The One I Love to Hate

by Amanda Weaver

  “Killington, huh? Very nice. You find any luscious young ladies to keep you warm up there in the snow?”

  “Nope. Just me and the slopes.” He smiled so hard, it felt as if his cheek muscles were going to spasm. “I’m gonna grab a coffee. See you in the editorial meeting this morning?”

  ClickNews, as a cutting-edge social media company, had the requisite open-plan office, hoverboards in the hallways, and a staff masseuse, but what it didn’t have was a clear chain of command. Alex wasn’t Chase’s supervisor, but no one else seemed to be, either, so early on, Alex had stepped in and organized weekly editorial meetings, just to bring some sense of order to the place.

  Chase cast a quick glance at his phone, as if he were verifying something. “Umm, can we throw that to tomorrow morning? Just gotta tie up a few more loose ends today before I’m ready to assign this week’s stories.”

  Bingo. Whatever Chase had just read on his phone prompted him to put off the meeting till tomorrow. Since he was just back in town after nearly a week away, Alex would bet his right arm that he was meeting up with his source from the Brooklyn Daily Post. Now he just needed an opportunity to check Chase’s phone for the details.

  * * *

  Open-plan offices sucked for Alex’s concentration, but it made keeping tabs on Chase throughout the day much easier. The problem was, the guy never left his phone unattended. If he was up wandering around—and he wandered around a lot, always hanging on the back of some woman’s chair, flirting while she tried to work—it was in his pocket. As lunchtime approached, Alex decided to get devious.

  First, he asked Andy Birnbaum in marketing to lunch. Then he stopped by Chase’s desk and casually asked him to go, too, almost as an afterthought. While Chase was pulling on his coat, Alex bumped the phone, resting on the edge of Chase’s desk, into the trash can. Out of sight, out of mind. Chase didn’t even notice he didn’t have it as they left the office. As they passed out the door, Alex hauled up short and groaned.

  “Ah... I forgot I have to sit in on a conference call with my dad about the new Brazilian network. You guys go on without me.”

  “You sure?” Chase asked.

  “Yeah. I have no idea how long it’ll take.”

  “Want us to bring you something back?” Andy offered, like a decent friend, not a lying shit-stain like Chase.

  “Nah. I’ll just order in.”

  Still oblivious, Chase and Andy left for lunch. One benefit to his squeaky-clean rep—the one Chase had teased him about for years—was that, when he chose to lie, no one suspected a thing.

  Once he was sure they were gone, he sprinted back to Chase’s desk and fished the phone out of the trash. There was always the chance Chase would notice he’d left it and come back for it, so he didn’t waste time. It was password protected, but that posed no challenge. He’d known Chase since middle school, and the idiot used the same password for nearly everything, including his phone.

  His texts weren’t very informative, other than outlining just how many women Chase was stringing along at the same time. His emails were also a bust. On a hunch, he swiped left out of the main screen of apps. On the next page, hidden in a folder called “Random” was the icon for BulletChat, the same messaging app he and Jess had used as Peabody and PaperGirl. A separate app just for his subterfuge. That was almost genius-level thinking for Chase.

  There were three conversations in there. Each recipient was identified only by a series of letters—BDP, DN, and NYP. The first one proved to be his contact at the Brooklyn Daily Post. A quick glance at the other two conversations proved his suspicions were correct. Chase was stealing stories from more than one paper.

  The conversation with his contact at the Daily Post was sparse, but the pertinent info was there. They were meeting tonight, at some bar in Greenpoint. He jotted down the bar and the time on a Post-It, carefully backed out of the app, and placed Chase’s phone on the floor, just under his chair, as if it had fallen there.

  Then he grabbed his coat and headed for the door. He had a few more things to arrange, and to get all the pieces into place, he was going to need some help.

  * * *

  Walking through the lobby of the Drake Tower, with its soaring ceilings and imported Italian marble floor, usually left Alex swimming in dread. Today, driven by anger and a thirst for retribution, he strode through like he owned the place. Which he kind of did.

  Seymour, the daytime head of security, smiled and waved him through the automated turnstiles. Bypassing the banks of public elevators, he beelined to the last one on the right, his father’s private express elevator, and punched in the security code. The elevator ascended with enough speed to make his ears pop.

  On the forty-third floor, Zofia, his father’s receptionist, flashed him the stern grimace that passed as her smile.

  “Good afternoon, Mr. Drake. Are you here to see your father?”

  “That would be great. Does he have time?”

  “I’d say you’ve got four minutes. Maybe five.”

  “Thanks, Zofia.”

  His father’s office door was cracked open and he could hear Dan on the phone. Pushing the door open, he stepped inside, motioning to his wrist to ask his father for a minute of his time.

  “We’ll finish this up later, Pete. Alex needs me.” Dan ended the call and leaned back in his chair. He was silhouetted against the bright expanse of the glass wall behind him, and beyond that, a sweeping view of Central Park. “Alex, to what do I owe this rare pleasure?”

  It was true Alex spent as little time at Drake Tower as he could manage, for someone being groomed to take it over one day. Drake Tower and this office, despite the luxury and glorious views, had always made him feel suffocated.

  “I need you to make a phone call for me.”

  Dan grinned. “You must really need some pull if you’re hitting up your old man for favors. What is it? Knicks tickets? You want to borrow the jet?”

  “Nothing like that. I want you to call Mariel Kemper and ask her to meet you for a drink tonight.”

  One of Dan Drake’s greatest attributes was the expansive imagination that allowed him to instantly envision countless outcomes from every situation. It made him very hard to surprise or shock. Alex experienced a small moment of satisfaction in rendering his father momentarily speechless.

  Dan blinked in consternation, then cleared his throat. “Mariel Kemper? You want me to ask out Mariel Kemper.”

  “Yes. Tonight. It has to be tonight.”

  “Son, you’d better back up and start at the beginning, because I’m willing to bet my right leg that there’s a hell of a story here.”

  “You could say that.”

  So, as succinctly as possible, Alex told his father what he’d learned of Chase’s betrayal.

  “I hope to God you fired the little shit on the spot,” he fumed when Alex finished.

  “No, not yet. He’s only part of the problem, Dad. Someone at the Brooklyn Daily Post is feeding him those stories, and we need to find out who it is.”

  “Alex, that isn’t our problem. Mariel Kemper can see to her own staff.”

  “She thinks she already has, but she’s got it wrong. She fired Jess because she thinks Jess did it.”

  Dan was silent as he examined Alex through narrowed eyes. Looking down at his desk, he straightened his pen, his voice off-handed as he asked the question Alex knew was coming. “I know you’re involved with the girl, but, Alex, what makes you so sure she didn’t?”

  “Because I know Jess. This isn’t something she’d do. Not ever.”

  “I hate to be the one to point this out, but she is sleeping with the son of the owner of Drake Media now. Quite a position for an ambitious young lady to find herself in.”

  Closing his eyes, Alex counted to ten and willed away the rage. He’d gone over all of this in the cab on the way over. He knew his father
would go there. Logically, it made absolute sense that he would.

  “Not Jess. I promise you. And if you want proof... Well, she broke up with me last night, so I’m pretty sure that sleeping with me to get ahead is not at all on her agenda.”

  Dan let out a sputter of disbelieving laughter. “She broke up with you?”

  “I know you don’t encounter this often, Dad, but not every woman finds us irresistible.”

  “I saw her wrapped around you in the kitchen. I’m pretty sure she does.”

  Alex dropped his eyes to the thick, slate gray carpet. “That’s not enough for Jess. She wants more from me...things I can’t give her. She’s principled, Dad, in a way few people in this world are. She’s not for sale.”

  “Everybody’s for sale.”

  “Not her. Working for Mariel at that paper...it’s all she ever wanted out of life.”

  Dan’s eyebrows hiked sharply. “You’re right. She’s not ambitious.”

  “She is, but in a different way. This...” He waved a hand around Dan’s office. “She really doesn’t care. But being a reporter for that paper? It was her dream. And someone at that paper sold her out, with Chase’s help. I intend to fix it.”

  Dan blew out a weary breath. “And that requires me asking Mariel Kemper out on a date?”

  “Not a date, exactly.” Alex passed the Post-It with the location and time across the desk. “I just need her to be there, at that time.”

  “What makes you think she’ll say yes to me? She’s not my biggest fan.”

  Alex grinned at his father. “Dad, you disappoint me. Are you telling me you can’t convince her?”

  “I never said that.”

  “Well?”

  “She’s not exactly in my speed dial.”

  “Surely you can track her down. Not the paper’s number. Her cell. She’ll pay attention then.”

  With another sigh, Dan snatched up the phone receiver and stabbed a button. “Pete, get me Steve in our security division. I need him to find somebody for me.”

  “Thanks, Dad.”

  Dan pointed a finger at him as he waited to be connected to Steve. “I’ll get her there. After that, it’s on you.”

  “I’ve got it under control.”

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  When all you wanted to do was lie in bed and wallow in your heartbreak, leave it to your unfeeling sister to haul you out and put you to work.

  The next morning, Gemma, sensing Jess was fragile and on the verge of a total emotional meltdown, dragged her with her to the bar for the onerous monthly maintenance session.

  Gemma was inventorying the liquor while Jess took apart the beer taps for deep cleaning. Livie was better than either of them at mechanical stuff, so the taps were usually her job, but she’d escaped to the library as soon as it opened. Jess didn’t mind so much today. Wrestling with a crescent wrench and draining hoses kept her mind occupied just enough to keep her from going catatonic with sadness.

  Walking out on Alex last night had felt awful. Today, it still felt awful. She’d just needed space to think, but so far, nothing was any clearer, except that she loved him and missed him.

  She hadn’t heard a word from him. The idea that her words last night might be final was burning away at her gut like acid. She was frozen with indecision, desperate to call him and apologize, but still feeling the issue that drove her away was valid.

  “You’re quiet today,” Gemma said into the silence of the empty bar.

  “Just concentrating on not getting a face full of Bud Light. I think we’re gonna have to replace these washers soon.”

  “I’ll add it to the list. Everything okay with Superman?”

  “Who?”

  “Your boyfriend.”

  “Oh. I always think of him as more Captain America than Superman.”

  “I can see that. So?”

  “Um...there are just some things we have to work out.” She would not use the words broken up. She refused. And if she didn’t say it, it couldn’t be true, right?

  “Like? Is he treating you okay? I worry about guys like that, with all that money. They think they can get away with anything.”

  “It’s not that. He treats me great. It’s just...things are weird with his job.”

  “At the website?”

  “No, that’s just temporary. Eventually he’s going to work for Drake Media. Actually, one day he’ll take it over.”

  “Oh. Wow. That’s a big deal.”

  “Yeah.”

  They worked in silence for a few more minutes while Jess turned it over in her mind.

  “Hey, Gemma,” she finally asked. “Do you like the bar?”

  “What...our bar?”

  “Yeah. Do you like it here?”

  Gemma cast a brief glance around the room and shrugged. “Sure. It’s like home.”

  “But...” Jess threw down the crescent wrench when she couldn’t get the last nut free.

  Gemma abandoned her task, too, turning to face her and leaning back against the liquor shelves. “What’s this about? Spit it out.”

  “Do you think...if Mom hadn’t died, if Dad hadn’t needed you...would you have chosen to work here, anyway?”

  Gemma paused. “I’ve been behind this bar for so long I can’t imagine anything different.”

  “But did you? Once? Before Mom?”

  Gemma considered it carefully. “I had those same fantasies that all kids have. I wanted to be a vet, and an astronaut, and a famous actress. Well, every kid but you and Livie. You guys were such little weirdos. I’d never seen a kid read the New York Times front-to-back the way you were doing at ten years old.”

  “Yeah, but when you get a little older, you want things that are real. Did you ever want something like that?”

  “No, not really. I always saw myself right here.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Why are you pushing this?”

  Jess had been quietly carrying around her feelings of guilt where Gemma was concerned for years. It was time to clear the air. If Gemma wanted something more for life, then she should get it. And Alex was right. If Jess was needed, there was no way she could say no. Could this be the silver lining to getting fired? Maybe it was time for her to step up and take her turn at the bar.

  “I worry, Gemma, that you wanted something more for yourself and you gave it up so Livie and I could go for it instead. You sacrificed everything for us.”

  Gemma blinked, her dark eyes full of disbelief. “You feel guilty because I work at the bar?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Well, that’s just stupid,” she replied with her usual brusque directness. “This was my choice, working here. I told you, it’s like home.”

  “And you don’t feel...I don’t know...trapped? Forced into it? Obligated?”

  “Maybe I feel some obligation to keep it going but hey...” She broke off and reached for Jess’s hand. “Look at me. If I feel obligated, it’s for my own reasons. This place is my history. It’s my legacy. Mine. It’s important to me to keep it going. That’s the obligation I feel. It’s not about you and Livie.”

  “You swear?”

  Gemma scoffed. “You think I’d let the two of you off the hook if I felt like you owed me?”

  “Fair point,” Jess said with a laugh, running her hands over her face in relief. “But you promise me, if you ever feel like we need to step up, you’ll tell us?”

  “If I think you can help, I will. But hey, I chose this. You chose something else. And that’s okay. Jess, I am so proud of you and Livie. I don’t want you to ever give up your lives just for some scruffy Brooklyn bar. Where is all of this coming from?”

  “When I first started talking to Alex online, before I knew it was him, one of the things we had in common was our family business. He wasn’t working as a re
porter because he had to work for his family instead. It made me worry about you, if maybe we were doing the same thing to you.”

  “Well, you’re not, so quit worrying about it. But Alex...his family business?”

  “Drake Media.”

  “Hmmm. That’s a lot different than a crummy bar.”

  “He hates it. And it changes him. Whenever he has to deal with Drake Media, he becomes this entire other person.”

  “And I’m guessing you don’t like that guy as much?”

  “It’s not that. It’s just...” Jess trailed off, trying to find the right words. “As long as I’ve known Alex, when I looked at him, I couldn’t see how someone like him could ever fit with someone like me. When I got to know him...the real him...we turned out to be perfect together. But that guy who I used to think was so different? So out of my reach? That’s the Drake Media guy. And I’m worried that I don’t fit with that guy.”

  “Did he make you feel that way?”

  No. No, he never had. Because he accepted and adored her just as she was. She was the one demanding that he change to suit her.

  “No,” she finally said, feeling shaken and miserable. “Not at all. But his dad wants to send him to Brazil and last night I freaked out about it.”

  “Freaked out how?”

  Saying the words out loud drove home just how wrong she’d been. “I basically told him it was Brazil or me.”

  Gemma flinched. “Ouch. Ultimatums aren’t good.”

  “I know, I know. I’m such an idiot, me and my stupid principles.”

  “Your principles are great. They make you fight for what you love. You love this guy, right?”

  A couple of days ago, she thought she was falling in love with Alex. Now, after she’d walked away from him, she was one hundred percent certain she was in love with him. And it sucked. “Yeah, I do.”

  “Then you’ll figure it out. Just...” Gemma paused, figuring out what she wanted to say. “Don’t give in all the way, okay? Because, ultimatum aside, it sounds like you were fighting for him as much as you were fighting for yourself and your principles.”