Virginal Headlines: Love Between The Headlines

by Knoebel, Candace

  “Are you new here?”

  With the papers gathered up, she started forward, and I sort of fell into an awkward pace behind her, tugging at the edge of my blouse. “Yeah. I’m here for the journalist position that just opened.”

  “You and everyone else in town,” she said with a small snort. “You’ll be the tenth interview this morning. Quinn’s been tossing them out left and right.” She paused and spun, eying me up and down. A slow-burning smirk tore across her face. “Quinn is going to eat you alive. Come. Let me help.”

  I glanced down at my nude blush, ankle-length pleated skirt and ivory satin blouse that had different-colored books printed all over it, wondering what she meant.

  “First off, I love the floral Doc Martens. Classic.” She kissed her fingers in an Italian fashion. “Second, you can’t go wrong with nude blush. Can I get a fuck yeah? But…” She spun suddenly. “And this is a strong but. Quinn is a shark. And by shark, I mean a vicious, blood-sniffing feminazi. Though I love her for it, you, my dear, are a bucket of chum in the water.”

  I touched at a strand of fallen hair. “How?”

  Grabbing a small compact mirror off what I assumed was her desk, she turned it on me. “You’re sweet. From those big bursting blue eyes of yours to the perfect curls in your hair—you’re a walking billboard of sugary sweetness. A modern-day nun. If it’s not screaming in your style, it’s definitely shouting from the way you hold yourself.”

  I went to put my hands on my hips, but hesitated instead and dropped my arms to my side. “I… I’m not sugary. I can be sour, too. Sometimes spicy.”

  “Are you a Thai dish?”

  My lips opened and then shut.

  “For the love of penis… here.” Poppy undid the first two buttons on my blouse. “Show a little flesh.”

  I glanced down at my chest, which was now visible through the sliver of fabric she opened, something I’d never think to do. The less skin I showed, the less I felt invaded by ogling eyes.

  After unpinning my hair and giving it a small plumping, she glanced at my shoes. “Size six?”

  I nodded.

  She disappeared behind the cubicle wall, only to emerge with a pair of nude, pointed-toe heels. A quick dangle, and I realized they were…

  “Are those Louboutins?”

  She handed them over. “I always keep a spare around for emergencies. Luckily for you, we’re the same size.”

  I didn’t know how to feel. On the one hand, my feet had never even touched such fine footwear. On the other, she just called me an emergency. “Thanks,” I said as she rolled out her chair. I quickly shifted out of my boots and into the red bottoms, which fit like a glove.

  “There.” She admired me as if I were a piece of art she’d just created. “That should get you by.”

  “But I thought this blog was about women and romance… not fashion.”

  Poppy snorted. “You think romance and fashion don’t go hand in hand?”

  I didn’t dare answer that.

  “Come. I’ll take you to Quinn.”

  I’d only been there maybe ten minutes, yet it already felt like I was walking into a death trap. But uncertainty only fueled me, and I was determined to make this work.

  “Quinn’s probably on a call, so when you’re in her office, don’t speak until spoken to. Okay?”

  “Okay.”

  “Don’t be shy either.”

  Don’t be shy. Advice I’ve heard too many times to count, as if it were a cure.

  “And don’t fidget.”

  “No fidgeting. Got it.”

  She gave me a swift, gentle pat on the back. “Okay, here we are. Good luck.”

  I peered into the office window, watching as Quinn battled with someone on the phone. She was shorter than I imagined. Somewhere around my height with a straight-pressed bob of jet-black hair and an angular face. Her eyes were rimmed in smoky tones, and her thin lips popped with red. Wearing a black pencil skirt and white blouse with red heels, every word she spoke punctuated off her lips with purpose.

  “Wow… she’s so—”

  “Boss bitch? Yeah, I know.” Poppy watched her with a longing sort of dreaminess. “One could only aspire to follow in her man-crushing heels.”

  “Man crushing?”

  “There’s a secret to Quinn. She came from our rival blog—Stud.” Poppy leaned closer, and I knew whatever she was about to say was juicy. “Truth is, she and the owner of Stud dubbed He who shan’t be named—Harrison Cunningham—started it up together, formerly known as The Cosmos. Rumor has it, they were a thing. Like nearly-walking-down-the-aisle kind of thing. The blog was supposed to feature both women and men, but Harrison fazed her out. Thus the beginning of Virago—a woman’s wrath.”

  I watched in partial horror, partial awe as Quinn faced the New York skyline with hands wrapped around her small waist. Spine pulled in a taut, confident line. Shoulders squared up to whatever may be thrown at her.

  Defiance seeped past the door.

  This was my potential new boss. The woman I had to impress in order to obtain my dream job. I glanced down at my heels with a bout of bile pressing against the back of my throat.

  Why did I have to wear the pleated skirt?

  “Poppy?” I called for her disappearing form.

  “Yeah?”

  “Does she bite?”

  Her grin said it all.

  With a deep breath, I knocked on the open door.

  After a few tense moments, Quinn’s gaze swung in my direction. “Who are you?”

  Three words that carried as much bite as a starved pit bull.

  I gulped. Tried to mimic her surly pose. “I’m Primrose Amberly. I’m here for the new position.”

  A sigh accompanied a swift roll of the eyes as she leaned toward the phone on her desk. “That article your little journalist boys wrote was complete and utter shit, and you know it, Harrison. I told you a thousand times. You come for me, and I’ll come for you tenfold.”

  A throaty, baritone chuckle pulsed through the speaker of the phone. “Oh, Quinny.

  Her shoulders stiffened. “Fuck off, Harry.”

  “You know I hate it when you call me that.”

  “Then we’re even.” With the swift punch of her finger, she ended the call. She had already started busying herself with papers on her desk. Moving some to the side. Throwing others in the overflowing bin beside her desk. “Do you know the difference between a man and a pig, Primrose?” she asked, taking her seat. Elbows pressed neatly against the desk as she waited expectantly.

  My thoughts scrambled to keep up with the facts I knew that pushed forward. But none had the chance to leave my lips, because she abruptly cut me off.

  “Exactly. Me neither.”

  The air around her expanded and contracted all at the same time. Like a black hole. Intriguing, yet dangerous. Luring with a threat.

  She gave me a once over that had my feet twisting in. As if she only just realized who’d been standing in her office. “Who accepted your application?”

  “You did.” I paused, fully aware of the edge to my voice. “Ma’am.”

  With a grunt, she stood and stalked around the desk. “Oh, Jesus. Who says ma’am anymore?”

  My edge backtracked. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

  Her eyes were like magnifying glasses. Inspecting every inch. Digging past the layer of skin, down into the parts I hid. “You’re a virgin, aren’t you?”

  Searing heat surged through my veins, filling the capillaries to the point of bursting. What the hell? Do I have the word green tattooed on my forehead?

  “Don’t be shy. This isn’t the kind of place where being shy works. You did read the disclosure, didn’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then you know nothing is sacred here. We write about sex. We talk about sex. This whole building was built on the back of sex.” She gave a grim sigh. “Frankly, I don’t think you’re ready for this. Sorry. Poppy can walk you out. I know you’re out t
here, Poppy.”

  Poppy popped her head around the open doorway, a telling grin to her lips. “Quinn, give her a chance. She’s sweet.”

  “And sweet gets eaten alive in this industry. Trust me.” Quinn paraded behind her desk, already pinning her attention to something more worthy. “Now, if you’ll excuse me. I’ve got a man-child to deal with.”

  With a brisk wave, she ushered us out.

  My shoulders were slumped to the floor as I headed out of her office. I freaking blew it. In seconds, my dreams went from soaring high to crashing right at my feet.

  “Tough go?” Poppy clutched an iPad to her chest.

  “You heard me. I bombed.”

  Poppy stopped and faced me. “Listen, Prim. Can I call you Prim?”

  I gave a weak nod.

  “I don’t know you very well, but something tells me you’d thrive here. You just… you’ve got to fight for it.”

  “Fight?”

  “Hell yeah. Like all the greats. The Suffragettes. Eleanor Roosevelt. Fuck… Rosie the Riveter.” Laughter spilled past her lips. “That’s what we stand for here. Kicking ass and taking names. Waiting for the day when we break through the proverbial glass ceiling. You want this job?”

  “Badly.”

  “Then here’s a tip—be Quinn. March back in there, prove you’re ready, and don’t take no for an answer.”

  Her words fastened themselves to my bones like tiny bombs, ticking off every few seconds, filling me with more and more confidence. “You’re right,” I said, nodding with her. Channeling my inner Gloria Steinem.

  With renewed confidence, I marched into Quinn’s office and stood just in front of her desk, not giving in until I had her attention. She was mid-call when she glanced up.

  “I’m going to call you back,” she said before hanging up the phone. “Did you forget something?”

  “Yes, your warm welcome into my new job.”

  Her perfectly groomed eyebrow lifted as her sharp gaze examined every subtle nuance of my face, searching for any sign of weakness.

  “I might come off sweet and inexperienced, but I’m the best at what I do whenever I put my mind to something. My resume is polished. I graduated at the top of my journalism class. I don’t cower from a crisis. I don’t give up. And I definitely don’t quit. All you have to do is give me an assignment. Just one, and I swear by the end of it, you’ll want to give me all your best leads.”

  She reached for a pencil. Tap, tap, tap, it went against the desk as the seconds shook with uncertainty between us. Chewing on the inside of her cheek, her head tilted.

  “Poppy,” her steely voice called.

  Poppy’s head peered once again around the doorway. “Yes?”

  “Get me the book.”

  Poppy’s eyes widened for a moment, a sign I took for fear, then she disappeared. I immediately questioned myself based off her reaction. What book was Quinn talking about? What fresh hell had I just committed myself to?

  As we waited for Poppy to return, silence tapped its fingers between us. I thought of a thousand different things to say, but I couldn’t find the confidence I’d just used to say them. It had all been sapped out of me by Poppy’s worried glance.

  When Poppy finally reappeared, I took a deep breath. She smiled at me as she handed the book to Quinn, but the smile wobbled.

  Quinn flipped through the word-littered pages. It looked like a personal journal. Some pages scattered with drawings. Others with pasted magazine articles. She flipped with familiarity, as if she’d done it a thousand times. “You have a sweet face.”

  I smiled. “Thank you.”

  “Oh, you won’t be thanking me in a second.” She stilled. Pointed to a page and smirked. “Well, Primrose… it seems I’ve found the perfect starting assignment for you. Something that will dip those pretty toes of yours into the pond. To pop that Virago cherry of yours.”

  I straightened, prepared for whatever she was about to throw at me.

  The grin that snaked across her lips sent a small chill down my spine. “I’ve been wanting to run a piece on how to turn a player into a stayer in thirty days. But—” her eyes skimmed me over, “in order for that to work out for you, you’d have to have a guy interested. Do you have a boyfriend?”

  “No.”

  “Talking to anyone?”

  “No.”

  “Are you familiar with the dating scene?”

  I could already feel my short window slipping. “Not really…”

  Quinn sighed. “So you see… eaten alive. But kudos for trying. Maybe in the next life.”

  She was already picking up the phone when I yelled, “Wait!” I reached into the pocket on the side of my skirt, hand shaking as my fingers closed around the small square card. “I… I have this.” After I slid the card across the desk in front of her, I stood back.

  It took a second, but the moment she realized what was on her desk, a shark-like grin began to bloom. “Grayson Pierce. My… my… And how did you manage to snag his personal number?”

  “He broke my Kindle.”

  “He was the one?” Poppy questioned with bulging eyes.

  Laughter sputtered past Quinn’s lips. “A broken Kindle, huh? Flirting sure has changed. I guess there’s a first for everything. So… what do you intend to do with this?”

  My mind wrung its thoughts together. I hadn’t gotten that far yet. “He can… I can… I can call him. He wanted to take me out tonight. Maybe… maybe I could write about him?”

  I knew I was driving off blind desperation. Sheer desire to see my dream to fruition.

  The rest, the panic and guilt, I would deal with later.

  The laughter that fired from Poppy made my ears burn with a tinge of shame. “No offense, Prim, but Grayson would chew you up and spit you out.” She raised an eyebrow at Quinn. “You really wouldn’t consider throwing her to the big bad wolf for her first assignment, would you?”

  Quinn didn’t bat a lash. “That big bad wolf is going to take one look at that face and lose his bite. All men have a weakness for the pure. She’s as pure as freshly fallen snow.” Her eyes focused dead on me. “But the real question is, can that pure heart of yours withstand him?”

  I knew this wasn’t a moment to stutter. But that was the thing about desperation… it loved to mimic courage. “It’s thirty days,” I said with casual indifference. “That should be more than enough time to get to know him. Make him fall for me. Uncover a few layers and hand over a generic piece about not being clingy and playing the aloof card. What’s to be scared of?”

  I wanted to choke on the words that rolled off my tongue, but, surprisingly, I didn’t. I’d listened to enough of my sister’s conversations and cryfests to know the difference. Which was why I chose to remain celibate. There was no way I’d give it up to a player such as Grayson.

  In that department, I was safe.

  Her laughter shot out. “Ha!” She slapped the desk. “I like her already. Go get ‘em, Cherry. Poppy, you’ll help her out, of course.”

  “Of course,” said with a smile thrown in my direction.

  “Good. Take this stack and scan it for me, and then, show her the ropes.”

  Poppy reached for the stack of papers.

  After a slippery moment of silence, Quinn peered up at us and said, “Now get out of my office. Headlines don’t write themselves, ladies.”

  Truth Serum

  I stood in the middle of my living room with my cell phone in one hand, and Grayson’s card in the other. With every number I pressed, the pit in my stomach grew. Put me one second closer to actually going through with my insane plan.

  As I hesitated over the call button, a flurry of emotions released from the pit of my stomach, migrating like butterflies through my nerves. Calling him would change the course of my life. I’d be ignorant not to acknowledge that. Was I ready? Could I truly go through with something that stood against all my principles?

  My hand dropped to the side with a big fat groan.

&nbs
p; A second later, my phone buzzed, eliciting a jump.

  It was Hazel, my younger sister. The only one out of the four I could relate to. The one who used to sneak into my room at night and cuddle up to me every time there was a thunderstorm. Who’d sit with me and listen to the many pieces of work I wrote and give honest feedback.

  “Hey, you,” I said as soon as I picked up. “How’s life?”

  “Oh, you know. Comparable to a trip from the car to the kitchen carrying every single fucking bag of groceries just so I won’t have to make a second trip only to trip over my feet—I bite off more than I can chew. You? How’s the city treating you?”

  And just like that, we picked up right where we left off.

  After a few seconds of mindless chatter, I couldn’t contain what was eating at my insides any longer. Not with a decision this colossal hanging in the balance. I had to tell her.

  I was never one to beat around the bush.

  After a brief moment of digestive silence, she cleared her throat and said, “Well, Prim, if all else fails, do what you do best.”

  “And that is?”

  “Procrastinate.”

  My nose scrunched as I chewed on my thumbnail. “I don’t procrastinate.”

  “Like hell you don’t,” she said with breathy laughter. “Whenever anything gets too sticky for you, that is exactly what you do.”

  “Name one time.”

  “Charlie Rivers.”

  Heat prickled beneath my skin. “I had to move for my career.”

  “Yeah, but did you explain that to him before you left?”

  Fudge.

  “You just skittered off into the night on a plane, then asked me to let him down for you.”

  A frown sewed itself to my lips as I picked at a frayed string on the pillow I clutched. “I didn’t want to hurt him.”

  “Do you think it felt good coming from your sister?”

  I muttered, “No.”

  Charlie was a nice boy. Someone I had gone on a few dates with in college.

  Someone who I knew deep down wasn’t the one.

  There was a pause, and then, “Listen, all your life you’ve avoided any kind of confrontation. What do you think will happen at the end of this assignment? He’ll simply understand and smile? You’ll part ways amicably?”