps. I had been nervous enough leading up to this first day. I couldn’t even begin to imagine what I’d have been like if I’d had to go through screenings and interviews and being a piece of paper in a stack of hopefuls.

“So why didn’t I have to do all of that?”

“You came very highly recommended.”

Eek.

“Don’t worry, it worked out well for me. It is such a pain in the ass having to sift through piles of paperwork trying to figure out who someone is based on a bulleted list of their life accomplishments, especially when the people being represented on paper haven’t even attempted to live life yet. I know you kids think you’re so grown up and worldly, but you haven’t even had to pay your own bills really yet.”

His eyes glazed a little bit like he was thinking about something sad. Just as quickly as it came, the glimmer of sadness left and the twinkle returned to his eyes.

“Um, glad to have made your life easier?”

“You sure as hell did. Statlin has never sent me an intern before. Thirty years I’ve known that man, and he has never once told me that I had to take someone on. Instead of having to read resumes, I got to read newspapers. That was a preferred method of getting to know you than reading bullet points. You would not believe how many of them are absolutely identical.
Identical
. It’s almost as if they paid the same person to over-inflate their meager life accomplishments.”

He shook his head again, incredulously this time, before starting walking forward.

I scurried behind him, grateful that I thought to wear flats because I would already have face planted if I wore the heels that I had briefly considered.

We walked through a maze of cubicles, the steady clicking of keys on laptops as soothing to me as spa music. I was impressed at the speed he moved considering his age.

The further and further we wove through the building my anxiety returned. How the hell was I ever going to find my way through this building?

“I suppose we should probably hand out bread crumbs when we welcome a new employee, that way you can find your way out.”

“Get out of my head, seriously.”

He turned and looked at me curiously. Oops.

“I mean, I was totally just thinking that.”

I was rewarded with a smile.

“Great minds and all that. We’re almost to our area.”

What seemed like a few miles later he stopped before a corner office that had huge windows on both sides of the wall with amazing views of Boston seaport district. The door closed behind me and I was shocked how quiet the office was. All of the hustle and bustle from the newsroom outside the door went silent as the door closed. The sound of a saxophone softly playing filled the room and I was shocked at how quickly I relaxed in this office.

His desk was huge, clunky and worn. No sleek edges, no glass topper to protect it. There were scratches and dings, enough to let you know that this was an older desk, possibly an antique, and a piece of office furniture that was there to be used, not admired from a distance. His leather office chair was faded from the sunlight and cracked from years of use and abuse. The groan the chair made was audible as Jenkins lowered himself in it. This room was heaven and everything I wanted for myself. Life goal.

“Ok, Jensen, let’s get the boring paperwork stuff done. Normally I would send you down for a week long orientation with the other interns, and run you by our Human Resources department, but you will learn more shadowing me for a couple days.”

He pushed an impressive stack of papers my way. If I was a tree hugger I would have gone into an apoplectic rage. However, I’d never hugged a tree in my whole life so I shrugged it off and grabbed the offered pen and got to work.

While I filled out documents asking me my name, date of birth and social security number over and over and over again, I paid attention to the work Jenkins was doing in the background. He probably took fifteen phone calls during the time that I was filling out all of the new hire paperwork, answering both his cell phone and his work phone. Once he was talking on both in the weirdest type of conference call in the history of mankind. I was impressed at how level headed he was through everything, even when it seemed to get heated. I was also impressed and kind of intimidated at how he was able to keep everything straight when he had about ten different projects he was working on at once.

I didn’t really know what I was going to be doing here, but dear Lord, if this was the guy I was going to be working with, I had a feeling there were some pretty high expectations for me.

chapter six.

O
w.

My feet and legs were absolutely killing me. I was careful not to use the word ‘literally’ in my mind, because I’d already been gently corrected today. As in, ‘Jensen, your feet aren’t
literally
plotting your demise while you sleep, detaching themselves from your body and stabbing you in the dark.’ Apparently, a pet peeve of my new mentor, and I’ll do whatever was necessary to keep him happy with me.

Hard to believe I’d been on the beat for just about a week. There were moments that I felt as if I’d been here my whole life. Then there were moments, like now, when I was trying to accomplish the simple task of finding the ever elusive coffee pot where it was glaringly obviously that I was new.

I finally found the small staff kitchen where the coffee was kept. I was irrationally proud of myself that I only took three wrong turns this time. This was the fourth coffee run of the day. I wasn’t certain that drinking this much coffee was good for anyone. I mean, it was two in the afternoon and we were drinking liquid caffeine as if we had crammed overnight for a final.

I thought of my teeth. Ew. I was going to end up with yellow stained teeth if I wasn’t careful. Mental note: pick up whitening products on my way back to the dorm.

WHAM!

I ran into a wall. A warm wall. A very firm, muscular, warm wall. I looked up into a slightly worn face, with a five o’clock shadow (yum), and sparkling blue eyes.

“Oh my God, I am so sorry. I wasn’t looking where I was going and was kind of lost in my head, and it took me four tries to find this place again and I’m worried I’m going to end up with yellow teeth from all this coffee. And now I’m rambling.” I could feel the blush making its way up my neck past my cheeks. I had a tendency to overshare and babble when faced with hot men. I would be an epic fail as a heroine in a romance novel.

I slapped the palm of my hand against my forehead. Which was childish. And dorky. And embarrassing.

I raised my eyes to meet his, which were looking both entertained and, I don’t know… proud. That was weird.

“I’m Anderson. Liam Anderson.”

Oh. My. Freakin. God.

Liam freakin’ Anderson.

My friends at school crushed on Hollywood boys. Seriously. Ben. Matt. Orlando.

Me? I crushed on newsmen. And by newsmen, I did
not
mean Ron Burgundy.

Blyeck. Ron Burgundy skeeved me right out.

Liam was the bad boy of the news world. Hot damn. I would do things to that man. Given the opportunity, I would show that news nerds could be sexy.

Wait a minute.

I was pretty sure that somewhere I’d read that he was married.

My eyes dropped to his left hand and saw no glint of gold. Hmm. Maybe I had heard wrong.

I shook my head as I walked past him. I looked back over my shoulder at him.

“Nice to meet you. I’m Karyn Jensen, rather, Jensen around here, I guess.”

He nodded slowly, in a weird, knowing way.

“Ah, Jenkin’s girl.”

Something in the way he called me Jenkin’s ‘girl’ rubbed me wrong.

“I’m sorry, perhaps you are slightly mistaken. I am Marv Jenkin’s
intern
. I am not his girl, whatever the hell that means. So, you can take your award winning journalist supremacist attitude and shove it up your way too tight ass.”

I was filling up the coffee mugs while I said that, finally tossing my hair back over my shoulder as I turned and gave him a disgusted once over. I brushed by him, grazing my shoulder against his side, choosing to ignore that his body heat seared my arm.

Damn.             

That had never happened before. My skin sizzled over just one light touch. I decided that it was the effect of the lethal amount of caffeine that I had consumed during the day and was in no way related to the narcissistic, self-righteous prick of a sex god that stood before me.

Don’t look back.

Don’t look back.

Don’t look back.

I was proud of myself for walking away without looking back. I desperately wanted to look over my shoulder, if only to raise my lip in a snarl at him. Yeah.
That
was the reason I wanted to look back.

I took a quick left turn to the office and out of the corner of my eye, I saw him still standing there. I was certain that I’d been stealthy, except for the smirk and slight incline of his head.

UGH.

He was so freaking stuck on himself. I was so out of my league. I made a mental note to stay far, far away from him at all costs.

“Ah, good, Jensen. Was afraid you had gotten lost. Again.”

I rolled my eyes at him while handing over the still steaming cup of coffee.

“Calm down, I made it back safely without you having to send out a search crew.”

He took a deep drink of the inky colored brew, sighing with contentment and closing his eyes as if he was drinking coffee from a French café.

I took a tentative sip and shuddered. Truth was, I’d had better coffee from a gas station. Holy crap, this was some nasty shit. But I was exhausted, and this was caffeine. I had somehow gone past the point of giving a shit about the fact that I was drinking this swill and calling it ‘coffee’.

“So, there’s a mixer tonight for all of the interns to meet each other. It’s in about twenty minutes. I wasn’t thinking you’d want to go, but I was advised to let you know about it so you would have the opportunity to meet your fellow interns so you wouldn’t be isolated during this experience.” He looked at me a little sheepishly. I had already seen that he saw me as more an employee than an intern, and for some reason, he was nervous calling me ‘intern’.

I was getting paid. Paid to do what I wanted to do more than anything in the universe, and paid by my dream newspaper. He could call me a hooker for all I cared. I had thought this internship was an unpaid one, and even then I would have had to promise sexual favors to be the successful candidate.

“Jay, I think I have something that will make you incredibly motivated to be the best intern in the universe and the envy of all other interns that have ever walked these halls.”

Jay?

“What the eff, Jenkins? Jay?”

“Yeah, Jensen seems too long to be saying all the time.”

Seriously? I raised an eyebrow and looked at him with my head tilted.

“Lazy ass.”

His eyes bugged for a moment before I was rewarded with his trademarked laughter.

“I can’t believe it, Jay. You’ve been here less than twenty four hours and you have no fear of me.”

I grinned at him. For some crazy reason, I realized that this was a compliment. A huge freakin’ compliment.

“You’ll survive, Jenk. So what’s the drill? I go, I wine, and I dine and make all the other interns jealous?”

“Uh, yeah, something like that.”

I smacked him lightly on the arm.

“What are you worried about? It wouldn’t kill me to make some friends.”

“It might not kill
you
, but once your peers found out that you had a cushy gig that might actually result in a legitimate article with your name in the byline?” Jenkins let out a heavy sigh and shook his head.

“What do you mean ‘legitimate article’?”

“That’s the thing that I was telling you would motivate you. I’m thinking of having you write an article that may end up getting published by the end of the semester.”

He looked sort of proud of himself.

“So, why would that cause problems for me?”

“You have not experienced the craziness that is true journalistic jealousy, Jay.”

Hmm. Interesting.

“Don’t worry, Jenks. I can handle myself. Besides, what’s so different between me and them?”

“Easy. You’re going to be writing, they’ll be fetching coffee. You’ll be breaking news and they’ll be picking up dry cleaning. You’ll be in line for a legitimate staffer position and they’ll be padding their resume with this ‘experience’ and will move on to a local free paper.”

Wow.

“Uh, okay. I don’t know what to say about that. So I’ll just say, ‘see you tomorrow’, and head off to my social networking mixer thingy you didn’t tell me about until a few seconds ago.”

I tipped an imaginary hat to him before walking away, shaking my head at the odd enigma that was Marv Jenkins.