Page 76 of Game Plan
"Ah. All the more reason to run it." Ed sounded pleased for some reason.
I glanced back at him questioningly.
"Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned," he misquoted. "I'm sure you have a few more… interesting stories to share with our readers." He looked about ready to lick his lips. "Salacious ones."
Ick.
"I'm not the sort of woman who writes ugly, bitter break up songs," I said firmly.
"Great, I'm not asking for songs." Ed looked pleased with himself at his own joke.
I gave him one of my best eye rolls. The kind I usually reserve for people like Harvey, or the guys who give you a ticket whenyou parked for half a minute too long. I mean, there's doing your job and then there's taking things a bit too seriously. In this case, not seriously enough.
"Although," Ed said before I could respond further, "I'm pretty sure I could make you sing."
"I'm sure you're not implying what I think you're implying," I said coldly. I was just about done with his bullshit. "Because I could sing in court, if you prefer. After you're charged with sexual harassment."
He blinked, then his face slowly turned red.
"Are you threatening me, because there's no place on theNational Dailystaff?—"
"You're right," I interrupted. "There's no place on this staff for me." I tossed an envelope on the table.
"I'll give you the 'Too Long; Didn't Read' version." I stood up. "I quit. TheNational Daily, and you, don't support the perception I have of myself as a journalist. Maybe I'm an idiot for trying to have morals in this job, but I'm not ready to let them go. Some day I might wish I'd given in and wrote about all the ugly things readers seem to want, but not today." Not ever, if I could help it.
"You're right," Ed said. "It's stupid to take the imaginary higher ground when you have bills to pay." He eyed the envelope, but didn't touch it. "I'll give you a minute to reconsider. You're one of the best writers here. You run rings around guys like Harvey. He's great at digging up dirt, but the execution could use some work." That was a hell of an admission, unless he was trying to flatter me into staying. Whatever, it wouldn't work.
"I doubt he or his readers care," I said coolly. "They can't see past the entertainment value and the impact it has on the people he's writing about."
"I guess." Ed shrugged. His hand hovered over the envelope. "Last chance."
I hesitated. He was right about one thing, I did have bills to pay. I had a bit of money in the bank, but not enough to last for long. Maybe I had a bag of rocks in my brain too, because I shook my head.
"I won't change my mind. I'll clear out my desk."
He waved me out the door and picked up the envelope.
I closed the door behind me and tried not to freak the hell out.
What had I done?
I satdown at my table and opened my laptop. I brought up a browser page and clicked on my blog. I hadn't posted anything to it for a couple of months, so of course I couldn't remember the password.
I sent a 'reset request' to my email twice—it didn't show up the first time—clicked the link, changed my password and gave them the access code they sent to my phone.
If anyone wanted to hack my blog so badly they got past all of this, I felt sorry for them. Even my virtually nonexistent life was more exciting than that.
I finally reached 'Becca Writes' and opened a screen for a new post.
I stared at the blank page for a solid ten minutes before I got up and got myself a coffee. Caffeine would help my brain get in gear.
As I sipped, I knew it wasn't my brain that was struggling with this, it was my heart. I was about to pour everythingonto the page. It felt like stabbing myself in the chest with a longsword.
I set my coffee aside, scooted my chair forward and started.
The dayI screwed up my life.
Yeah,that was the heading. It would do for now.
