by Banks, R. R.
I mean, I always did my best and thought I turned in good work. But, to have a publisher think so highly of my writing that they require the new editor-in-chief to hire me? It's mind-boggling. Flattering, but totally mind-boggling.
“I – I honestly don't know what to say,” is all I can manage to choke out.
“I was hoping you could tell me why,” she says. “In all my years in this business, I’ve never seen this before.”
I shake my head. “I can't tell you why,” I say. “I don't even know who the new publisher is.”
“So, you never made plans to come back and work here with anybody?”
“No,” I say, shaking my head. “I was actually going to try and to do my own thing.”
“Your own thing?”
I nod. “Yeah. My own thing,” I say. “Honestly, I felt pretty stifled here. Helen spiked most of my story ideas. She never gave me the room or opportunity to grow as a writer – or the paper.”
“Well, I don't want to speak ill of my predecessor, but that's the understanding I was given,” Ava replies smoothly. “But still, you're a mystery to me. Are you…” she pauses, cutting her eyes over at me, “intimately involved with anyone in the industry?”
I stare at her for a long moment and feel anger swell inside of me until I snap. “If you're implying that I'm sleeping with someone to get this job, let me first say, that is entirely inappropriate, and frankly, rude as hell.”
I get to my feet and slam the mug down on her desk. The amused smile on her face only enrages me further. I reach down to grab my bag, but she stops me.
“You're right. That was inappropriate and rude. I sincerely apologize,” she says. “I am sorry, Emma. Please, have a seat.”
I stare daggers at her a moment longer. Seriously, it takes a lot of nerve to accuse somebody of sleeping their way into a job. Slowly, I sit back down, though I perch on the edge, my back ramrod straight, ready to walk out at the drop of a hat. The only reason I'm staying is because I'm curious as hell about where this is going.
“I’m pleased to see that you have some spirit in you,” she says. “Looks like you have a backbone. That's critical in this business. Especially as a woman.”
“Yeah, well, I don't particularly care for being accused of sleeping my way to the top,” I say.
“And I don't blame you. Again, I apologize for the inference.”
“Who is the new publisher?”
She looks at me thoughtfully for a moment. “I think they'll let you know when the time is right,” she says. “For now, my job – well, one of my jobs – is to get you up to speed.”
“You're just assuming I'll come back?”
She cocks her head at me like she's genuinely puzzled. “Why wouldn't you?” she asks, curiosity in her voice. “My understanding is that crime journalism is your dream career.”
I nod slowly. “It is,” I say. “But like I said earlier, I felt suffocated when Helen wouldn’t believe in me, and assigned me menial work, instead of letting me get out there and chase real news.”
She opens a folder on her desk and starts to pick up some of the clippings inside – my clippings. She glances at them, though I get the feeling that she's already read through them several times.
“Well, the good news is that I think you're a fantastically talented writer, Emma,” she says. “I do agree with our publisher, that your former editor was holding you back and not maximizing your talents. Which means that you're someone I can work with.”
“Thanks. I think.”
“I mean it as a compliment,” she replies. “I respect your ability and, interference from the publisher or not, I think you'd be a good addition to the staff. Some of your colleagues out there– not so much.”
I feel my stomach lurch as I look at her. “Are you going to let them all go?”
“Some of them, yes,” she says. “Many of them, in fact. I'm in the process of reviewing the staff now.”
I stare at her wide-eyed for a moment. The way she's so cavalier about firing people – some with families to think about – is so cold and so callous. It’s horrible. She looks at me and can obviously interpret the look on my face. Her expression softens a bit, and she gives me a small smile.
“It's not something I enjoy doing. Believe me. It's one aspect of this job I don't relish,” she says. “But, I've been tasked with streamlining and modernizing this paper and increasing circulation by at least fifty percent in the first year. To meet those goals, some tough decisions have to be made.”
I sit there, stunned by how quickly everything is changing. A day ago, I was all set to strike out on my own, create my own crime blog, and work for myself. Today, I'm being welcomed back into the fold – at the same place that had cast me out not all that long ago.
All thanks to some mysterious benefactor.
I really don't know what to think of it all. There's part of me that was looking forward to doing my own thing. Excited about it. But, my more practical side lived in constant fear of how I'd make it while growing my following enough to actually monetize my blog and make a living at it.
Now though, I have this fantastic opportunity to jump back into a paper with all the resources I could ever want. An already built platform to get my stories out there, and a chance to chase actual news. And I’ll have a steady paycheck.
So, why am I hesitating?
“So, when can you start?” Ava asks me.
I look at her, perplexed, trying to get my brain into gear. “I – I need some time to think,” I say. “This is all happening so fast, and I –”
“What is there to think about, Emma?”
I look at her, taken aback by the question a bit. I'm not one who's keen on high-pressure sales tactics, and I know she has a paper to operate, but she can't possibly believe she can bully me into coming back to appease this mysterious publisher.
“I just need to make sure this is the right decision for me, at this time in my life,” I say.
“What's the problem here, Emma?” she asks, a stunned expression on her face. “I thought you wanted to be a journalist.”
“Of course, I do.”
“Then, this is the place to do it,” she says. “Really, what's making you hesitate?'
“I just need some time to think,” I snap. “Things have changed –”
“In just the few weeks since my predecessor let you go?” she asks, arching a perfectly sculpted eyebrow.
“Yeah, since Helen kicked me to the curb,” I reply hotly. “I made a plan for myself, and now I need to decide whether or not to abandon it to come back.”
She raises her hands up a bit, her palms facing me. “Okay,” she says. “I won't keep pushing. Let me just say, if you want to be a real journalist, and not just a random blogger with a couple of thousand readers, this is the place to do it. This is where you can build a real platform. If you do well enough, you could use this place as a stepping stone to bigger and better things. That's certainly my long-term plan.”
The frank admission that she's using this place to further her own career startles me. That's not the kind of thing you typically hear from somebody in charge. Usually, they play the role of the lifer. The dedicated servant who will give their last dying breath for the place.
Not Ava though. She's bold and upfront – and I can respect that.
“Take a few days. Think things over,” she says, a slow grin touching her lips. “And then get your ass back in here. If you want to make it in this field, this is where you start. It's not glamorous – we're a small daily – but, it's a solid foundation to build on. You should be here, doing just that.”
She stands, and I follow suit. Ava leans across the desk and extends her hand to me. I take it and notice that although her hand is smooth and delicate, she has a firm, strong grip.
“I hope to hear from you soon, Emma.”
“You will,” I say. “One way or the other.”
“Thank you for coming in.”
“Thanks for the op
portunity,” I say. “I'll give it some serious thought.”
“Please do.”
I leave her office and walk through the newsroom, unable to avoid the curious stares from my old coworkers. I get the feeling many of them know what's coming – the dreaded reorganization. I figure some of them already know they're on the bubble, but they're trying to figure out how – and if – they fit into the coming structural shift. As well as how I fit into it all.
A question I need to answer for myself first.
Chapter Fourteen
Brice
“You're kidding me.”
I shake my head and stare at Pete, who's sitting in one of the chairs in front of my desk. He looks absolutely stunned by the news I just dropped on him.
“Serious as the proverbial heart attack,” I say.
“Why didn't you tell me you were going to do this?”
I give him a wry grin. “Because I knew you'd try to talk me out of it,” I say. “You'd give me a thousand different reasons why it won't work.”
“And I'd probably be right,” he says.
I shrug. “Maybe,” I say. “But, maybe not.”
“Come on, kid,” he says. “What in the hell do you know about running a newspaper?”
“Next to nothing,” I say and laugh. “But, I'm learning. I've been studying everything I can, trying to wrap my brain around it.”
“It's going to take you years to gain the level of competency –”
“Which is why I hired the best people I could find to help me,” I say. “I'm building a staff that will put me in the best position to learn on the job.”
Pete lets out a long breath and sits back in his seat. He looks at me for several long moments, not speaking, looking like he's still trying to wrap his head around it all.
“Honestly, it's no different than when I started CEM,” I explain. “I didn't know crap. So, I hired people – like you – who did. I learned as we went along, and I think we're doing okay, don't you?”
Pete gives me a rueful smile. “Touché, kid. Touché.”
“I said I wanted a new challenge,” I say. “I think I found it.”
“I'd say,” he chuckles. “So, where does this leave CEM?”
“In very capable hands – yours,” I say.
“Listen, I –”
“It's like I told you before, Pete,” I say, “there's nobody I trust more with CEM.”
“Yeah, but –”
I hold my hand up to stop him again. “But, I'm going to take your advice and not divest completely. I'll still be around. As far as the day-to-day decisions and operations go though, you're the man.”
Pete lets out a long breath and looks down at his hands, before looking back up at me again.
“You sure you're doing this for the right reasons, kid?”
“What do you mean?”
“Don't think I didn't notice that you bought the newspaper that fired Emma Simmonds,” he says, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. “Does acquiring that property have anything to do with her?”
I give him a small grin. “I could say no, but I think we'd both know that's a lie,” I say. “She might be part of it.”
“Part?” he asks, raising an eyebrow at me. “Or the motivating factor?”
I shrug. “I think she's got a world of talent,” I say. “She kept me reading, and that's saying something.”
“If you were interested in reading, a book would have been cheaper.”
“It's an investment,” I say. “The seller was pretty motivated. Got the whole operation for a song and dance.”
“I really hope you know what you're doing, kid,” he says.
“I don't,” I say. “But, that's why I hired good people. Worked out pretty well here.”
“You caught lightning in a bottle,” he says. “I worry about you being able to do it twice.”
I shrug. “It's money,” I say. “I'll always have the chance to make more. Which is why I'm not divesting fully from CEM.”
“Probably the smart play.”
“I'm really looking forward to this challenge, Pete. It's something new and totally different. You know how I get when I'm locked into a boring, tedious routine, and what it can lead to.”
“I do,” he says and nods.
“At least, with this, it won't be tedious or boring. I'll be learning new things,” I say. “And, taking on a big challenge of growing the paper. The old owner – or, I guess they're called the publisher – lacked motivation and was just content to let the paper die. He neglected it badly. Honestly, it probably wouldn't have survived another year.”
“Newspapers are a dying industry,” Pete says. “Even with pumping all this money and energy into it, the paper may still die in a year.”
“Possibly,” I say. “Or, I can be smart and adapt with the times. I can help this paper evolve into the digital age. I'm definitely not short on ideas, and I'm bringing in the right people to make this work. To make my vision for the Times Daily a reality.”
Pete's got an inscrutable expression on his face. I can tell he's not totally sold on this idea and thinks I'm making a rash decision. And maybe I am. Maybe, buying the paper just to make sure Emma has a job is stupid. Childish. It probably is.
But, I figure that it's my money. I worked my ass off for it, and I'll do what I please with it. Truth be told though, I really did get the place for next to nothing. Deavers was anxious to be out from under the paper and took pennies on the dollar for it. He spent more time explaining the reasons he wanted out than he did considering my offer before he accepted it. He didn't even try to negotiate, which surprised me.
And since I'm no idiot, I made sure to do some research before I even approached Deavers. I researched the market, the circulation numbers of the paper, the potential for growth, compared it to similarly sized papers in similar markets and put together what I thought was a fair proposal – though, taking care to leave enough room to negotiate up a bit if needed. It wasn't needed.
Yeah, I've got no experience in this arena, but I had no experience as an agent before I launched CEM. Pete thinks I can't catch lightning in a bottle twice – that only adds fuel to the fire for me. I'm competitive by nature, and when somebody tells me I can't do something, or expresses doubt that it can be done, it makes me hungry to prove them wrong.
There is nothing more satisfying than being able to walk up to my doubters and detractors, smile, and drop the mic on them. You don't even have to say a word. You just have to give them that look that lets them know they were wrong to doubt you. It's one of the greatest feelings in the world.
“Needless to say, I've got some reservations about the venture,” he says. “But, to be honest, I haven't seen you this excited about anything in a really long time. It's nice to see you so animated.”
“I am excited,” I say. “Like I told you, I needed a new challenge. This is definitely going to be that.”
Pete gives me a long, steady look. “You sure about this, kid?”
I nod. “One hundred percent. I feel energized again,” I say. “This change is exactly what I needed. It's not going to be easy, but it's necessary.”
“You've got my support,” he says. “One hundred percent. It's going to be weird without you here, though.”
“I think CEM can use a change too,” I say. “Some new, fresh ideas. I know you've got them.”
He smiles. “I may have a few.”
“Can't wait to see what you do with the place,” I say. “You've got full authority here, Pete.”
“I appreciate your faith in me,” he says.
“There's nobody I trust more.”
“You're a good man, Brice.”
“I’m not dying, Pete,” I say and laugh. “It's not like I'm gone forever. I'll be around. I'll probably still be in here bothering you all the time. I don't know that a publisher has a lot of official duties.”
“Good,” he says. “I want you to still be a strong presence here. This agency is your baby.”
/>
“It's yours now,” I correct him. “Take it to the next level. I know you’re capable of doing it.”
Pete sits there, a small, sad smile on his face, but also a look of anticipation and excitement. I think this change is going to be good for both of us. I think we both needed a shakeup. Something to snap us out of our mundane routine and help us take things in our lives – and careers – to that next level. I really believe this will be as good for Pete as it will be for me.
“Shit,” I say as I glance at the clock. “I have to run. I've got a meeting to get to.”
“Good luck,” Pete says as I stand and bolt out the door.
* * *
“Are you serious?” I ask.
Ava is sitting behind her desk, sipping from a bottle of water, and nods. “Deadly serious,” she says in that crisp, British accent.
“And you just let her walk out of here?”
“What was I supposed to do, chain her to a desk?” Ava asks. “I tried best I could, Brice.”
I sit back in the seat and blow out a frustrated breath. “I know you did.”
Ava came to me as a referral from a trusted colleague familiar with the industry. When I started to explore the possibility, I reached out to contacts I've made through CEM. A journalist turned screenwriter named Cathy, gave me Ava's number. We met over lunch, I was really impressed with her, and offered her the position on the spot. She accepted.
I know the paper is in good hands with her. She's tough as nails, has a no-nonsense attitude that reminds me of Pete, and seems to know the industry inside and out. Her reputation is sterling. But, because the industry can be so insular, and from what I understand, an old boys network, Ava never got many opportunities to advance.
I know she's not going to be with me forever. She's going to make a name for herself here at the Times Daily, and eventually, she'll get a lucrative offer from a bigger, more prestigious paper. And I don't begrudge her that. A small place like this is going to be a stepping stone not just for her, but for a lot of people – including Emma. Hopefully.