Page 102 of The Outpost (Jamison Valley 4)
“Of course. I’ll hang back and let you two talk. Afterward, we can get some dinner and celebrate the end of this fucking press tour.”
“Sounds good to me. Maybe we can just order in and relax.” After a glass of wine or two, I’d probably be walking like a zombie the three blocks to my apartment building.
Bryce joined us on the sidewalk and I quickly did the introductions before we all walked across the block to the wine bar, our heels clicking on the sidewalk as Henry followed closely behind.
“Congratulations again on your award,” Bryce said after we’d settled into our seats at a cocktail table and each ordered the happy-hour red. Henry had taken a post closer to the door to give us some privacy.
“Thank you. Honestly? I’m still in shock that I won.” Now that there weren’t cameras pointed at us, talking with Bryce was much more appealing.
“Why’s that? Your story was amazing.”
“Off the record?”
She nodded. “Of course. This is just drinks with a friend.”
“Thank you.” I smiled. “I’m shocked because some would say I crossed an ethical line by getting personally involved with Anton Federov. But I did what I had to do to shut them down and I was glad the Pulitzer committee saw that too.”
My commitment to the investigation and protecting my source was probably what had drawn the committee toward me in the first place.
“I think what you did took guts.” Bryce flicked her wrist toward Henry. “You were able to shut down an international arms dealer when the local police and FBI couldn’t. I’m glad the awards committee selected you, because you deserve it. And personally, I don’t think what you did was immoral or unethical. I think it was courageous.”
Beau had said basically the same thing. Did he know I’d won an award? If so, I liked to think he’d be proud.
“I appreciate that.” I smiled as our waiter delivered our wine. “Anyway, since we’ve spent all afternoon talking about me, tell me about yourself. Are you from Seattle?”
She took a sip, then shook her head. “No, I grew up in Montana, then moved here after college to get a job with a TV station.”
“Montana?” My spine straightened. “Where at?”
“Bozeman. Have you been?”
I shook my head. “Just once but it was dark so I didn’t see much other than the airport.”
“It’s an awesome town and I miss it. Between you and me, I’ve been considering moving back.”
“Is there a TV station there you could work for?”
She shrugged. “Probably, but if I went back, I’d give up TV. After I moved out here, my parents relocated to a smaller town called Clifton Forge. My dad runs the newspaper and has been begging me to come home and take it over so he can retire. TV is wearing me out and the paper business is tempting. I’m tired of producers telling me what to wear, how to cut my hair and that I need to go on a diet.”
I laughed. “I thought about going the TV route for about five minutes in college. It’s got the glamour but I shadowed a woman at Channel 4 and hated the hours.”
“Tell me about it. It’s taken me ten years to get out of morning TV. I can finally stay up later than seven o’clock at night and sleep past three o’clock in the morning.”
I laughed again and took a drink of my wine. This was nice. She was nice. The FBI agents that had been guarding me were great but they all were men. It was refreshing to have some girl time.
“So why were you in Montana?” Bryce asked.
My good mood fell a bit and my eyes dropped to my glass. “It’s a long story.”
Even though it had only been seven months since I’d left, it felt like years had gone by. Winter had passed and spring was turning into summer. A year ago, I was alone at the outpost. Now, I was back to my fancy life in the bustling city, constantly with other people, and had never been so lonely.
“I’d love to hear that story if you’ve got time,” Bryce said.
Her pretty brown eyes were so kind and inviting that I found myself spilling the entire story of my time in Montana.
It was cathartic. It was the first time I’d shared my whole experience and talked about all that had happened with Beau. Not even Felicity knew the whole story. I’d shared bits and pieces with her during our regular phone calls but we were both so excited about her baby’s upcoming arrival that our calls tended to be dominated by nursery décor discussions and rants about gender-neutral greens.
Bryce listened intently, and talking to her was just what I’d needed. Keeping everything bottled inside and constantly wearing a stoic face was part of why I was so tired. One hour talking with her had given me more energy than a full night’s sleep.
