"Yeah. It sucks. I need to go say goodbye to my aunt." Laurel checked her watch. She had ten minutes before the taxi was due to reappear.
"Ok." Carrie let her out of the car. "I’m going to go home now. Thank you, Natalie."
"It was my pleasure." Laurel gave her most charming grin. It was the one that always made Nicole’s knees weak. It had the same effect on Carrie. She reached out and kissed the other woman’s hand. "Drive safe."
"I will."
Laurel did not watch the car leave the parking space. Instead, she walked back to the bar. She headed first to the bathroom to wash her hands. Jude was waiting at the bar when she came back.
"Have fun, kid?"
"A blast." Laurel answered. "Thanks for everything. I need to get back and get some sleep. Keep the bill ok?"
"I will if you do something for me."
"What?" She turned back to face the bartender.
"Give ‘em hell. Don’t let those bastards get ya down. And don’t quit, or they’ll win. We need good representation out there." Jude advised.
"Ok." Laurel felt bemused. Now she was a champion for the gay rights movement. She wondered, as she exited the bar, how that happened.
She leaned against the outside wall and lit a cigarette. The driver was due to return soon, and she wanted to wait outside. Her tryst with Carry left her with something to ponder. Jude’s words did too. It was yet more to think about for an already over worked mind.
The questions her encounter with Carrie raised were the easiest to answer. When Laurel was fifteen, the daughter of her mother’s best friend seduced her. Sex became another way to get back at her parents. That was not the problem though. She never understood why it was so hard for her to let someone else touch her. She had no memories of abuse. She suffered from nightmares, but they were always about the car accident, setting the gas can on fire during a bonfire, or something else that almost got her killed. It was not a product of abuse, it was not painful, but she did not know what it could be. It was something she never talked about with anyone. Nicole could cross those boundaries, but it was not easy for either of them. In fact, it had become difficult for Laurel to let down her defenses that much after the accident. She wondered if that were not the root and branch of her problem.
Jude had been correct. Laurel now had another reason for staying on the road. If she were to walk away now, whoever wrote that article would win the game. As much as she hated it, she was forced to stick it out. Laurel Anne Kendrick was not a quitter. She would not let them be right about her. She had read the article. Mandy sent a copy of it to her. It was interesting to note that no one person was given credit for the story, and no mention of Nicole’s name was anywhere in it. Either the photographer had something to do with it, which she doubted, or the true nature of their relationship was better hidden than either of them had believed. Either way, she would soon find out. She still remembered a certain critic’s home phone number.
"You ready ma’am?" The taxi driver asked as he pulled up to the curb.
"Yeah. Thanks for coming back, buddy."
"After the tip you gave me, there’s no way in hell I was gonna let you be stranded out here. Where to?"
"Back to the hotel. I have to call another reporter." She climbed into the backseat and let herself relax into the cushions.
"Calling in a story? Are you following those bands around?"
"You could say that."
***
Nicole sat back in the chair behind her grandfather’s desk. The article she finished was very distressing. What was worse was Jeff did not even have the decency to sign it. Laurel’s high school graduation photo stared at her from the desk. She turned the paper over.
"What were you thinking, Jeff?" She asked quietly. Sheryl had sent her the paper with more of her mail. An unnamed source was quoted throughout the article, but Nicole was never mentioned.
According to Danny, the band was now operating under a blanket of silence. He called the manager after the article came out, but was denied access to Laurel. That was also distressing. After reading the article, Nicole was sure the bassist would blame her for it. Now there was no way to apologize. All windows of opportunity had been barred and shuttered. There was only one thing she could do about it. She had to go to Hattiesburg and get the rest of her stuff anyway. It would be so easy to pay a little visit to the paper’s publisher while she was there.
"Ready to go?" Stan stuck his head past the door.
"Yeah, we have to run a few errands while we’re there." Nicole cut out the article, folded it and stuck it in her pocket.
"Banks and stuff like that?"
"I thought we’d go visit a few old friends at work."
"That’s a nasty grin you got there, cuz. I’m glad I’m not on the receiving end of it. May I ask what’s going on?" Stan asked as he started the truck.
"Well." Nicole fastened her seatbelt. "You know the reason I quit the paper?"
"Yeah. You told me that."
"Well, listen to this." She was glad to see that the article upset him as well. It was her fourth time reading it. It sounded worse each and every time.
She was fuming so much that the ride to Hattiesburg seemed to take twice as long as normal. It did not though. Stan was an expert at driving the large diesel truck. He made good time, better time than she often did. She wondered, when she realized how quickly they made it there, if the same person taught Sheryl to drive. The critic was well known for her speeding ticket collection.
"Stan, can you take us by the paper first?"
"Sure. Where is it?" He asked as they pulled to a stop at the city’s busiest intersection.
"Turn right." She instructed. He followed her directions without question and soon they were pulling into the parking lot at the paper.
"Wahoo, look who came to visit." Sheryl threw down her cigarette and hurried to meet the truck.
"Hey. Jeff here?" Nicole was too upset for niceties.
"Yeah. He’s inside. Guess this means you read the article?"
"That wasn’t an article. It was a hack job." Stan ranted as he climbed out of the truck. "Hey Sheryl."
"Hi. Look, you wanna meet us a Mabel’s like normal after you yell at Jeff? Personally I don’t want to be anywhere around when that happens, so I’ll just take your cousin off. You can take my car."
"That’ll work." Nicole was disappointed that she would not have emotional support, but did not want to jeopardize Sheryl’s job.
"Come on, farmer boy, let’s get out of here." Sheryl handed her keys to Nicole and corralled Stan back into the truck.
Nicole paused for a moment before entering the building. She had to wait for the receptionist to return. She no longer had a key, so she was not allowed past the gate without permission. She did not know whom she wanted to yell at first, so she asked to see both the publisher and Jeff. With every minute she waited, the closer to her boiling point she became. She had thought that the story would die the moment she walked out the door. That is what upset her the most. She sacrificed her career and it did not do a bit of good.
"Nicole, they’ll see you now." The receptionist buzzed her through. "They’re in the conference room."
"Thanks." She remembered where it was easily.
"Come to ask for your job back?" Jeff asked as she entered the room. She carefully closed the door behind her.
"I thought you were going to be civil, Jeff." The publisher reprimanded him. "If you can’t be than you have to leave."
"I will be." The supervising photographer grumbled.
"Have a seat, Nicole. Have a drink and tell us what brings you back to us."
"I’m here to discuss that article with you, sir." She remained standing.
"What article would that be?" The publisher asked.
"Mr. Pinket, have you been informed of the reasons behind my departure?"
"Jeff said that you two had a disagreement over something, and you left over it. It did not sound quite right, or in character f
or you, Nicole. However, you were not here to tell me otherwise."
"Do you keep up with what’s going on in your paper closely, sir?"
"I try to. I must admit I was on vacation a few weeks ago, and Ruth took over for me. Why?"
"Because I left over this." Nicole pulled the front page of the article from her pocket and handed it to him. "Jeff originally wanted me to do the story since I was friends with Ms. Kendrick, but I refused. He then told me to do it or walk, so I walked. I was not prepared to see the story that cost me my job in the paper anyway." She watched as Jeff tried to become one with his chair. "I believed that according to our guidelines, a story this damaging to an individual was beneath us. Having known Laurel Kendrick for a little over two years, I can say that the unnamed source was so off the target; this paper is now liable for damages incurred to Ms. Kendrick’s reputation. More so, it can be proven in court, and I would gladly testify as a character witness, as would several other names of note in this town."
"I must say that this is not news. Jeff, what were you thinking? This is a hack job, pure and simple. Do you have something out for that girl?" The publisher really looked upset. Nicole smiled to herself. "And who is this unnamed source?"
"I’m not at liberty to say." Jeff held to every journalist’s single point of protection. "It would compromise my sources."
"Bullshit." Nicole was startled to hear the old man use such language. Her estimation of Max Pinket jumped several notches. "Get Ruth in here." He punched the intercom and did not wait for an answer. "You will tell me who said all this. We need a deposition or something. Jeff, what if she sues?" He seemed more upset with the threat of litigation than he did the actual article.
"Just how do you know these things aren’t true?" Jeff finally exploded.
"Because I know who her lover was for the time you indicated she was seducing anything that moved. I also know a few of her professors, and they can tell you she never slept with them for better grades. I also know the rest of the band. Matter of fact, I’m surprised the two no longer with blue gecko aren’t here already." She smiled wickedly. It was a bluff, but they did not know that. "And I was there when Jody was killed. Now, are you going to implicate me in any of this? Oh, and let’s not forget who her parents are."
"Who are this girl’s parents?" Mr. Pinket asked. Jeff paled a little at the implied threat.
"They’re public servants on the Gulf Coast." Nicole answered.
"They have ties to certain powerful families." Jeff clarified.
"Jesus. Did you think at all?" The publisher fumed. "Get our lawyers and find a reporter. Get the redheaded one." Mr. Pinket used the intercom again.
"Sheryl’s gone for the day, sir. Should I send in anyone else?"
"Not at the moment. We’ll page her later. Where’s Ruth?"
"Right here, Max." Only the highest-ranking staff at the paper could call him by his first name.
"What is the meaning of this tripe?" Nicole seemed to disappear into the background as he ranted. It took him half an hour to calm down and only then did he remember the photographer. "Nicole, let me walk you to your car."
"Yes sir."
"Thank you for bringing that to my attention. You can assure your friend that we’ll have Sheryl issue a full retraction in Sunday’s paper. We will also send copies of it to the AP wire so everyone will know."
"I’m sure she’ll be relieved sir." Nicole waited until they were outside before asking the two questions she really wanted to know the answers to. "Are you going to make Jeff reveal his source and what are you going to do to him?" The only hint her former supervisor had given was that his source was someone close to the band.
"I can’t legally make him tell if the source asked for anonymity. However, Mr. Daniels will soon be cleaning out his desk. We are not a super market rag. We are a respectable paper. That story is not good journalism." He cleared his throat. "There shall soon be another opening here, if you know of anyone who would wish to apply."
"If I meet anyone like that, I’ll let them know. I’m done with Hattiesburg, Mr. Pinket." She unlocked Sheryl’s car. "I’ll let Sheryl know you need to speak with her."
"Thank you. I’m sorry you won’t be joining us again. I was hoping you’d bring more awards to this place." He genuinely seemed to regret her choice. She knew that was not necessarily personal.
"Thank you for the offer."
"Best of luck wherever you end up." He waved as he walked back to the building.
"Thanks." She added softly. The car started easily. It was time to go spread the word.
The traffic was as light as usual. After driving in New Orleans again, she expected more cars. Danny was doing his show on the radio, and she was tempted to use Sheryl’s cellular to call and harass him. However, he and Aaron had volunteered to help her move, so she left him alone. She could call and irritate him from New Orleans just as easily.
As she was driving, she wondered what else could happen. It was an old saying that bad things happen in threes, but she did not know if the article counted as the third. The first was the break up with Laurel, the second was her grandmother’s illness, but the third could be anything. She turned into the parking lot of Mabel’s and realized she really did not want to know. She could live without seeing what was behind trap number three.
"Did you kick his ass?" Stan asked as she crossed the establishment.
"I don’t kick ass." Nicole corrected. "I merely informed Mr. Pinket of the article’s existence and let him kick Jeff’s ass."
"So we need a new supervising photographer?" Sheryl asked.
"Yep. They’re going to page you in a few minutes."
"Why page me?"
"Because you are tasked with covering the paper’s ass so Laurel won’t sue." Nicole told her.
"Laurel wouldn’t sue, would she?" Stan asked.
"I don’t think she would. I don’t know anymore though."
"What do you mean by that, Hotshot?"
"I mean that three months is a long time. I have no idea who she could have morphed into while on the road. Besides, her manager could talk her into suing. It might seem the way to salvage her reputation."
"Damn. There went the pager. I’ll see you at the house when this is finished." Sheryl stood to leave. "I’ll be there to help, I promise."
"I know. You always are." Nicole smiled at her friend. "Go to work. We’ll go pack."
"Alright. Later."
"Bye Sheryl." Stan called behind her. "Anywhere else we need to go?"
"Nope. Just to the house I think."
Chapter Twenty Two
Sheryl could hear her phone ring through the door. Her lock was frozen, and she was having a hard time getting the door open. It was not turning out to be a good day. She of all people was now required to write a formal apology and an article on the good side of Laurel Kendrick. She knew it was going to be harder than it sounded. Laurel was too a good a friend for Sheryl to keep her personal bias under control.
"Hello?" Sheryl picked up the phone just in time to hear the outgoing message from her answering machine.
"Sheryl?"
"Laurel?" She sat down on the arm of her couch. "Is that you?"
"Yeah. Were you expecting your fairy godmother?" She could hear the suppressed laughter in the other voice. It did not surprise her. Most of their conversations could be considered mild flirting.
"Well, you know how it is with them. They never call unless they want something, or you have a few extra rats laying around for them to play with."
"I’ll remember that if I ever meet one."
"You do that. So what’s up?" Sheryl willed her heart to slow. She could barely hear Laurel’s voice over the pounding in her ears. She cursed the universe’s sense of irony as well.
"I read a little story a few days ago that ran in your paper. Seems someone there, too cowardly to give a name, doesn’t like me much." The humor disappeared from Laurel’s tone.
"So why are you calling me about it?
" Something about the bassist’s voiced sounded strange.
"Well, the love of my life no longer has a listed phone number, that sucks major dick by the way, and Danny does not seem to work at a paper." She could tell now. Laurel was drunk. The bassist let her thick southern accent through only under three conditions, one of which was if she were intoxicated.
"I didn’t have anything to do with the article. Neither did Nicole." Sheryl wanted to make that clear.
"Ah reckoned that much. What Ah wanna know is who the fuck did."
"Actually, it’s a good thing you called." She had to keep herself from imitating that accent. It was natural for her to pick one up when she heard it. That was the only reason she passed her foreign language classes.
"An why’s that?"
"There was a meeting today. The person who wrote the article has been canned, the person who let the article be printed has been demoted, and we’re issuing a full apology on Sunday." She thought it best to give details, but not all of them.
"That’s cool. Maybe Ah can start showin’ my face agin. Do ya know how hard it is to get from place to place with your head covered? Fortunately Ah don’t yet, but Ah was worried it was comin’ to that."
"How much have you had to drink?" Sheryl laughed. She was worried, but Laurel was a funny drunk, most of the time, anyway.
"A few beers and stuff." The answer was vague. "How’s Nicole?"
"She’s ok. She could be better, she could be worse. You know the drill." Sheryl was now in a quandary. She could either tell Laurel everything and hope the bassist came home, or she could act as if nothing were wrong and let them sort it out. Laurel’s intoxication sealed the decision. Sheryl had been around her enough to know that the bassist would not remember the conversation well in the morning. It was pointless to try to talk to her about anything serious.
"That’s good. It sucks, but it’s good." As always, Laurel saw things with her own brand of logic. "How’re you?"
"I’m good for the most part. You?"
All That Jazz Page 24