Charlotte
The alarm clock screams for me to get out of bed and do something. The red lights illuminate the time, mocking me. How many damn times did I click snooze?
“I’m going to be late.” I rush around the room, throwing on the first pair of jeans I find. “Shit.” In a panic, I grab my purse off the floor and slip on a pair of flats. My toe collides with the wooden leg of the couch as I gather my scattered books. “Fuck,” I shout, bouncing on one foot. The pages of my notebooks crinkle on their way into my bag.
“You okay out there?” Rachel pops her head out from around the corner.
“I’m late. Like really late, and I’m already in hot water with my internship. I just don’t have time for this. My head is all over the place,” I ramble, scattering to collect the rest of my supplies.
“Want me to write you a note explaining why you’re late?” Rachel smirks before disappearing back into the kitchen. The sound of eggs being beaten and vegetables being chopped ring through the apartment. She never cooks. I don’t have time to investigate what she’s up to when my own shit is in disarray.
“I’ll catch you later tonight, okay?” I holler, spotting a heather grey hoodie on the back of the couch. Its familiarity piques my interest, but I don’t have time to waste. I slam the front door behind me without asking any questions.
When I pull into traffic, I take a deep breath for the first time this morning. This is not how I like to start my day. The drive through campus is quick and quiet for a Monday. Most days the sidewalks are packed with students bustling from class to class, grabbing coffee, and hanging out in the many courtyards. Our campus is like a small community. It’s one of the many reasons why I chose Greystone.
“How’s Jacob doing?” a guy asks as we pass each other on the steps leading to the building. I know his smile but can’t put a finger on from where.
I squeeze my eyes shut, not prepared to rehash every detail of his recovery. “No real change. Thank you for asking though.” I send a prayer up, a selfish one, that the guy will be gone, but when I blink, there he stands, his crooked grin wider than before.
“I’m Greg, by the way. I don’t know if you remember me, but I’m the Sigma Nu President. I came up after the accident.” He offers his hand and I reluctantly take it.
“I’m already late, Greg. I’m so sorry.” I glance back at the door.
“Oh, don’t let me keep you. Give Jacob’s family our best.” He nods and skips down the steps.
The office is quiet. The only sound is the copy machine, which is currently working overtime. I toss my purse onto my desk and slump down in the chair. My cubicle is tucked in the back corner, and I half hope I’ve snuck in without being seen.
“Why are you late, Charlotte?” Mr. Johnson hollers from the entry to his office.
So much for flying under the radar.
“I know I’m late. Everything’s just been really hectic, sir,” I explain, standing to face his open door. He holds up his hand and pulls his cell phone from his pocket, bringing it to his ear, dismissing me and my excuses.
“Well shit,” I whisper, falling back into my chair.
Quinn, Mr. Johnson’s secretary, waltzes by my desk.
“Everything okay, sweetie?” She skids on her heels, stopping in front of me.
“I’m a complete disappointment. I swear, I can’t do anything right these days.” I slam the drawer on my desk and slump into the chair. My hands run through my greasy, unwashed hair. On top of everything else, I didn’t get to shower, which is the one thing that makes me feel human, even after a night of drinking.
“You have a lot going on, Charlotte. We all understand.” Her hand rests gently on my shoulder, and I find comfort in her motherly personality. She treats everyone as if they’re family. Mr. Johnson doesn’t appreciate her tender manner most days, but even he warms up under her watch.
“If I’m going to succeed in this career, I need to thrive under stress, not let it consume me.” The piles of papers on my desk cause a slight skip in my heartbeat.
“One day you’ll be an amazing journalist, and do you want to know why?” Quinn smiles. “Because you have heart. Maybe too big of a heart, but that’s where the stories are. They’re hidden. Beneath all the materialistic, shiny crap sits the truth, and you know how to dig to get it. Keep your chin up. He’s a softy, deep down in his black heart.” She nods towards Mr. Johnson’s office and laughs.
I offer something short of a smile. Quinn takes it for what it is, disappearing into the break room to pour the fourth cup of coffee for our boss.
The first half of my morning is sucked away with returning phone calls, emails, and random Monday morning office necessities. In my experience, if this doesn’t get done, then the rest of the week is complete chaos, much like my desk.
At the Greystone Gazette, our paper is released bi-weekly to ensure our stories are fresh and exciting. We have guest reporters. Athletes. Famous alumni. What never fails is our readers willingness to pick up our paper as they walk through campus. We do our best to keep an edge to our story choices.
Being a journalist has always been my dream. When I was a young girl, I’d lay on my stomach with my pad of paper and write my own ramblings while my mother enjoyed the latest news. My curiosity got the best of me, and after a million questions, I came to a conclusion. I’d grow up to be a journalist. I never wanted to write about frivolous things, but wanted to be in the trenches, digging up stories readers would devour.
I came to the university and immediately sought out Mr. Johnson who took me under his wing and made sure I was signed up for all the right classes. Before he became a college professor, and then the supervisor of our campus newspaper, he was a war journalist. To say he’s seen things is an understatement. He can be a jackass, but he’s a jackass who can teach me the ins and outs of the field.
“Charlotte!” Mr. Johnson’s sharp tone causes my spine to tighten.
I twirl in my chair and lock eyes with my boss. “Yes?”
“Can you come in here for a minute?” He shuffles back into his office. His desk looks much like mine, with scattered papers and no real sense of organization. I sit in one of the two chairs in front. Several minutes pass, and I pick at my cuticles and wait until he’s done typing out a lengthy e-mail.
“Mr. Johnson,” I whisper to remind him I’m still in the office.
His head springs up, surprise flashing across his face. “Sorry, Charlotte.” He shakes his head, flustered with whatever he’s working on. “You know the owner of Murphy’s?”
“Personally, no, but...” I shift to the edge of the chair.
“We’re showcasing him in the second installment of next month’s paper,” Mr. Johnson cuts me off. “Well, him and another alumnus. Both business owners. Both cut throat. I think it’ll be interesting to get a take on how they got where they are now.”
“And you want me to go with Josh when he interviews them?” My breath hitches as I survey him, curious as to what his angle is. Will this be my chance to prove myself? I hope so. I could use good news.
“Actually, I’m thinking you would do better with this interview. Give you some practice.” Mr. Johnson hands me a rough draft of questions. “Feel free to make the interviews your own. You’re ready, Charlotte. I’ve read some of the sample articles you’ve left on my desk. They’re good.”
“Wow!” My grin is so big my cheeks hurt. “I won’t disappoint you.” I stand to leave but turn back before stepping out of the room. “Who’s the other alumnus? You said there were two.”
“Oh, sorry.” Mr. Johnson glances up from the pile of papers on his desk. “It’s Ari St. James.”
“St. James, as in the car dealer?” My fingers tingle I’m so thrilled with the chance he’s giving me. Ari St. James has a quite the reputation in our town. He dominates the market and has made a name for himself. He doesn’t do many public interviews. The chance to pick his brain is a big deal.
“That’s the one. You should be able to spin an interesting piece off him.” He smiles and dismisses me.
I rush to my desk, eager to start. Even with all the distractions, Mr. Johnson is willing to give me my first chance. There’s the soft spot Quinn always talks about, and his heart couldn’t have warmed at a better time. This is what I’m in desperate need of. Work is always a good distraction.
“You okay, Charlotte?” Quinn asks, balancing two cups of coffee. She sets one down in front of me, and I take a sip. My taste buds do a happy dance. This is what my morning has been missing.
“Yeah, actually.” I glance up at her, and she winks at me. “You already know, don’t you? About him allowing me to interview?”
“Well, I sure as shit wasn’t going to spoil this moment for you.” She rubs my shoulder. “You deserve it, sweetheart.”
“Thank you.”
Quinn leaves me to it and I scan the paper.
Across the room, Josh huffs. Our senior reporter for the newspaper is a real know it all. Every time he assigns me something, he steps in to show me how I’m doing it wrong, and then takes over before I even leave my desk. Let’s be real, the guy’s an asshole. Part of me wants to ignore his disdain, but the temptation to rub it in his face is strong. I catch his attention, waving the questions in the air. Take that, asshole. I’ve earned this chance and your shitty glare isn’t going to make me feel bad. There’s a deep-rooted sense of satisfaction in a win like this.
My morning flies by as I narrow down Mr. Johnson’s original list. Brainstorming and research help me come up with several new ones of my own. A loud growl rumbles in my stomach, and I’m surprised to see it’s lunch time. I toss my purse strap over my shoulder and snatch the questions, shoving them into my bag.
“Quinn, tell Mr. Johnson if he needs me to call my cell. I have to run out for a bit,” I yell to her on my way out the door.
*****
With the exception of a motorcycle tucked under the large tree, Murphy’s parking lot is empty. This isn’t entirely unusual for a Monday afternoon. They don’t open until one most days. I push open the old door, surprised no one stops me when I walk through.
The bar itself is empty. I’m startled by a loud clatter of metal on concrete, almost like someone dropped a hundred knives. Curses are thrown around with ease, and I giggle from the person’s colorful choice of words.
“Hello?” I yell over the noise.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake. I’ll be right out.” The voice comes from the direction of the swinging door, so I follow the sound until I come face to face with a man. A cigarette hangs from the side of his mouth. He’s god-awful tall with long, blond hair, pulled back into a pristine bun. I touch my mess of hair on top of my head. Is it sad I’m jealous of this man’s hair? This is officially an all-time low.
“I said I’d be right out, doll face.” He crushes the cherry end and flicks the butt into the garbage can in the corner. “What can’t wait a few seconds?”
“I’m Charlotte.” I reach out, offering my hand.
His brown eyes scan my body, staying put on my chest. I fidget under his scrutiny. The space grows smaller and smaller as he paces towards me. He shakes my hand and leans his hip against the metal table in the middle of the room.
“I’m Derks, and no offense, but why are you in my bar, Charlotte?” He glances at the clock on the wall above my head. “We aren’t open yet.”
“I’m from the Greystone Gazette. I’m here to talk to you about your interview.” Oh gosh, maybe he’s changed his mind.
“Oh, right. I expected you to show up sooner or later.” He sidesteps to the industrial shelves lining the walls, kicking a box to the side. “Do you want to do this now?”
The cramped storage room isn’t exactly ideal for me, but it’s his environment, so this could work in my favor. He’ll be comfortable. Comfort is key when interviewing someone. People tend to hold back when they feel uneasy.
“This is fine. You can finish what I interrupted while we talk.” I will take what I can get if it means pulling off the perfect interview. I sit down on a stool, open my notebook, and grab my micro recorder, pressing the ON button. “Do you mind if I tape this?”
“If it makes your job easier, why the fuck not?” The top half of his body disappears between boxes. His elbow hits one, and rolls of paper towels scatter across the floor.
“Let’s start out by talking about your experience at Greystone University.”
“Oh honey, you can do better than that,” Derks says.
He’s right, I can do better. So much for my plan to ease into this interview. The way Derks presents himself tells me he can take anything I send his way.
“Okay, fair enough.” I laugh at his teasing. “Can you explain your arrest in 2005?”
Derks’ head bangs on the metal shelf, and he shoots to his feet. His smile widens with surprise and a hint of pride. “You’ve done your research.”
“I’m a reporter.” Damn right, I’ve done my research. One thing I’ve learned is never show up to a gun fight with a knife. Always come fully equipped to knock someone off their feet.
“For a college newspaper.” He folds his arms over his chest and raises a brow, challenging me and my prowess as a journalist.
One thing no one will test me on is my ability to dig out a story. I’m not the kind of girl to back down, at least when it comes to being a reporter. If I could only bring this tough ass, no-holds-barred attitude into the rest of my world.
“And in a few years, I’ll graduate, and I won’t be some wimpy, little girl reporter on her college newspaper, but someone who’ll occupy a top spot at one of the biggest newspapers in the nation.” I tap my pen on the notebook, my patience growing thin. “So, you going to tell me about the arrest or not?”
“I like you, Charlotte.” He wags a finger at me.
“What are you doing here?” Hands gripping the top frame, Duke fills the opening. His strong, domineering stature takes up the remainder of the space in the room. His gaze shifts from me to Derks, who comes up behind me. His presence warms my back like a blanket on a winter’s night. Tension fills the room, but I may be the only one to feel it.
As Duke’s stare intensifies, my clothes suddenly feel too tight and itchy. Derks’ closeness has me unconsciously stepping towards Duke, and my breaths quicken when he snorts under his breath.
“Trying to find the damn karaoke machine,” Derks grunts, returning to his search.
“Karaoke machine? For what?” Duke questions, his tone sarcastic. Who doesn’t like karaoke? “And I’m asking Charlotte, not you.”
“Yes, I’m trying something new.” Derks studies the two of us.
“Who gave you this idea? Was it Lyd?” Duke rolls his eyes, annoyed with his boss.
“I love karaoke,” I chime in, looking over my shoulder to Derks, who smiles appreciatively. When I turn back around, Duke’s face is red.
“What are you doing here?” Duke drops his hands from the doorframe and steps closer to me, edging me against the table.
“She’s here to interview yours truly. Agreed to shadow me here at the bar one night this week.” Derks winks behind Duke’s back.
“What?” Duke laughs. “Shadow, you doing what, exactly? Sitting in the corner booth checking out the incoming freshman?” So, Derks is clearly a lady’s man. This comes as no surprise. He’s hot and a tad bit cocky. His rough, razor like edges must have the girls falling at his feet.
“It would give me some insight into the man, the myth, the legend.” I push the button to stop the recorder and jump from the stool.
“Don’t stroke this guy’s ego.” Aggravation fills Duke’s voice. Who is it aimed at, though?
“You can stroke anything of mine you’d like, sweetheart,” Derks skims his bottom lip with the tip of his tongue. His smile is playful, proving what I already know. Although he’s harmless, he’s the kind of man who could sell ice to an Eskimo. “Got it.” He yanks a vintage machine from the back of the shelf and drops it on the table. “Want to give it a go?” The mic twirls in his hand, enticing me to take him up on the offer.
“I would, but I have stuff to do for school.” I stuff my things into my purse.
Duke does a double take between me and Derks. His jaw falls slack as he takes us both in. Why does our easy banter surprise him?
“Maybe just one song.” Derks winks at Duke. He doesn’t try to disguise his gesture. Unapologetic is another way to describe a guy like Derks.
“I’ll make you a deal. When Duke sings karaoke in front of a bar full of people, I’ll give you a song.” I laugh, knowing full well Duke is too uptight for fun and games.
“Well, shit, sweetheart. That means I’ll never hear that beautiful voice of yours.” Derks shakes his head. “For him to sing karaoke, he’d have to remove that ‘no having fun’ stick from his ass.” With the karaoke machine tucked under his arm, he slaps Duke on the shoulder as he passes by us.
“How do you know I can even sing?”
The wild smirk on his face is contagious, and my lips stretch into a full smile. “A girl like you? Something tells me there isn’t anything you can’t do.” He throws a wave over his shoulder, leaving Duke and me alone.
The space in the backroom feels far smaller with it being just the two of us. Duke doesn’t say anything, scuffing his heel on the tiled floor. An embarrassing rumble from my stomach breaks the deafening silence.
“I was going to ask if you’re hungry, but I’ll take that as a yes.” He glances at my stomach and chuckles.
Duke leads me into the small kitchen, and I lift myself to sit on the metal island. He rummages through the fridge and drawers, gathering bread, meat, and condiments. The muscles in his back flex through his tight grey t-shirt. My heart pounds at the show he’s giving. He turns, and his eyes widen.
“What?” I cover my heart with my hand and glance behind me for any sign of danger.
“You do realize we prepare food on that, right?” He drops the food beside me.
“Oh my god!” I wasn’t even thinking.
A deep, amused laugh escapes his lips, and his hand touches my knee. If he meant to relax me, I hate to tell him, but his touch has the opposite effect. My body stills, and my heart races. The tingling in my stomach fades when he moves his hand. Well, I hadn’t expected that.
“You’re interviewing Derks?” he asks, lightening the mood between us. His expression doesn’t slip, but his green eyes soften. “What’s so interesting about him?” He focuses on the plates in front of him.
“We’re actually doing a series of interviews showcasing business owners who graduated from Greystone, and still reside in the area. After Derks, I have to interview Ari St. James.”
Duke chokes on a slice of pickle. I pound on his back until he waves me off. He fills a glass of water and takes several sips.
“Do you know him?” I tear off a piece of turkey and fold it into a ball, devouring it in one bite.
“He’s a brother at my fraternity.” He places a plate of food on my lap. “Well, not anymore, but once a brother, always a brother kind of bullshit.”
“He knows Jacob, then?” Lettuce falls on my lap when I take a large bite. I pick it up and toss it in my mouth. Duke’s eyes widen. “Never seen a girl eat a sandwich before?” I release a nervous laugh. “Why are you looking at me like I’m strange or something?”
“You’re refreshing, Charlotte Novak.” He suddenly stills, his focus on the sandwich in his hand.
Duke’s lips close around the bread, and he bites down. Even the way he eats a sandwich is captivating.
If he eats a sandwich like that, I wonder... Don’t go there, Charlotte.
“Thank you for the lunch.” I place the empty plate behind me once I’ve finished. “So, Duke, you and Jacob are unlikely allies...” My observation is not unfounded, and by the way his eyes wrinkle in the corner, he knows what I say is true.
“We rushed together,” Duke deadpans, moving to clean up the mess.
“What I mean is he’s more straight-laced.”
“Wow!” Duke laughs as he tosses the garbage into the waste basket. “Quick to jump to conclusions, are we?”
“I didn’t mean it as an insult. The opposite in fact.” I place a steady hand on his forearm.
“I’ll take that as a compliment.” He doesn’t move, and curiosity gets the best of me.
With Duke, anything seems possible. He’s the type of guy a mother warns her daughter not to be alone with. My conscious screams for me to step away from the trouble. My hand slides down his arm until my touch graces the ring on his middle finger.
I still under his stare, letting myself slip away from him. My skin immediately misses the thrill from the smallest of touches. His green eyes remain on me.
“I have something of yours.” He races from the room. When he comes back, my black notebook is in his hand. I tear it from his grip.
“Where did you find this? I’ve been looking all over for it.” Blood rushes to my head. Anger and embarrassment are a lethal combination.
“I visited Jacob last night, and it was tucked under the newspapers.”
“Did you read it?” Panic spreads through my body, threatening to swallow me whole.
“I did.” He shrugs, not an ounce of apology in the gesture. “Do you do it a lot, write down random thoughts?”
“Sometimes.” My breath quickens and my cheeks warm, forcing me to look away. Why’d he have to read it? He could’ve ignored it and left it in the room.
“Don’t be embarrassed.” His soulful voice entices me. Our stare locks in on each other. “You have a little” —Duke steps into me— “something, right here.” He tugs the ends of my hair and holds up his finger. Mustard.
I gasp as the end of his finger slips past his lips. His tongue licks the pad, removing every trace of yellow. My insides squeeze tight, and my breath grows shallow. A feeling I should not be having, but dammit, excitement is right there making its presence known. I shake my head from side to side, attempting to erase the reaction from my mind.
“You’re breathing heavy, Charlotte.” His eyes are on my chest. “You okay?”
A tiny version inside my own head screams, “No, I’m not okay. Quit looking at me like that.” This is the perfect time to let her speak. Instead, I tell her to shut up. There’s no denying I enjoy the way Duke is looking at me. Being graced with Duke’s attention forces my body to take notice.
He’s too close for me to think straight. I may as well lay down on the island and ask him to take me right here. I poke my fingertips on his chest, and he takes the hint, stepping back to give me the space I need.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for that...” I gesture between the two of us. “Whatever that was, I didn’t mean for it to happen.”
“It’s human nature. You shouldn’t feel guilty for finding someone else attractive.” Duke leans his hip against the island, looking every bit gorgeous with his sly smile. Is this asshole laughing at me? At least he attempts to hide it behind the back of his hand.
“It’s not funny.” I shove his shoulder. He falls back but recovers quick.
“It’s hilarious.” He grins, and I can’t help but mirror his expression. “I get it. You and Jacob are an item, but it doesn’t matter where you get your appetite as long as you eat at home, Charlotte.”
At the mention of Jacob, my insides churn, and the sandwich I devoured threatens to revisit me. Duke isn’t the first guy I’ve found attractive outside of Jacob, but he is the first person I’ve ever envisioned ripping his clothes off.
He shifts his back, and the muscles flex and retract. A guttural grunt escapes under his breath.
I jump from the table and shift to stand in front of Duke. “Do you have something you’d like to say?”
He rubs the back of his neck two times before flashing his green eyes down at me. His lips open and close, but no words come out.
“I get it.” I laugh, shaking my head. “You think I’m being ridiculous, and what just happened was nothing.”
“Again, Charlotte, you didn’t break any law, and it’s none of my business.” Duke cracks his knuckles and finishes cleaning up the mess.
“I better go.” I snatch my purse off the island. “Can we pretend like this never happened?”
Duke waves over his shoulder, dismissing me. “Whatever helps you sleep at night.”
What the actual hell just happened? I need a shower, and it isn’t because I missed mine this morning.