by Sarah Cole
“Yes, Tally. I know. Dang… bust my eardrum why don’t ya?!”
“My apologies.”
“It’s fine, but how? How am I going to fix it when this,” I smack the magazine, rattling everything on my desk, “is out there for the world to see?!”
“Give me a moment. Let me think about this.” She closes her eyes, slipping into her meditative pose with her manicured fingers resting lightly on her temples. I roll my eyes and throw myself dramatically back into my office chair causing it to roll away. Without even opening her eyes, Tally reaches over and grabs the chair arm to stop me from getting too far. Arms like a freaking cobra that one. I shake my head in wonder as she continues to “think.”
Instead of trying to be helpful and actually think of a genuine solution, I pick up my phone and try to dial Hunter’s number. It rings a few times, then goes to voicemail. Naturally, like any self-respecting psycho girlfriend/ maybe ex-girlfriend, I hit redial immediately. Same thing. Third time’s a charm, right? Ok, straight to voicemail. Yep, he’s most definitely turned his phone off.
“Where are the takeout menus?” I ask in a calm voice. Almost too calm, and Tally opens one eye - probably to check if I’m nearing my inevitable breakdown.
“Filing cabinet. Third drawer.” She says, closing her eye again.
I call four different places and order everything. I’m not ashamed, I’m stressed. And I’m not going back to that meeting. There’s no way I can, because if I do, I know that my typically non-violent disposition will shift and I’ll go full padded room on Ashley. Then the cops would be called and with my luck, it’d be Hunter and Tanner that show up to cart me away to jail. Maybe that isn’t such a bad idea. Hmmm.
“I’ve got it!” Tally exclaims, and I’m hoping that maybe, just maybe, she has a better plan that doesn’t involve one of us getting arrested.
“You need to call Tanner. I know Hunter isn’t answering, but see if you can get him to talk to you. At least open Hunter up to the idea of talking. If that doesn’t work I’ve got something better. We – all of us – boycott Ashley and Trend until she issues a reprint or at the very least a reposting in the online editions. Eighty percent of readers are online now anyways. Give her a taste of her own medicine. Also, we’re going to flood social media with your actual story.” Tally says, and I sit silently mulling it over. Just the thought of this whole situation sends me into another fit of anger. I wonder if rage burns calories. I’m going to have to Google search that one.
“Verity, you need to-”
“No, no.” I stop Tally. “No need to repeat your British ass. I ignored you just fine the first time around, and frankly right now the fact that your accent and plan sound so damn perfect right now pisses me off even more! Why didn’t I think of that?”
She shakes her head. “Because you were too busy ordering a mountain of food. Listen, I still think you should try Tanner tonight. Don’t call when he’s with Hunter because you know he’ll ignore it. Just knock on his door tonight and see if he’ll hear you out. Right now though, we need to talk to the girls and see what we can do to make this happen before the meetings start back up.” Tally takes off her jacket then, and quite literally rolls up her sleeves. I just sit here blinking at her, trying to figure out how she figures rolling up her sleeves is actually going to affect her success. And she thinks that I’m the one with issues.
chapter 18
LESSON #18: Sometimes you have to pull out the big guns.
VERITY:
I finally make it into my building after probably the worst day I’ve had since I discovered I got my period at a fraternity party while wearing white jeans. Now thinking back on it, that day doesn’t seem that bad in comparison. Tally and I rounded up the girls and Preston in the office and explained what had happened. They’d all rushed back to their desks after the conference room incident and read my feature. We showed them how it should have been printed, and I think that was the final straw. Everyone was sick of getting walked on by Ashley and her bitch attitude. Apparently, this isn’t the first time this has happened around here, but no one has had an entire article changed like I did.
When she made her way back into the office, she seemed genuinely stunned to find her entire team waiting for her with pitchforks at the ready. Well, not pitchforks, but I had my favorite ink pen, and I’m pretty sure that Preston was packing his stapler. We said that we were going to boycott working until she printed a retraction. She didn’t seem to take us seriously, until Tally, Gigi and Alex showed her all of the social media posts and backlash we were already receiving. Not to mention Holly and Preston both have friends that work in the publishing industry that instantly posted, and they were already receiving messages from romance authors and other editors about what was printed, or not printed.
Finally, she took us seriously, and eventually agreed (after a four hour standoff), to print an online retraction. She just had to get approval. There’s no way that we could have hard copies reprinted now. It wasn’t in the budget, not to mention, no one in their right mind would sign off on it. I’ll take what I can get. I also requested a written apology to be printed in the next issue, along with a link to where my original article would be posted. Maybe that was a little bit overboard and demanding on my part, but if she cost me Hunter, I’d say it was a fair price.
As I was packing up to leave, Ashley stopped me to apologize. It was almost genuine, but when she pulled out her junior high acting class skills to turn on the fake water works, I was just over it. Tally offered to come home with me, but I had to decline. I knew I just needed a good cry and a pizza… and maybe some wine and chocolate, and believe me when I say that no one, and I mean no one wants to be there to watch me fit a whole pizza in my mouth.
So, now here I am, standing outside my door, thinking about the pizza coupons I have. I really hope that hipster pizza boy that calls me ma’am isn’t delivering tonight. I swear if I get called that today on top of everything else that has happened, I’ll lose my shit. My pizza daydreams aren’t the real reason I’m hovering outside my door. I’m stalling. I need to talk to Tanner, but I’m scared of getting the door in my face after the withering look he gave me earlier. If I hesitate any longer, I know I won’t knock, so I muster up what little determination I have left for the day and knock on his door.
After a few seconds, it opens just a bit, and when his eyes meet mine they narrow.
“What Verity?”
“Tanner, just open the door for a second. You have to listen to me.” I plead.
“Why? Verity, Hunter’s hurting. I thought you were different. I’m really disappointed in you.” He says, sounding an awful lot like my mother.
“I know he’s hurting, and I’m trying to make it right, but in order to do that you have to listen to me and open the door.”
He sighs and lets his head bang against the door frame before he reluctantly opens up. I push my way inside, and move to sit on the couch before I think better of it. You just never know with Tanner, so I opt for standing only.
“Ok, let’s talk then.” Tanner says lounging on the couch without a care in the world.
“That article?” I say and he nods, signaling he’s with me on this. “I didn’t write that. I wrote parts of it, but my boss completely changed everything.”
He eyes me skeptically, but I go on. “That article was supposed to be about me finding love –the real thing despite my best efforts of trying for perfection. It was supposed to be written like a love note of sorts to Hunter, but also have a brief interview with a relationship expert. It was supposed to be about girls holding guys to impossible standards, and about how if we just let go a little bit, we might find everything we’ve been looking for. Instead, it came off as man hating, feministic propaganda. There’s a reason we call Ashley Maxwell the Feminazi.” I sigh and sink down on the couch next to him. He eyes me with disbelief and I know it’s because I’m actually sitting on his furniture. I figure I’ve already hit rock bottom today, so I ca
n’t sink much lower. I’ll just have to be sure to take an extra hot shower and scrub with rubbing alcohol.
“I hear you, Verity, and I believe you. But the question is, how are you going to fix this? Hunter’s fucking embarrassed. I mean, the article even uses his name for Christ sakes.”
“I know, I know. We’re working on that. After we found out what was going on, everyone on our team sort of banded together to put my boss in her place. We can print a hard copy retraction, but the online issues are being edited and a formal apology will be printed next month. We’re trying to put it on blast with social media, but I just don’t know if that’s going to be enough. I tried calling several times today, but he won’t pick up. That’s why I figured you’re my best option, as much as I hate that.” I mutter the last part.
“Yeah, he was pretty pissed, but I think he’s torn up inside about it. He loves you, Verity. I don’t know why, but he does.” I punch him in the shoulder, but he continues, “Do you maybe have a hard copy of the article? I can try to get him to read it. I’ll also see if I can get him to give you a call tonight.”
“Yeah, I’ve got a copy on my laptop. Just give me like ten minutes to change and I’ll print it out for you. You can come grab it.”
“You guys are fucking crazy, you know that?” he asks as I stand up.
I just smile and let myself out.
HUNTER:
It hurts-hurts so bad. I groan as I roll over in bed clutching my stomach. It was a bad idea, but I ate two whole pizzas. I chose to eat instead of down the liquor in the cabinet. I knew I couldn’t be on shift tomorrow with a hangover. That’s damn near suicide, so I decided to eat instead. It seemed like a good idea at the time, but now I regret it. Because now not only do I feel like my heart is in a vice grip, I feel like I’m dying a slow, agonizing death. Death by pizza. If everything that was already printed wasn’t bad enough, this will just be the cherry on top. I’m leaving a real legacy behind – my parents will be so proud.
I get another cramp just as my phone starts ringing. Tanner. I hit ignore, knowing that he probably just wants to take me out to get me drunk and find me a friend for the evening. He mentioned that more than once today, and every time the thought just made me feel sicker than I am right now. I can’t deal with the Verity situation because I’m not even sure what to think. I’m conflicted because everything in me just can’t believe that the sweet woman I fell in love with would write that, but then I see it in black and white. So, I don’t fucking know. Even though I’m pissed and hurt, I can’t deny that I’m still in love with her. I probably won’t ever be able to stop loving her, and that thought alone is what guts me.
Tanner calls again, and I just shut my phone off. He and the rest of the world will survive the night without me. I pull my covers over my head and try to forget everything, but it’s no use. There’s no forgetting Verity Peterson.
***
When I arrive at the station the next morning, Tanner is already there waiting for me.
“I tried calling you last night.” He says in greeting.
“Yeah, I wasn’t really in the mood to go out and ‘catch some pussy’ as you said.”
“Nah, man. I didn’t figure. I was trying to tell you that Verity came by and she had some pretty interesting shit to say.”
“I’m not interested in what she had to say.” I lie, because I’m actually more than interested. We’ll just chalk my response up to a severe case of wounded pride.
“Well, if how you look is any indication of how the next few weeks are going to go for you without her, then I’d say you should be interested.” He takes a wad of rolled up papers from his back pocket and holds them out to me, smacking them into the palm of my hand.
“What’s this?” I question.
“Oh, I dunno... Maybe what Verity actually wrote, and what should have been printed before Ashley, her boss, changed the whole damn thing. Just take a look for yourself.” He says, walking out towards the parking garage where our squad cars are parked.
“Now hurry your ugly ass up! We’ve gotta hit the streets, help some old ladies find the bingo halls.” He yells over his shoulder, and his crazy ass actually makes me crack a smile.
“You drive today. I have to take a look at this.” I say, catching up to him.
“Aww, pookie, you’re actually trusting me to drive?” he coos, batting his eyelashes at me.
“Fuck no! Are you nuts? I never trust you to drive, Tanner. Just promise not to get us killed.” I slide into the passenger seat and make sure my seatbelt is fully functioning, because I truly don’t trust him behind the wheel of a motor vehicle – or a broken down vehicle for that matter.
I unroll the set of papers that Tanner handed me, and I see the date and Verity’s name along with the same article title at the top of the page. Beginning to read, I realize that it starts off very much the same, but the flow is much better. My heart pounds as I skim over the interview with Dr. Rose and really dive into the meat of her words.
“When I put the list aside, I learned so much more about myself and about love. I learned that real love doesn’t have guidelines or specific traits. Real love is limitless and freeing, and it fulfills you in many more ways than you can ever imagine. I was hesitant and skeptical after striking out at love so many times before, but Hunter pushed past those walls that I erected, and he showed me how it is supposed to be. As women, we put ourselves in impossible situations, and set impossible, unattainable goals so we can prove ourselves as being stronger, smarter, and prettier than the next person. We work hard every single day, then we come home and try to do the impossible in our love lives, as well. Why? It’s a simple question that I oftentimes find myself asking, and I have yet to find a real answer. The only answer I keep circling back to is, I don’t know.
Why do we force relationships and men to be perfect, when we know for certain that we as women are not at all perfect ourselves? We are flawed and so are relationships – at least the ones that are worth fighting for. I’ve spent a long time kissing frogs and searching for my Prince Charming. According to my list, my Prince Charming would be an ultra-sensitive, poetry reading, animal lover that never took charge. It was what I thought I wanted, but it wasn’t until Hunter forced himself into my life and my heart that I truly realized what I needed. I need him, and he has shown me time and time again, that the list means nothing if there isn’t any connection. Hunter and I had that from the very second we met, no matter how hard I fought to ignore it. I’m glad that connection was stronger than my will to fight, because if it wasn’t I wouldn’t have let myself fall completely and madly in love with Hunter Williams, the cocky cop that almost arrested me.
My challenge to you is put your standards aside for one second and tell your head to quiet down so you can listen to your heart. I’m not saying you won’t get hurt, but if there’s one thing I’ve learned over these past few months, it’s that true love is worth the fall.”
“Holy shit…” I feel like I just ran a marathon. My pulse is racing, I’m sweating, and I think I might pass out. Maybe I’m having a heart attack? Maybe I shouldn’t have eaten pizza for breakfast again.
“Good, yeah?” Tanner asks, swerving around a bicycle messenger, missing him by only a matter of inches.
“It’ll be even better if you don’t run someone over with the car.” I glare at him.
“Maybe you should call her now. I wasn’t going to tell you this, but after she had those pizzas delivered last night I heard her crying.” He keeps glancing from me back to the road. “What? You know how thin those walls are. Hate to say it, but I’d rather listen to you guys ride on the bang train all night than listen to her sobbing your name for seven and a half hours.”
“You’re serious?”
“As the heart attack you both are going to wind up having if you don’t stop eating your feelings instead of each other.” He smiles.
“You’re… I don’t even know. I have no words for what you are.” I say
; “Thank you.” he smiles like an idiot.
“It wasn’t exactly a compliment. Now, let me borrow your phone, I left mine at home.”
VERITY:
“Are you sure that Tanner gave him that original article to read?” Tally asks for the seventh time in the past forty-five minutes.
“He was supposed to, Tals, but you and I both know Tanner. I haven’t heard anything all day.” I sigh, clicking through this mandatory training. So far, the only good thing about this day is the fact that Ashley didn’t show up today. She had the good sense to take the rest of the week off. I think Preston’s stapler threat helped her make that decision. That along with the incident yesterday also helped HR and security make the decision to issue out required workplace violence and security training three months early.
“Well, did you check?” she asks again.
“No.” I say, opening my drawer to grab my purse. I search through, but my phone is absolutely nowhere to be found. “Well, that might be part of the problem. I don’t have my phone with me. I think I left it somewhere. I remember having it when I got coffee this morning.”
“Ugh, Verity! This is the third phone since Thanksgiving!” She throws up an exasperated hand. I know it’s not even going to do me any good to call around. In this city if you let it out of your site it’s as good as gone. I just call the customer service number I have memorized by now and have them black list the device so no one can use it, and place another order for yet another new phone. I cringe as I submit the order. You’d think the carrier would give me the damn discount at this point since I’ve spent so much, but no.
“I think it might be time to launch the second part of this master plan. I won’t have a phone for at least twenty four hours.”