by Smoke, Lucy
“I get it,” Taylor said, drawing me back from my thoughts.
I turned to him with a smile. “You’ve flown a lot, too, haven’t you?” I guessed. “I mean, you would have to if you’re from the west coast but going to school on the east coast.”
Taylor shrugged. “Even before I came here, I flew a lot. My parents are talent agents in California. When I was a kid they had me in all sorts of baby and kid commercials. Sometimes, they would fly me to shooting locations.”
My jaw dropped. “You were a child star?” I couldn’t picture it – well, I could. Donovan Taylor would have been an adorable little boy with a cute cherub face and curling blond locks. They would have been in wild disarray around his face, rather than the slightly curled strands that fell around his shoulders. Today he had his hair pulled back in a bun at the back of his head, showing off his angular face, and his sharp, defined features, reminding me how handsome he actually was. So often, I only saw him as adorable and sweet because of his personality. It didn’t matter though. I loved both sides of him.
“I wouldn’t go that far,” he replied, sipping his coffee. “My parents are in the business. Sometimes, it felt like everyone was either in the business or trying to get into the business in California. When I got to high school, I dropped all the commercials and stuff. It was fun, but I enjoyed sports more. My parents tried to get me to take parts in rom-coms and teen drama shows. They promised that I could play the jock.” His eyes slid over to the window as well and I realized that instead of watching the planes, I had taken to watching him. “I didn’t want to play the jock, though,” he said. “I wanted to play sports. It’s fun. It gets my adrenaline going. The game is about the mind as much as it is about the physicality. There is strategy to it. It’s not just a bunch of guys running at each other.”
I didn’t really understand football, but I agreed with what he said as I watched him with new eyes.
I enjoyed the quiet between us as we finished our drinks and then got up to return to the group. We held hands the entire way back and Taylor returned to his jovial, sweet self. I felt like I had seen something deeper inside of him, though, and I liked it.
Chapter 6
Washington DC, home of the White House and the president of the United States. I could scarcely believe that I was here – that we were here. The guys descended the steps with me as we left the Ronald Reagan National Airport. I could already tell it was busier here than it ever was back at Winthrope University. The airport itself was packed and outside was no different. A wind swept through outside the terminal and I shivered, rubbing my hands down my arms.
“Jamie!” I turned at the call of my name. The guys were already standing to the side of a large yellow van with a popup taxi label. I hurried over. They had already tucked our bags away in the back. Cody got into the front while Dex and Taylor got into the very back. Darren waited in the middle section for me. I crawled in and slid the door closed.
All four of them laughed at me as I pressed my face to the window while Cody gave the driver the address to the hotel we would be staying at. I gasped when we rounded a street. Old town trolleys in red and gold moved through the streets with tourists clicking their cameras at people walking by. This city was old. It held our country’s history. I could feel the historicism in the air as Cody rolled down the window from the front and turned, grinning at me over his shoulder. I grinned back.
The taxi pulled up to our hotel several minutes later and we all got out. Darren and Taylor went around back to start unloading our bags while Dex paid the driver and Cody and I went inside to check in. A tall, blond man with a clean-shaven face stood there with pursed lips. I blinked at his startling face. His lips were much larger than any man I had seen before and I realized then that he wasn't a man at all, but a woman.
My eyes widened still when the woman opened her mouth and a low, raspy voice came out when she spoke. "Two? Do you have a reservation?"
Cody didn't even stutter. "We have a reservation for a suite. We have a party of five." Her voice sounded like she had been smoking for years, but she couldn't have been older than thirty.
The masculine woman nodded and clicked away on her computer while I distracted myself by glancing around the lobby. Everything was done in burgundy and gold; from the curtains draped around the windows to the couches for guests to sit on. Dex had said he found a good deal for all of us but looking around, this place seemed a lot fancier than any Holiday Inn I had ever been to.
When the rest of the guys came in, lugging our bags with them, I saw Darren stiffen and shoot Dex a dirty look. I had a bad feeling about this, but no one said anything as the woman handed over five key cards and directed us to the elevators. Our room was on the fifth floor at the far end. We headed for the elevator, barely managing to squeeze all of us in. Darren's jaw was set, and I could feel the panic and irritation emanating from him. We had all agreed to split the hotel and I knew he had to be worried he couldn't afford it.
He kept his cool until we at least got into the suite. When the door closed Darren let the bags drop and he swung around to Dex. "What the hell, man?" he demanded.
"What?" Dex raised a brow.
"This place..." Darren shoved a hand into his hair as if he couldn't find the words to use. I bit my lip, taking a step towards him. I wanted to calm him. I just didn't know how.
"Don't worry, it's covered," Dex said with a wave of his hand.
Darren's nostrils flared and his eyes hardened. "No, that was not the deal, man. You fucked this up. You know I can't afford a place like this."
"We're splitting the costs, at Jamie's request, remember?" Dex frowned, confused. "I don't see a problem."
"Because you can afford something like this without blinking an eye, dammit!"
Taylor moved between them as Darren advanced on Dex. Cody grabbed my arm and tugged me away.
"I got a discount," Dex said, his lips thinning out in anger, "and I don't like the way you're fucking talking to me, man."
"Guys, don't do this in front of Jamie," Taylor said, putting a hand on both of their chests. "We're here for her. We're here to support her. If it's about money, Dare, don't–"
"Don't you see how this makes me look, Dex?" Darren ignored Taylor's words and spoke across from him. "I can't afford to give Jamie the things she wants. You can."
"It's not a competition, Darren," I finally said. He flicked his eyes to me and deep inside, I realized that he was hurt. I pulled away from Cody and went to him. "Darren." My hands touched his chest and Taylor backed up. "Do you really think I'm that materialistic?" I asked. "That I'm happier with things than with people?"
Darren shook his head, his eyes sliding to the floor. "That's not what I meant, Sweetheart. I just wish..."
"I'm not rich either, Darren," I said. "Do you want to break up with me?"
Darren jerked his head up and looked at me. His deep hazel eyes boring into me. He shook his head almost violently, his hands coming out to grip my hips and pull me closer to him. "No, Sweetheart. I want you no matter what."
"Then I can want you, too," I stated with finality. "I love you. I love Dex and Cody and Taylor too. It's going to be okay. You need to lean on us more. We're your family. Don't keep track, I'm not."
"It's different with men, Baby," Dex said from behind me, then directed his voice to Darren. "I'm sorry, man, I didn't mean...I didn't think it was a big deal. This place...my family owns it. So...it's technically not costing us anything. I thought it would be easier on you."
Darren sighed and then met Dex's gaze over my shoulder. "I'm sorry I went off on you like that."
Dex moved around Taylor and clasped his shoulder in that brotherly fashion that men did. "It's okay, man."
Since we were being all touchy-feely and opening up our feelings, I decided to push something else...finally. "There's another reason that we're here besides my tour and internship opportunity," I said hesitantly. I wondered how Darren would react when I finally told him that I contacte
d the Rangers via email on his behalf. Would he be mad?
"What do you mean?" Cody was the one to ask this time.
I looked away from Darren and answered Cody's question, feeling safer when I was looking at him. "I kinda, sorta, maybe, might have found a letter addressed to Darren about being drafted to the Rangers and I set up a meeting with one of the teams’ coaches and one of their managers for him to meet with them."
The hands around my waist gripped me even harder. "You did what?" Darren's voice was low, angry, and shocked.
Dex sighed. "You can't really blame her man, you kept it from everyone else."
Darren shot Dex a scathing look. "Everyone but you," he snapped. "I fucking trusted you."
"He didn't tell me until after I found the letter," I said quickly. "Please don't be mad at him."
Darren closed his eyes and released me with one hand to pinch the bridge of his nose in frustration. He blew out a quick breath before finally opening his eyes and looking at me. "I can't believe you did that, Jamie." I flinched. Darren never called me by my name. Anything other than Sweetheart made me feel like I was in trouble.
"I'm not sorry," I said, standing my ground anyway. "This is a big opportunity for you. You can't just throw it away."
"I wasn't throwing it away. I was still considering," he said. "Now, you've forced my hand and I have to meet with these guys."
I sighed. "Okay, well I'm sorry that I forced your hand, but I want you to be happy and you love playing football and you could make a lot of money at it and this might be the weekend of your big break," I pushed.
"When is the meeting?" he asked.
I winced. "Tomorrow at two pm."
Darren sighed. "Well, at least you gave me the courtesy of telling me in advance. I'm lucky I packed a suit."
"If you hadn't, I would have for you," Dex said.
“You knew about this?”
Cody and Taylor looked back and forth between the three of us, both of them confused and discomfort plain on their faces. I sighed. “Why don’t you guys go grab us some lunch and we’ll work it out?” I suggested.
They both shook their heads at me. “Nah.” Taylor was the first to speak. “We’re a group, a team. We’ll stay.” That warmed my heart like nothing else.
I turned back to Darren and Dex. "Yes," I told Darren. "He knew, but you're not going to get mad at him. You're going to go to that meeting tomorrow and you're gonna rock it."
Darren sighed, but his lips quirked. "Oh, am I?" he asked.
I nodded, patting his chest. "Yes, you are."
"I think it's better to listen to her about this," Dex said. "She's not gonna give up until you do." I stared at Darren so that he would know that Dex was right. "Besides, what could a meeting hurt?" Dex continued. "We're already here."
Darren sighed, his entire body sagging against me. He caved. I had won. We had won! I was so happy. So excited. And I couldn't wait to start on the next leg of our journey. First things first, though, I needed to get ready for my own meeting tomorrow and the tour.
* * *
The floors seemed to be made of glass...I knew they weren't actually, but my heels clicked across them, echoing so loudly I was sure that at any second the ground would crack beneath me. That and they were super shiny – like they were polished once an hour, which was probably an exaggeration, but I could definitely see my reflection in the white and black flooring of the new Washington Post headquarters building.
I slowly turned in a circle as people passed me. I didn't care if they looked at me weird. I would have loved to have seen the old headquarters – history had been made there. Somehow though, when the newspaper had moved into this grand, new building they had brought that with them. I could feel it in the air.
"Excuse me, ma'am, please don't block the entryway," one of the receptionists called to me. I blushed furiously and hurried to move forward. Everyone, I had learned, that lived in DC was always in a rush. This wasn't a city like I was used to. Even in Charleston or Charlotte, people moved at a much more leisurely pace. Here, it was Go! Go! Go! all the time.
"I'm sorry," The blush remained fixed on my cheeks as I spoke. "Do you know where the meeting for the USPA internship candidates is?" I asked.
The woman – a fifty-something-year-old with white-gray hair that was pulled tightly into a bun at the back of her head and lipstick that was just a few shades too dark for her skin tone – sniffed at me once before she typed at something on her computer screen. "Conference room 221B," she said. "Take the elevators to your right and go up to the second floor. It should be easy enough to find. All of the rooms are labeled."
I nodded and expressed my thanks before I rushed to catch the next elevator up. I was fifteen minutes early because I didn't know what to expect from these people. Did I need to be even earlier? No. That wouldn't have been good. Too early shows too much enthusiasm. I needed to play hard to get. I had read that in an interview book somewhere. Make them think my time was worth something and that in taking this meeting, I was sacrificing my time because I thought they were worth it. It would make them want to see my worth.
I took a breath as the elevator rose up to the second floor. When I disembarked a couple of others followed behind me. One person in particular was a red-haired girl wearing a sharp black pencil skirt and a flowing polka dot blouse. I looked down at my plain black dress. It was professional, but it probably wasn't very fashionable. Oh, hell, now I was thinking about fashion? I wanted to smack myself. I was definitely overthinking this.
The receptionist had been right. I found the conference room marked 221B fairly easily and the girl with the pretty blouse followed me inside. I took a seat and saw that there were two gentlemen and a woman standing up front. The woman was slender and light-skinned with dark hair and fine lines around the edges of her lips and eyes. One man was a tall, African American dressed in a sharp navy-blue suit paired with a snow-white shirt. The other man was gray-haired with a protruding belly and a bald spot in the middle of the back of his head.
There was a clock above the door and my gaze kept straying to it as my fingers tapped against my legs while we waited for the meeting to begin. When the clock struck exactly 1:30, one of the gentlemen stood and went over and closed the door.
"Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen," the woman announced. "My name is Patricia Hartley. I'm a senior journalist and editor here at the Washington Post."
"And I am David Costello," the gray-haired man said. "I've been a journalist here for twenty-seven years working mainly in sports and business."
"And my name is Terrence Johnson," the second man said as he came to stand next to the woman. "I run many of the Washington Post's social media platforms. It is a pleasure to have you all join us today. We are grateful that you have taken time out of your busy schedules to be here. Before we begin, we would like to let you know that after the tour today, a handful of you will be selected to come back tomorrow for a secondary interview."
"For those handful, you will return tomorrow, and everyone is welcome to bring a date. We will be throwing an intimate press gathering and announcing those that have been selected for the internship as well as the winners of the United States Press Association Story Award," Patricia Hartley said.
I could feel my heart pounding up into my throat, blocking my airway. I could scarcely breathe. "For now, though, relax." David Costello struggled to get down from the platform. "Mrs. Hartley and Mr. Johnson will be introducing you to the new Washington Post as a multimedia conglomerate for the United States. You are the future, ladies and gentlemen. Pay attention and enjoy the lesson." With that, he walked – well, more waddled really – out of the room and left us with Patricia Hartley and Terrence Johnson. His contribution to this little meeting was over. I wondered why he had even been there.
Mrs. Hartley and Mr. Johnson split us up into groups and I ended up following behind Mrs. Hartley, though I would have rather gone with Mr. Johnson. He seemed to be the youngest of the three and he was
in charge of social media platforms – I wanted to ask him questions. See how that worked. I wondered if he wrote for the paper in other aspects. Did he run all of the social media platforms? Or just some of the main branches like Twitter, Facebook, Instagram, and Snapchat? Which did he prefer and why?
Mrs. Hartley was talking and, in my mind, I was already prepping to ask Mr. Johnson questions. I sighed and refocused my attention on her as she led our group back through the front hall.
The building that housed the premiere newspaper, and now multimedia conglomerate of Washington DC, was so much more than floors and walls. It was the building that housed the future. I followed behind, asking questions at regular intervals, hoping to treat the tour as what it really was – another interview. I wanted to be noticed by Mrs. Hartley in the best of ways.
She stopped all of us at the end of the tour, turning abruptly on her low kitten heels and gracing us with a sharp smile. "Alright, who can tell me what the Post's motto is?"
Several hands shot up and a bit hesitant, I raised mine. I had seen how this woman selected people to answer questions throughout the tour. She only chose those who seemed unsure. When they had gotten an answer wrong, she had enjoyed correcting them. I wondered if it was a power thing or a teaching thing. Whichever it was, I knew the answer to this, but I played hesitant. I wanted to be selected. I wanted to get it right. The phrase fluttered around in my mind and when she called on me, I sucked in a breath.
"Democracy dies in darkness," I said.
Mrs. Hartley smiled brightly, leading me to believe that her intentions had been all about teaching. "That's correct," she said. "Can anyone tell me why?"