Conflicted (Secrets and Lies)

  Bri stared at me unmistakably annoyed. "They aren't running from their feelings. You are. It's to keep everyone out because of what happened with Micah."

  "Don't go there. We're not getting into that shit this early. I'm enjoying having no strings. There's no shame in that and it's not like I'm not safe about it," I snapped, glaring at her until she backed off.

  Her shoulders sagged on her way to her bedroom. Stopping short of her door, she wheeled around visibly concerned. "That isn't what I was implying. You aren't being honest with these guys or yourself. You've got to start letting people back at some point."

  My face flushed and my next words flew out with more bitterness than I intended. "Just stop. I have my meeting later today. This is the last thing I want to discuss. I let you in so I'm not shutting everyone out."

  I pushed off from the wall heading for my room. Bri shook her head but her eyes became more sympathetic as she followed me into my bedroom.

  "It's not my intention to make you feel like shit. I just worry about you."

  "I know. Let's put that worry to good use. Come help me find something to wear."

  We scanned through my clothes for a few minutes before I turned to her with a grin.

  "It was your turn to keep Jackson and Shane in line so that they didn't trash the place. I hate to be the bearer of bad news but you're going to have your hands full after class."

  "How bad is it?" Bri asked.

  Her head shot out of the closet as her eyes grew in alarm.

  "Let's just say it gives seeing red a whole new meaning," I teased.

  She grimaced before focusing back on my wardrobe. I scanned the clothes in front of me. My eyes zeroed in to my black pleated mini skirt and low cut red V-neck halter-top.

  "You're going to help me right?"

  I smiled. "You know I will. We have to stick together with these crazy boys. This one is going to take forever. I wouldn't be opposed to hiring someone to clean for us."

  She groaned grabbing the clothes that I was just considering and tossed them to me.

  "Yup, this is the outfit for today. I know you're nervous. This will definitely help."

  I cocked an eyebrow. I wasn't sure how showing a hell of a lot of skin would help me.

  Bri rolled her eyes. "You really don't get how hot you can make yourself."

  I shook my head in disagreement. I went for another outfit to piece together. Not liking that one either I let out an agitated huff. It wasn't the clothes that had me irritated in the least. "It's going to be weird to be back on campus today," I admitted.

  Bri nodded as the sympathetic look from earlier emerged in her eyes. "Do you have any clue what your advisor wants to talk to you about? I mean they expelled you with no eligibility to return. So what gives?"

  I shrugged. "I'm not sure. Academically, I'm pretty much ruined but maybe he has something that I can take that will get a toe towards journalism."

  Bri gave me a slight smile but I could tell that she didn't want me to get my hopes up. "I don't understand your field but you know I try."

  "I know and I appreciate it. All the in-depth conversations on the topic are for Jackson," I said, stifling my amusement. Her forehead wrinkled with her wheels spinning. "What?"

  "What's going on with you two? We've all noticed the amount of time you're spending with each other these days," Bri pried.

  She flopped onto the bed lying on her stomach. My back remained in her direction mostly so she couldn't see the aggravation on my face.

  "I'm getting to know him better now that we all live together. We've been friends for ages but being roommates is different," I said while fumbling around with my shirts.

  "He's a playboy. He doesn't do the girlfriend thing. I don't want to see you get hurt again," Bri cautioned.

  "You know that I'm not in the market for a boyfriend. I know who he is. Half our conversations are joking around about all his women. What's the big deal if we hang out more now? I hear that's what roommates do across America when they get along. What the hell Bri?"

  I pulled away from my clothes to face her feeling my neck flush as my temper started to climb. Taking a huge breath, she sat up. "I don't want to fight about this with you. I'm just making sure you know what you're doing because I know how crappy things have been for you after what Micah did to you."

  "If you don't want to fight, then stop pushing things that aren't issues. First, it was about whom I was kicking out of my bed this morning. Now, it's about how much time I'm spending with Jackson. Do you realize how judgmental you're being?" I bit back.

  Bri scooted to the edge of the bed with her eyes on her magenta painted toes. She shifted her gaze back to me with a half-smile. "Maybe I'm being a little too hard on you. I can't watch you fall apart again. Mia, I know that you were hurting but it tore me up to witness it," she said quietly.

  "You're looking out for me. I get it. I need you to understand that there's nothing there with Jackson. Is he attractive? Of course. Do we flirt? Yes. I enjoy his company, his friendship, but I don't want to be with him."

  Bri tried to maintain her smile but the uneasiness stretched across her face. I sat down next to her giving her shoulder a nudge to ease the tension. She grabbed the outfit that she had selected earlier. "This is the outfit hun. It's smart and sexy all in one package and you rock in it. If you want help with your hair and makeup, I'm all yours," she offered.

  I grinned. "Yea, it would be great if you could help me get all girly. It's one skill I never acquired being around so many boys growing up."

  She shuffled to the doorway. "True. I'll meet you in the bathroom in twenty."

  I had to give Bri credit. If you wanted a makeover, she was the person to see. Bri could take the ugliest person and make them drop dead gorgeous. She weaved intricate braids in my hair and tied them all back into a sophisticated bun. She gave me a final touch with smoky eyes and mascara. By the time Bri finished, I felt a lot more confident. I strolled into my room and over to my desk to finish off my ensemble. I rarely changed my diamond earrings. I picked up my long silver necklace and clasped it around my neck. I went with my black leather studded cuff sliding it over the scar on my right wrist that always remained covered.

  CHAPTER TWO

  I was a nervous wreck getting into my car. It had been close to nine months since I had set foot on that campus. I almost dropped the phone the day my advisor, Derrick, called and asked if I had time to meet with him. My expulsion from school after being set up with falsified information was the second most painful thing I had ever experienced. Finding out that it was none other than my boyfriend that did it to me slid into first place. I backed out of the driveway and drove through the side streets heading to the interstate towards campus. Flying down the interstate, I wondered what he had for me and why he didn't fill me in over the phone. It seemed a little odd to be taking a meeting with him on campus but whatever. Given the circumstances, I couldn't be picky about his lack of details.

  I started going through my portfolio in my head. I had done plenty of great work my first three years of college. My writing always hit with my target audiences. Before that, I had been editor of our school paper in high school. I was grateful to have this meeting with him. Journalism was a huge part of my life. I needed to get that part of me back.

  Before I knew it, the exit for campus was upon me. I steered over to the side of campus that housed all the journalism buildings to park my car. As I walked towards the building housing his office, the stares from students didn't go unnoticed. A few people stopped when I went by them. My stomach churned the entire walk. People were gawking from all angles. It was like being on exhibit at the damn zoo.

  I'm still the big gossip around here. Fan-fucking-tastic.

  I picked up my pace to get into the building. Thankfully, his office was on the first floor. I swiftly opened the door and greeted the elderly receptionist that handled all the appointments for the advisors.

  "Hello, I'm here for an appointment at two
with Mr. Smith."

  She gave me a bored glance. "Name?"

  "Mia Ryan."

  She gasped. "Oh yes, here you are. I have to admit that it surprised me to see your name on the calendar."

  Yea, I'm sure you were.

  "Derrick is running a bit behind in his schedule today," she said, motioning to take a seat.

  I went over to the old wooden chairs that lined the wall by the door and sat down praying to relax. My entire body was on edge with my nerves leading the pack of feelings swarming through me. I thought about my decision to attend Eckman University. It was a brilliant school for those wanting to pursue a career in journalism. It was elite in its ranking and one of the best private schools in the country. There was also the added benefit that it was a smaller college making it easier to develop relationships with the students and faculty.

  Eckman had a mixture of old and new to it. The journalism buildings were in the older part of campus where the buildings date back to early nineteenth century. Their dated appearance had been a quiet comfort to me. I always thought about all the excellent writers that adorned the same halls. It pushed me to do my best in my classes and on the paper. The paper published by the university was one of the oldest running prints in academia. Being on it was a privilege. When I became editor as a junior, I strove for nothing but the best.

  Before I could dwell any further, Derrick popped out of his office and signaled for me to join him. I headed to the chairs in front of his antique walnut desk. His office hadn't changed since the last time that I was in it. A chill ran down my spine as that particular memory flashed through my head. I blinked and shook my head to rid those thoughts from my mind. With that evening out of my head, I glanced around his office. The same accolades decorated the walls along with inspiring art pieces of the last century. As I sat down, the chair facing me whirled around putting me face to face with Harrison Reynolds from the magazine Inside Out. I gasped.

  Harrison was similar to Derrick in appearance. They were in their forties but aging well. Their hair had that salt and pepper touch to it. They kept their hair trimmed short but not quite a buzz cut. Derrick had a clean-shaven face while Harrison sported a trimmed goatee. They had casual dress sense wearing designer jeans with a button down shirts finished off with an unbuttoned sport coat.

  Derrick settled into the chair next to me letting out a soft chuckle. My cheeks flamed in embarrassment. Inside Out was on the rise. Serious journalists dreamt of working there. The articles in the magazine pushed the limits and kept readers engrossed by the sharp content. It didn't print fluff pieces. They ran an article last year that linked the Jersey mob to a series of local murders and crimes plaguing our metro area.

  Derrick shifted his chair so he had a better viewpoint of me. "How have you been Mia?"

  "Umm...I guess okay given the circumstances. It shocked me when you called wanting to see me." My eyes drifted over to Harrison who was assessing me with a finger fixed on his chin. "And now, I'm a little confused," I admitted with my nerves on the climb.

  Derrick glanced at Harrison. "Mia, this is my good friend Harrison Reynolds. I believe you are familiar with his magazine."

  I nodded as Harrison extended his hand to me giving it a firm shake.

  "It's nice to meet you Ms. Ryan. Derrick has told me a lot about you," he greeted.

  "The pleasure is all mine Mr. Reynolds."

  Derrick gave me an encouraging smile. I stared at him puzzled by Harrison's presence.

  "I can understand why you're confused Mia. After your dismissal from the university, I tried to appeal their decision to expel you. Unfortunately, they are set on making you an example. It's my understanding that you have elected to take the semester off from school."

  "I've decided to take some time off. I'm researching the best avenues to gain admission to a new school and reevaluating the direction to take my degree in should I get in somewhere."

  My focus shifted from Derrick over to Harrison. He wasn't a guy that met with simpletons like me. He seemed far too invested in making a certain impression with me as well. It had my guard up.

  "You can't be considering leaving the field of journalism. Mia, you're a natural. You create stories that inform and inspire readers. This incident may have happened but it didn't take your talent," Derrick exclaimed.

  His high-pitched tone grabbed my attention from sizing up Harrison.

  I feigned indifference. "I haven't decided on anything yet. It's safe to say that my credentials are nonexistent after my expulsion. I'm not saying it's what I want. I'm taking a realistic perspective on matters."

  "It's very logical approach to take with your situation. However, you can't throw away what you've accomplished. You have the type of talent that's worth fighting for which is what I've done for you," Derrick argued, crinkling his eyes.

  I tilted my head to him wholly baffled. He pierced his eyes to mine before continuing.

  "I gave Harrison some of your work when we were out for lunch a few weeks ago. He has an excellent eye for talent. He's the reason you're here today. Harrison believes that you're a perfect fit for a story he's been working on."

  Someone pinch me. Actually don't, if this is a dream, I don't want to wake up.

  Harrison rolled his fingers across the desk. The hard look in his eyes had me on edge. He appeared to be a man that got what he wanted regardless of the cost.

  "I've been piecing together evidence surrounding the financial institutions in our area. White crimes have increased within the last five years. Interestingly, they link to other crimes similar to the Jersey piece I printed last year. I've come to find some intriguing leads by sources in the field. I believe that you are the best candidate to help wrap up my investigation."

  "My knowledge in that area is limited at best. Research for school work is all I've done," I replied warily.

  "Ms. Ryan, the job I have in mind for you is nothing that you'll ever learn in a book," Harrison answered condescendingly.

  I narrowed my eyes. "Why do you want me? What's setting me above the thousands of people that have degrees in the field?"

  Harrison constricted his cold eyes. The inflexibility behind them freaked me out. He folded his hands together taking a deep breath. "The company that I've been researching has had a rise in the financial industry with remarkable links to the crimes that have been occurring throughout the metro area. The financial institutions that raise red flags are those that are owned without any true connection to mainstream institutions."

  He raised an eyebrow to verify I was still following him. I nodded for him to continue.

  "There is one privately owned financial company in our area which has been on the upswing for quite some time. It's curious they can remain solvent given the financial crisis and the state of the current economy without collaborating with larger institutions."

  And I just got a headache.

  I held my hands up for him to stop. My head was spinning. There was a reason I went into journalism and not business. Derrick sighed as Harrison took a deep breath.

  "I understand but I'm missing the part of how I'm a fit. I know next to nothing about the industry," I said skeptically.

  Harrison became rigid. It seemed that he had little patience for people that questioned him.

  "The company I'm referring to is F. F. Sweeney & Company."

  The light bulb in my head went off making it glaringly obvious why I was the best candidate. Their location was in the south side of the city, which happened to be where I grew up. They had been in business for as long as I lived in that neighborhood and probably went further back than my thirteen years there. It was common knowledge that you didn't mess with them.

  I'm missing something. I can't be the best candidate based on where I grew up. It doesn't add up.

  "Yes, I'm familiar with them," I confirmed.

  The nervousness from earlier left in a flash as tension settled throughout my body. Harrison smirked. He was really starting to rub me the wrong wa
y.

  "I'd like you to become an inside source for me. A mole. You can get a look at their company from the inside," he requested.

  "Why? Apart from having grown up there, I have no ties there," I countered.

  He started cracking his knuckles as his face flitted between irritated and amusement. "It's all timing. You aren't in school. It wouldn't be that farfetched for you to go back to your roots to gain some perspective. Why can't you get a job in the old neighborhood while you gain that perspective?" he said with breeziness to his voice.

  I frowned. "Let me get this straight. You want me to secure a position with F. F. Sweeney & Company to find as much information as I can from the inside."

  "That's the nuts and bolts of it. The information that you're going to obtain will be more by the relationships you build than any file you find. I'm not discouraging looking for any data but I doubt that information would be readily available," Harrison answered patiently.

  "I realize what you're saying but I'm still not clear on how this will work. Are they even hiring? How can you guarantee that they will pick me out a pool of candidates?"

  Harrison gave me another amused look forcing me to bite the inside of my lip to keep from scowling. His preposition was insane any way you sliced it.

  "Mia. You underestimate me. I've confirmed that they're in need of an entry-level candidate that exhibits up front potential. You're the ideal applicant. Your past connections to the neighborhood will more than likely seal the position for you," he assured.

  Now, I'm Mia all of a sudden. Why does it seem like I'm being charmed by the serpent to take a bite out of the tasty apple?

  "I still don't see how I'm supposed to pull this off," I disputed.

  Harrison leaned over the desk looking me in the eye. The hardness I noticed earlier was present again. I ignored his rigidness and sat up waiting for him to provide a better explanation.

  "Mia, all bullshit aside, I believe in you because of the exemplary work I've reviewed. You are shrewd, sharp, and salacious in your approach to writing. You're the type of person I need as a source. I'm sure the thought of being an inside informant is scary but is that any reason to walk away."