Page 94 of Cuts like a Knife
“No. If they sue us, you’ve made it really easy for them. That’s the issue.”
“You think they’re going to sue us?” I asked, terrified. “Oh my god, what am I going to do?”
“Lex, calm down. Papers get sued all the time. All the time. You’ll be fine. We have lawyers. Flash will stand behind you and will take care of it. That’s what always happens.”
“Really?” I said in a small voice, my heartbeat beginning to slow.
“Really. This is seriously no big deal These things happen all the time. Just go talk to Kelsang about it now. You guys are friends anyway. You’ll see. It’ll be okay.”
“Okay,” I said, looking across the newsroom toward Kelsang’s glass-walled office. I could see him inside, tossing a toy basketball against the wall.
“Let’s get a drink after work,” Adele says, kindly. “Just us. I’ll tell you all the stories about reporters I know who’ve been sued. They’re all fine.”
“Thanks, Adele,” I say. “I really needed somebody to get me off this ledge. I’ll go see Kelsang now.”
I remember I grabbed my laptop and hurried over and immediately started to explain the whole thing. Exactly as I’d explained it to Adele. I showed him the email from Alan Segal as well as my reply. And I showed him the published versions of both stories. I was about to explain about the bylines, when Rian stormed in. Didn’t even knock. He was waving a printed sheet of paper in one hand.
He barely looked at me.
“We’ve got a serious problem with Alan Segal at Sentinel,” he said to Kelsang who nodded.
“We’re just talking about it,” Kelsang admitted.
“Get her the f— out of here,” Rian said.
I remembered that Kelsang smiled at me. Maybe not quite as warmly as usual, but apologetically. I trusted him. I had been so honest. I thought everything would be fine.
“Lex, why don’t you go wait in the conference room? Leave this,” he said, indicating my laptop. “Someone will come in to talk to you soon. Don’t worry.”
“Okay,” I said, and scuttled out.
I sat in the conference room for three hours. No one spoke to me. No one came to the door. As coworkers passed by the glass-fronted room, I saw a lot of curious faces, but no smiles. No greetings.
I waited.
By the time someone came, it was the middle of the afternoon, I was starving and needed to pee, but I was barely conscious of my body. The churning panic in my gut blocked almost almost all other sensation.
Kelsang, Rian, and Owen298 trooped into the conference room and sat across from me at the big table. Like a firing squad.
Owen, apparently understanding the look on my face, spoke first.
“I came in specially for this when Kelsang called me,” he said, adding, “since it’s such a serious matter.”
“It was a mistake,” I whispered.
“No,” barked Rian, “it wasn’t.”
“We’ve just spent the morning looking back at all your work since you started here, and I’m sorry to say, it looks like this has been an ongoing issue,” Kelsang said, not unkindly.
“It hasn’t! This is the first time anything like this has ever happened to me. Ever!”
“Bullshit,” spit Rian. “Your byline is on at least thirty stories you’ve stolen from the wire.”
“Stolen? But … they’re cut downs. I didn’t steal anything. We pay for the wire services. And you assign us stuff to cut down. I wasn’t plagiarizing anything.”
“Then why did you put your byline on those pieces, Lex?” Kelsang added, gently.
“I didn’t! I don’t put my byline on anything. The copy editors decide. They write the headlines too. I don’t understand. I—”
