Chapter Eighteen
Alyson
I straightened the pleats on my skirt. I rehearsed what Blake and I had gone over. This was the right thing to do. I had to remove myself from the situation. I had flashbacks to my ethics class. It heavily focused on slander and defamation, but I hadn’t forgotten the discussion on sources. The last thing I wanted to be as a new reporter was labeled as unethical and biased. I held my breath and counted to eight. Somehow that always seemed to help, but right now all I felt were sweaty palms and a nervous stomach.
“Covington, come on in.” Christine called across the newsroom. Her door was cracked.
I closed it behind me and turned to take a seat.
“Did you have a good weekend?” I asked.
I knew nothing about Christine’s personal life, other than she was married. She wore a simple gold band on her left hand. There wasn’t a picture in the office. Not even a shot of a dog, or a landscape.
“It was a weekend.” Her lips were so thin they almost formed a straight line when she wasn’t smiling. “I got your email. Let’s talk.”
There was too much silence. Too much space in between our words. “Well, thank you for seeing me so quickly this morning. I need to talk to you about something.” I could feel the plan unraveling. Christine stared at me, and my resolve to be a hard-ass negotiator seemed ridiculous.
“It’s Monday. My schedule is filling up. What do you have for me?” She chewed on the bottom of a pen.
I didn’t know how Blake did this every day. How he faced people and walked away with exactly what he wanted. He wasn’t just good at it. He was amazing.
“Last week you mentioned that you thought there was a possibility I could change over to straight features.” I twisted my hands in my lap. I was using weak words. I knew it. “And anyway, I thought we could make that transition start a little sooner.”
Christine looked puzzled. “Sooner? How so?”
“Yes. See I need to remove myself from any stories pertaining to Blake Davenport. And it seems like maybe the timing is right to go ahead over to features.”
“And why do you have to come off the Davenport stories?”
I chewed on the inside of my cheek. “I just do, but I have a story I thought I could give the reporter you assign to the resort.” My words sounded ridiculous. I couldn’t string together one impressive sentence.
“You haven’t answered my question. And if you have a story, why isn’t it already written?”
“Ok. That’s a good question.” We didn’t analyze enough of Christine’s reactions. Blake was used to overcoming negotiation obstacles. I didn’t even know how to barter in a flea market.
“Look, Covington, we all get assignments we don’t particularly like. That’s the news business. This happens to be a business journal. We serve the southern half of Texas. So, we don’t have the luxury of picking and choosing what we report. We have a readership that depends on us. We have an obligation to those readers.”
“I’m sleeping with him.” I blurted it out before she could finish.
I had worked there three months, and in those three months I had seen Christine angry, happy, pleased with a well-written story. This morning I saw what she looked like when she was surprised.
“With-with?”
I could barely look at her. “With Blake Davenport.”
The tiny office erupted with her laughter. “You can’t be serious.”
I nodded. “I am. We started dating after the interview.” I blurred the timeline a bit.
“You realize he’s a complete womanizer. He’s nothing short of the business equivalent to George Clooney.”
“But he got married last year to that amazing attorney.”
She rolled her eyes. “You understand what I’m saying. He’s Clooney-esque. You’re willing to sacrifice your career for a man like that?”
I shook my head. “No. Not sacrifice. That’s why I’m here. I don’t want to cause any problems for the Record. I can’t report on him any longer. I’m telling you it would be unethical. I’m here to be open and transparent about it.”
Christine sighed. “But you were hired as the business beat reporter for South Padre and Port Isabel. I don’t have anywhere else to put you, Alyson.”
Oh, God. It wasn’t a good sign she used my first name. “But you said I could do features.”
“You have to prove yourself first and on top of that I would have to move Cecelia somewhere. She’s on features now. There’s nowhere else for her to go.”
I shook my head. This could not be happening. “But you made it sound like it would be soon. Like there was a position now for me to slide into.”
Christine folded her hands together and laid them on the desk. “I’m sorry if that was how you interpreted it. I didn’t promise you a different job.”
“No, you didn’t,” I admitted.
“I guess this puts us both in a pickle.”
I wondered if there was some way I could untangle myself from the information I had deposited on her desk. If only I hadn’t thought being ethical was so damn important.
“I can report on anything else, Christine. Anything. I’ll switch to advertising or sales. Or maybe I could help out with editing. I used to edit at the Daily for the other reporters.”
Her cheeks filled with air, and then she expelled it into the room. “I’m going to have to think about this.”
“So, I’m not fired?” I asked timidly.
“I’m going to have to consider all of the options and consult with HR. I was going to send you to the Fernandez meeting this morning, but I clearly can’t do that. Shit.” Her pen rolled on the floor.
“Christine, really I’ll cover whatever the Record needs.”
“I hear you. But the Record needed you on the resort. I needed you to write another piece like the one on the mom and daughter. I needed someone who could write about the politics of the resort, but that person is no longer you.” Her eyes softened with disappointment. It was worse than any look my mother had given me. “Now head home for the day. If something non-Davenport related comes up, we’ll call you in, but that man is all over the island.”
I rose to leave, worried I would trip over the tight space before getting out the door.
“Hey, what was the story you had for me?” she asked.
“Oh, nothing. It was an idea on the environmentalists. Not a very good idea anyway.”
I closed the door behind me. It might have been the one thing that stuck from my conversation with Blake. The only thing. He told me not to show all my cards too quickly. I still had one card and only a few hours to figure out how to use it.
***
I stared at my laptop. The screen displayed the words “no search results found”, and I thought I might be sick. There were no reporter positions posted within a sixty-mile radius. I paced around the studio, bouncing from the bed to the bathroom and back again.
I thought of ten things to do, and five minutes later couldn’t think of a single thing to do. Christine was meeting with HR to determine whether I could keep my job. Blake told me he had conference calls all day and wouldn’t be able to see me until late tonight. I couldn’t call him. I wondered if he would be disappointed in how I handled the entire meeting.
If I lost my job I didn’t know what I’d do. I had a bit of savings stashed away, but it wasn’t enough to stay in South Padre indefinitely. With summer winding down, most of the seasonal jobs were drying up. I wouldn’t even be able to get a position waiting tables.
I threw myself back on the bed. I couldn’t leave. I had just found him. I had just discovered how much fun the island could be. I had my first friend here. I groaned.
I was still holding the story hostage, although I didn’t know why. My time had to be running out. The local paper would have someone scouting the City Hall records, and it was only a matter of time before a reporter discovered Blake had purchased the lot and was processing permits for trailer hookups.
I walked back and forth in front of the bed. Blake wanted me to be able to separate my emotions from work. I closed my eyes to see if it was even possible. The problem was with my eyes closed all I could see was him. Ugh. Bad start, Alyson.
If he were dealing with this crisis, what would he do? How would he negotiate his job back?
I flipped the screen open on my laptop and typed in the search engine.