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“Uh... I don’t know if this is still a date... I mean, would you like to go to your place afterwards... or mine... I mean, we don’t have to... um, I don’t even know if you... I should probably just start the article... but if you want to...”
“Maybe next time,” says Yasira and smiles. “All good things come in threes.”
The next morning, it’s a Saturday, Yasira sleeps unusually long for her standards. The events are draining her energy. It is already past eight o’clock when she opens her eyes. Still in bed, she checks the news sites and finds countless articles about the video, the investigation, the reactions, Bear. But nothing really new. No article from Steven.
While she eats her cereal, she gets a picture from Zara.
She went to the hairdresser with her grandpa this morning and got a sidecut. Short on the right, long on the left. It looks pretty daring. Yasira pins a heart to the picture. Then she wonders if Zara only had her hair cut so that she looks different from the damn photo in the Telegram groups. So that she’s not so easily recognizable. Maybe Yasira should also go and get a haircut. She could also get a sidecut. Mother and daughter in the same look. Or would that becringe?
Just before nine, she receives a message from Steven. It consists of just one word: “Sorry!”
What does that mean? Couldn’t he get his article through? The next message follows straight away. “My boss wanted it that way. Couldn’t do anything.”
Was it too vague for his editor-in-chief? She searches for his article. It’s not hard to find. It’s the lead story and titled “EVERYTHING FAKE?” Yasira reads. Afterwards, she wishes the article had never appeared. “According to a source at the BKA...” it says. She gets angry. This means trouble.
She writes Steven a text message consisting of just one word: “Asshole!” But then she deletes the letters again and doesn’t write anything.
Already it starts, the press department calls and wants to know how to handle all the inquiries. A bunch of emails are forwarded to her. When her phone rings again, it’s a journalist fromBild. “How did you come to that conclusion?” he asks. That Yasira is the source is something the press quickly put together. “Do you have any proof?” And who knows where the journalist got her cell phone number. Certainly not from Steven, why would the asshole share his scoop? “We would like an exclusive interview with you and are offering...”
Yasira hangs up. Her cell phone rings again immediately. “Only if you talk to us can we present your side of the story. If you don’t talk to us, then...”
Yasira hangs up again and mutes her cell phone.
Since she will have to deal with the shitty situation anyway, she decides that she might as well do it in the office. Zara isn’t there, so she takes the Golf again. When Yasira arrives at her office, Michael, who has taken over the Saturday shift, shakes his head sighing. “What were you thinking?”
“That wasn’t the plan...”
“The boss wants to see you right away.”
“Am I fired?”
“Don’t know,” says Michael. “Couldn’t really understand him because he was screaming so hard.”
#FAME
Yasira takes her time on her way to the boss, hoping that the choleric’s anger will fade by the minute, but there’s only limited time to waste on a short journey without coming to a complete standstill. When she arrives at Gebhardt’s office, he’s still in a screaming mood.
Yasira even gets why. If one of her team had spoken to the press behind her back, she would have completely lost it too.
“I like my weekends,” Gebhardt opens as a greeting. “Don’t you?”
“Sure, I do,” sighs Yasira.
“And yet, here we are, spending the second weekend in a row in the office. What do you think might be the reason for that?”
Yasira tries to say something, but the chief doesn’t really seem interested in her answer.
“How dare you,” he shouts, “leak confidential information to the press against my direct orders?”
Yasira doesn’t know what to say to that. Sorry? But she’s not sorry at all. So she chooses not to say anything and lets him continue shouting at her: “The only reason you still have this case, the only reason I’m not making sure you’re suspended on the spot...”
The boss pauses. Yasira is actually curious.
“... is that it would cast a bad light on the BKA,” Gebhardt continues, quieter but still noticeably aggressive. “So we’re not going to deny it, because otherwise we’d prove to the world that we’re a chaotic mess where insubordination is out of control.”
Yasira stands in front of him, just nodding. The chief has not offered her a seat and is unlikely to do so any time soon.
“So we’re playing your game.”
