Total pages in book: 106
Estimated words: 100060 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 500(@200wpm)___ 400(@250wpm)___ 334(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100060 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 500(@200wpm)___ 400(@250wpm)___ 334(@300wpm)
“I know, but I had a mole removed and I wanted the picture to reflect the current me, so…” She’s getting ready to debunk that easy-to-verify lie, so I rush to continue. “Anyway, that’s neither here nor there.”
“Just like the mole,” Karina says around her first bite.
My laugh is cringingly loud. “Good one.” I park myself in the chair facing her desk, pretending I don’t notice her eyeroll. “There is something you should know. I’ve been following a story for a couple of weeks. Really, it just started as a hunch—”
“Elise, I appreciate your tenacity, but you are not employed here as a writer.” She gestures to the gigantic cubicle graveyard behind me. “All of those reporters and staff writers out there have paid their dues. Most of them suffered through J-school and a master’s degree to belong in these hallowed halls. This is the goddamn Gotham Times, sandwich girl. I like you, but you can’t just cut to the front of the line.”
My throat tightens like a zip tie has been pulled taut around it. She’s right. I know she’s right. But I’m not cut out for long hauls. I’d make it through one year of journalism school, tops. Forget about a master’s. I don’t have that kind of dedication inside of me. I’m not a sticker. I never stick. The consequences of my modus operandi were made very obvious earlier this year when I attempted to join the military, like my parents. To become a marine. I was running out of time to make them proud and this? It was surefire.
Except the marines didn’t want me.
“Hear me out, Karina. You know the feud going on between the mayor and that union boss, Jameson Crouch? They keep taking shots at each other in the press and somehow, Crouch seems to have inside information. Damaging information that is hurting the mayor’s approval rating, right before an election.” I wet my lips. “I started looking into his closest advisors and Deputy Mayor Alexander has some longstanding ties to Crouch. They went to the same high school, moved in the same crowds. So I started following Alexander and—”
“You did what?” Slowly, the managing editor sets down her sandwich. “You followed the deputy mayor?”
“Yes.”
“Are you out of your ever-loving mind, sandwich girl? Do you have any idea how politicians behave when their power is threatened? They can be downright dangerous when push comes to shove.” She swipes the napkin across her mouth and gears up to deliver what can only be a scathing lecture about safety—which I am prepared to accept—as long as she lets me pursue the story. But something stops her. Karina’s eyes fasten to a spot beyond my shoulder and widen considerably. “Who is that? Who are they?”
“Who?”
“They.” She gestures impatiently. “Those men.”
The bottom is already dropping out of my stomach when I turn around. There is no reason I should assume it’s the guys from the tram. We had a memorable encounter, sure, but to show up at my place of work the following day? That’s crazy. Right? Yes. Still, based on Karina’s reaction and some weird gut intuition…I somehow know who I’m going to see when I twist around in the chair. Maybe because seeing them again—and soon—felt inevitable.
There’s Gabe in his paint-splattered sweatshirt and jeans, holding a hard hat to his chest, looking woefully uncomfortable among the gawking staff writers.
Banks has already spotted me, his gaze cutting through the buzzing office and hitting me in the chest like an arrow strikes a bullseye. And obviously Tobias is leaning against the wall, grinning and wearing my missing badge around his neck.
“Oh my God,” I whisper, whipping back around, my face burning.
“You know them,” Karina says—a statement, not a question. There’s a reason she’s a managing editor. Her teeth were cut in the field of journalism as a White House correspondent. She can sniff out a lie from a hundred yards away. “How do you know them and what are they doing here? I already let you get away with the mole removal bullshit, so it better be the truth.”
“I…you’re my boss. I can’t tell you that truth.”
Karina throws up her hands. “Good God. I am not your boss. You report to the deli.”
I don’t receive that statement. “Do I, though?”
“Yes.”
“Technically, I work at the Gotham Times, though. See? I have a badge.”
“To get through security—” She cuts herself off, audibly grinding her teeth. “I already go to therapy twice a week. Don’t make me go a third time. Who are those men?”
My heart is palpitating at an alarming rate. “You know how the Roosevelt Island tram got stuck last night?”
“Yes, the story is on page three.”
I nod. “I was on one of those stalled cars with them. It was close quarters.” At a loss for how to explain, I shrug my shoulders all the way to my ears. “I lost my mind.”