Ace
The day after he asked Phoenix out, Ace went into the office. He wasn’t used to having only one story a month, and needed something to do with his time. Granted, he could have been sorting through his father’s things, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it just yet. Instead, he spent most of his time in his childhood bedroom, only disturbing what was absolutely essential to use.
There were a handful of people in when he entered—mostly editors, with one or two reporters typing up their stories. He walked through the bullpen and over to Bud’s office door. It was closed, but Ace knocked anyway. A moment later, it opened.
Bud’s cracked a grin when he saw Ace. “Hey, how’s it going? Settling in okay?”
“Yeah, definitely,” Ace said with a nod. “Listen, can I come in and have a quick chat with you?”
“Sure, sure!” Bud opened the door wider, beckoning him in.
Ace walked over to one of the worn chairs and took a seat. It was more comfortable than it looked. A few seconds later, Bud joined him, taking a seat in the remaining chair.
“So what is it you want to talk about?”
Letting out a slow breath, Ace clasped his hands together. “I was just wondering if there was anything else I can do around here. One article a month won’t exactly cover my living expenses.”
He hated doing this—groveling for work like a beggar, especially when he had a masters degree in journalism and a mildly impressive resume. But it was only temporary. He had to keep telling himself that.
Bud blinked owlishly. “The salary I sent you was for the magazine. I guess I thought Makenna would give you more than she’s given you. Maybe she wants to ease you into it.”
Maybe, but Ace wasn’t holding out much hope. Even if he didn’t want to be here, he still had to get by somehow, and this was what he was trained to do.
“Is there any way you could set up a meeting with us?”
Bud chuckled. “Set up a meeting? Yeah, sure.”
He stood up and walked over to the door, opening it. Sticking his head out, he shouted, “Hey Kenna, can you come here for a minute?” Then he turned around, leaving the door open, and resumed his seat.
“How’s that for setting up a meeting?”
Well, that was a nice perk, Ace had to admit. Usually when he tried to set up meetings at the Register, it had taken days, sometimes weeks. To actually get a meeting the same day—the same minute, really—was unheard of.
Makenna stepped through the doorway and closed the door behind her, crossing her arms. “Is everything okay?”
Ace nodded quickly. The last thing he wanted to do was annoy her and ruin his chances of another story. “Yeah, it’s fine. I was just wondering… I’m really loving the piece I’m doing so far, but do you have anything else you need done? Even if it isn’t reporting, I’m a decent photographer, and I’m familiar with AP Style.”
She pursed her lips, her hands going to her hips. “Let me see what I can do. The Harvest Festival is coming up soon. We might need a reporter or a photographer to check it out.”
That wouldn’t be so bad. The Harvest Festival was a tradition Ace had enjoyed growing up. Tents of food for what seemed like miles. What could be better?
“Yeah, I’ll take it,” he said. “And anything else you want to throw my way. I could really use the work.”
“As long as you can do a good job on your feature,” Bud said firmly.
That was unexpected. Ace figured Makenna would be the one lecturing him about writing a quality story, since she was the editor of the magazine.
“Of course I will,” he said, frowning slightly. It was a little insulting, the insinuation he would do a half-ass job just to get more work.
Bud nodded. “Good. I don’t want this article making him look bad.”
Ace’s frown only deepened. “I don’t intend for that to happen. He’s articulate, passionate, and incredibly talented, and I think it’s going to show through his interview.”
That seemed to appease Bud. His shoulders relaxed, and he looked a little less threatening, though Ace was sure he could take him now. Ten years ago, definitely not. But he’d grown since then.
“Good. I just don’t want him hurt, is all.”
“How do you know Phoenix?” Ace hadn’t realized there was a connection, but it seemed there was. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have been so adamant that Ace do a good job.
“You remember Leyland Wheeler, over at the high school? The art teacher?”
“Vaguely. We actually had art together, me and Phoenix.”
Bud grunted to show he had heard, then continued. “Leyland and I are good friends. He used to talk about how promising Phoenix was. And then when he made it big… god, you should have seen how proud Leyland was. I know he’s had some trouble with kids picking on him. Well… they’re not kids now. But all the same, they should know better than to make fun of someone just ‘cause he’s different.”
Ace’s chest ached at the thought that Phoenix had been hurt. He was such a sweet person. That strange, intense urge to protect him was back in full force, only this time, it didn’t seem so strange. He liked Phoenix. Hell, he liked him so much he’d asked him out. It was only natural he would want to care for him.
“Trust me, Bud, I wouldn’t do a thing to hurt him. I think too much of him to do that.”
Bud stared at him for a long moment before nodding and reaching out to shake Ace’s hand. “You always were a good kid. I trust you’ll treat him right.”
“I—yeah, sure. Of course I’m going to treat him right. He’s a nice guy, and besides, I’m interviewing him. It doesn’t make sense to hurt him.”
“Good. Just as long as you know. He’s got friends in this town, even if he doesn’t see it.”
Doubtless, that was supposed to have some kind of impact. Make him scared, or encourage him to back off, or something. But he wanted to go on a date with Phoenix. He wanted to get to know him better. And he wasn’t going to let Bud McGee, Leyland Wheeler, or anyone else stop him.
He stood and shook Bud’s hand, then turned to Makenna, who had been watching the exchanged with interest.
“Get back to me about the Harvest Festival story, would you?”
She nodded, and Ace took it as his cue to leave. His thoughts raced as he pushed the door open and stepped outside onto the sidewalk. He had been born here—lived all his life, until the past few years. Had he really been gone so long that they considered him an outsider?
It didn’t matter. One way or another, he would show that he was still the same Ace they’d watched grow up. And then once he did, he would find somewhere new and leave only good memories behind.
***
The answering machine was blinking when Ace got back home, signaling a new message. He frowned. He hadn’t been expecting any calls. He walked over to the machine and pressed play, then sat back on his heels and crossed his arms.
I’m calling for Arin Sherridan. My name is Catherine Post, and I’m the managing editor for the New York Chronicle. We received your application for our associate section editor position and are pleased to inform you that your qualifications and experience match what we’re looking for in a candidate. I’d like to set up an interview as soon as possible. If you would give me a call at 212-578-9837 at your earliest convenience, we can set something up. Thanks, have a great day!
Well his day was certainly greater after that message. The New York Chronicle was one of his top picks for a place to work. Phoenix might not have loved New York, but Ace had. There were so many people there, so much culture, endless things to do. He would never have to worry about being lonely, like he had in Boston, because he would constantly be going—for work or for pleasure.
Without hesitation, he grabbed the phone and dialed Catherine’s number. She answered on the third ring.
“Hello this is Catherine.”
Ace smiled as he spoke, an old trick he had learned doing phone interviews. “Hi Catherine, this is Arin Sherridan. You called regarding my application with The New York Chronicle.”
“Oh yes, hi! I’m glad you got my message. I have to say, we were very impressed with your resume and cover letter.”
“Thank you, that’s very nice.” Ace’s heart beat quickly, and he felt as though it was in his chest.
“It’s not nice, it’s the truth. We think you would make a great asset to the team. What’s your earliest availability for an interview?”
Ace wanted to tell her tomorrow, but he wanted to have time to prepare properly for the interview.
“I’m pretty free next week, if you’re available any time then. What does your Tuesday look like?”
Weekday trains were cheaper than weekend ones, so he would be able to save a little bit of money, there.
“Tuesday sounds perfect. Should we say Tuesday at two-thirty?”
“Tuesday at two-thirty works great for me.”
“I’ll put it on the calendar. We look forward to meeting you, Arin.”
It was strange, hearing his real name, and it had been even stranger saying it. His colleagues at the Register had learned quickly enough, though, and he was fairly sure the staff of the Chronicle would be the same.
He still couldn’t quite believe he’d gotten a call. When he’d sent in his application, he was fairly sure it was a long shot. Even though he had the experience, he knew well enough that location was always a factor. It was always easier to hire someone slightly less qualified if they were in the same city. But apparently he had what they were looking for. As long as he was able to impress them in the interview.