Page 43 of All's Fair in Love and Blackmail
Unless…maybe that’s just heartburn from the leftover Chinese I had earlier?
“Well,” Poppy says over the phone as I rub my chest, “I wouldn’t worry about it.”
“Okay,” I say, exhaling and trying to feel relieved. “I won’t. Thanks, Poppy.”
“Thank you!” Juliet says too. “We’ll talk to you later!”
“Bye, girlies,” Poppy says, and then we hang up. As one, Juliet and Aurora look at me.
“Well?” Aurora says. “Do you feel better?”
“I…think so?” I say. “Maybe?” Then I shake my head. “I don’t know. I need to sleep on it.”
“Go to bed,” Aurora says, already scooching down the bed, her eyes drifting closed. She elbows Juliet.
“I’m going, I’m going,” Jules grumbles as she climbs out of Aurora’s bed.
“Turn the light off on your way out.”
“Yes, Your Highness,” Juliet says, and I grin.
Juliet and I are in our beds ten minutes later. And even though I’m still feeling a little confused, my most prevalent emotion as we switch our lamps off is one of relief—because of what Poppy said, yes, but also because at least I know Aurora and Jules have my back, no matter what.
Still, I lie awake for a long time after Juliet falls asleep. I stare at the ceiling as my mind races through everything that’s happened today. Part of me is tempted to get up and go for a run, although I would never do something like that in the middle of the night. So I settle for planning ahead instead. I go through my bucket list and decide what I want to do next—learn how to bake a carrot cake—and then, upon further emotional inspection, decide that joining a dating site might also be a good idea.
That way I can get my mind off Felix Caine once and for all.
FELIX
Every morning Herb,editor-in-chief of the Four-Leaf Gazette and my boss, likes to start the day with a team meeting. Since the Gazette is about as tiny as a paper can be, this consists of eight people crowded around a table not meant for eight people.
The rest of our space isn’t actually that bad. We’re in a little office on Main, the same place the paper has been since its opening. It’s a bit dated, with Berber carpet and dark-paneled walls, but it gets the job done. We’ve updated the things that need to be updated, too; we’re not working on giant, two-ton computers anymore, for example.
But as of yet, we have not splurged on a conference table, and I don’t see it happening any time soon, either.
“All right,” Herb says to the group of us, bobbing at the head of the table that would probably more comfortably seat a family of six. He points at the dry erase board with his marker, his wrinkled hand steady despite his age. “Updates, please.”
Opposite me, Veronda sits upright in her chair, her red lips pursed. She’s been a little cooler toward me since I started working with India, and although I don’t love the drop in temperature, I am grateful that she seems to be losing interest.
We go around the table one by one, each sharing what we’re working on and how our stories are going. When my turn comes, I say, “I’m heading back to one location today to get some better pictures, probably sooner rather than later, and checking out a few more places this week as well.”
Herb nods. “Good, good—tour guide treating you well? I want a well-rounded perspective on these places,” he says, and I nod, too.
“I’ll make sure of it,” I say.
“Well, just let me know if you need Veronda,” Herb says, gesturing to her, “and I’ll see if I can spare her.” He smiles at Veronda, who smiles back.
It’s not convincing, as far as smiles go—slightly brittle, a little empty, kind of like India’s when I asked if she still felt good about her motorcycle—although maybe I’m imagining things. Still, I nod gratefully at Herb and then at Veronda.
“I’ll keep you updated,” I say, “but I’m good for now.”
Herb moves on, but my mind remains on the piece I’m doing—or, more specifically, on the woman helping me with the piece I’m doing.
It’s weird to think that India probably sat at this very same table. Some of the people here might even remember her. It shouldn’t bother me that she never said anything about interning here, but…for some reason, it does.
It just seems strange. Why wouldn’t she mention that she worked here? She’s literally helping me with a projectfor the paper. Wouldn’t it be normal to tell me?
“And now,” Herb says, and the eagerness in his voice pulls me out of my thoughts and back to the meeting. “I have something very exciting to announce.” He’s practically bouncing, I notice, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet, his hands clasped together in front of his rotund belly as he beams around at us. “It is with great pleasure that I am finally able to share…” He pauses, though there’s clearly nothing hesitant about him; judging by the way his gleeful eyes dart around at us, I think he’s just trying to build our anticipation. He finally lets out a booming laugh and goes on, “I can share that the channel twelve news will be running a one-hour special on the Gazette!”
