Unwritten (The Unspoken Series Book 1)

by M. C. Decker

I woke up around nine, sleeping in a few extra hours, and made my way to the kitchen where I turned on the small TV I had placed on the counter. I flipped the station to the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade just as Snoopy was making his way through the crowd.

  Feeling a silent tear rolling down my cheek, I thought about watching the several televised parades with my mom and dad every Thanksgiving morning. It would be different this year. It was just me.

  I decided a few days before that I was still going to make the most of it. I had bought myself a small turkey and planned to prepare the traditional fixings. I even bought the ingredients needed to bake a pumpkin spice pie for dessert.

  I had just removed the slimy, nasty innards of my bird when I heard a knock on my door. I quickly rinsed my hands in some hot water and wiped them on the back of my jeans before seeing who was there. My mind drifted momentarily, as I wondered who would be at my door at this hour of the morning on Thanksgiving.

  My thoughts immediately centered on Rich. After all, he had managed to get by Roger, my doorman, on other occasions. Ugh, why do I keep going there? Truth be told, I hadn’t heard from Rich in over a week, and I missed him. He hadn’t called, texted or even e-mailed an intra-office memo. My head returned to the here and now, when I heard another knock, although a bit louder this time.

  “Coming,” I hollered, while scurrying to the door.

  Before opening the door, I looked through the peephole, but was surprised when I didn’t see Rich on the other side. Actually, I wasn’t sure who stood there because all I could see was my Black Friday article cut out of the paper in the shape of a turkey. Perplexed for a minute, I heard two, girly giggles coming from the hallway. I swung the door open and before I could utter a word, Kaitlyn was jumping in my arms, with her mom not far behind.

  “Surprise,” they both shouted in unison.

  “Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh, I can’t believe you two are here!” I gushed.

  “We wanted to surprise you!” My best friend exclaimed.

  “I missed you, Aunt Brookie!”

  “Aw, I missed you too, Princess. I’m so glad you and your mommy are here. … But, how?” I said, directing my question to Cassidy.

  “Well, your old man helped a little. He wanted to come too, but I kind of sprung this on him at the last minute and he’d already made plans with his lady friend.”

  “I’m sorry; did you just say that my father has a lady friend?” I replied.

  “Ummmm, maybe? But that story is for another time. Right now, you’re going to tell me where the effin’ toilet is because this momma has got to pee.”

  Cassidy helped me prepare the rest of our Thanksgiving dinner, and the three of us enjoyed our meal along with stories from the last few weeks. I hadn’t realized how much I had missed these two until they were right there with me.

  Kaitlyn fell asleep on her mom’s lap while we were watching the annual showing of The Wizard of Oz. After the movie, I offered to put Kaitlyn to bed in the guest bedroom while Cass finished up the rest of the dishes. I read a groggy Kaitlyn a bedtime story and tucked her in, snug-as-a-bug-in-a-rug, before heading back into the living room, ready for an inquisition.

  “OK, I can tell you’ve had something on your mind all day,” I said, as I entered the room. “Let me have it.”

  “OK, I’ll cut right to the chase,” agreed Cass, “but only after I devour another piece of that scrumptious pumpkin pie.”

  “Seriously, how do you stay so damn skinny? You’ve even had a baby! It’s so not fair.” I complained – only half-jokingly.

  “Whatever, are you having another piece with me, or what?” She asked casually.

  “Well, that’s just a silly question. Cut the damn pie!”

  We plopped down on the couch ready to gobble down the pie with heaps of whipped cream, when Cass began to grill me.

  “How are things going with Rich?” she asked.

  “Honestly, not well. He’s been gone the last few days and when he left we weren’t even really on speaking terms. He punished me with that stupid Black Friday assignment because I won’t be with him and I let him have it. Then he left to work on one of his own assignments.”

  “Brookie, you know I love you, but why are you fighting this with him? I think you’re making a huge mistake. I was never really Rich’s number one fan, but I know you cared for him and it’s obvious that he did and still does care for you, too.”

  “I’m not … I mean … I can’t be … interested. I love my job. I’ve followed my dreams and I’m so proud of myself for that. Rich wasn’t part of my dreams, Cass – not my current dreams, anyways. He was nothing, but a distant memory. I can’t jeopardize my career for a relationship with Rich. It would more than likely fail, and then I would have to quit in order to avoid the drama. It’s simply not worth it.”

  “If you say so, Brooke, but it sounds to me like you’re trying to convince yourself. Just remember, he’s not going to wait around forever. Don’t let him slip away from you, again. I think you’ll regret it someday,” my best friend warned.

  “I’ll think about it, Cass. But, I really think I just need to concentrate on my work right now,” I said. “Now on to other topics … tell me about this lady friend of my father’s?”

  “Um, you should ask him about that, Brooke. It’s not my story to tell.”

  The White House staff was much more helpful when it came to arranging the appropriate contacts for my story on the White House Christmas tree. They really made a big deal about this “Blue Room Christmas Tree.” I was ecstatic to finally be doing a story with White House personnel, maybe even with the first lady, even though it was just about a decorated tree. It was the freakin’ first lady. Isn’t that every journalist’s dream? I finally made it!

  I mean, sure, I’d love to interview the president about his upcoming healthcare bill, but I need to take baby steps. I just set foot in Washington D.C. and I had already made it onto the White House’s list of media contacts. I’d say I’d done quite nicely. Cass wasn’t around to give me my standard pep talk and “Way to go, Brooke,” so I was left with giving myself a pat on the back.

  After all, Rich wasn’t about to do it. He’d been a little cold toward me since he returned from his business trip after Thanksgiving. Sure, we talked every morning, but it was all business. He would meet with the staff to go over our weekly assignments and dismiss me with the rest of them without even making any friendly small talk.

  Rich was giving me exactly what I wanted, but it still hurt. I thought a lot about what Cass said when she visited over Thanksgiving, but I just couldn’t go through with it. Rich and I couldn’t be anything more than just colleagues. Besides, I even had my suspicions that he was dating Janine – you know the much-too-perky, big-breasted bimbo from reception. I didn’t really have proof of that, yet, though. I was just relying on my womanly intuition.

  After scheduling my interview with White House personnel and giving myself that proverbial pat on the back, I hung up the phone and decided I would go share my good news with Rich. I was hoping he would at least be pleased, if not for me, for the Post. It would be a good feature story, anyways. Besides, I had to get the green light for a photographer to accompany me on the assignment.

  I ran straight from my office right into Rich’s, without stopping to knock. I realized as I barged into his office unannounced that he wasn’t alone. Sure as shit, there sat Janine rather cozily, on the edge of Rich’s desk, as he stood over her reading a memo that she had brought up from downstairs. Score one for womanly intuition.

  I took a few steps back and knocked on the door to announce my presence.

  “Uh, Rich, I don’t mean to interrupt, but I’d like to talk with you about this assignment.”

  “Sure, we’re done here, come take a seat, Brooke,” he said, as he pointed to one of his office chairs.

  “Janine, thanks for your help with … that matter. I look forward to your further assistance,” he said as she sashayed out of his office. His eyes stay
ed locked on her ass until she giggled and closed the door behind her.

  I took my seat and cleared my throat, hoping to ease the tension that I felt building in the air.

  “What can I help you with, Miss Anderson?”

  “Are you two dating, or just fucking?” I couldn’t stop the question, slipping from my lips. I lowered my head and covered it with my hand just as I realized what I’d asked Rich – my boss.

  I heard Rich chuckle before answering, “What I do in my personal life really isn’t any of your concern, now is it, Brooke? If I didn’t know any better, I would think you are a little jealous. You, however, have made it perfectly clear, on more than one occasion, that you aren’t interested. So, if you don’t mind, I’d rather just discuss this article of yours. I mean, correct me if I’m wrong, but isn’t that the reason you just barged into my office unannounced?”

  I stood there with my mouth agape, yet again, not prepared for Rich’s response to my sudden verbal diarrhea.

  “Cat got your tongue, Miss Anderson? I don’t think I’ve ever left the infamous Babbling Brooke speechless. This is one for the record books.”

  Yep, there he was – the Rich I first met all those years ago. Call him what you want, Hotty McAsshole, or Douche Monkey Davis. He was back and in full force. There was no denying the tears that I was trying to hold back. I missed Rich – my Rich. The intense, yet caring man, I had come to know.

  I quickly blotted my eyes, hoping Rich wouldn’t notice the lone tear escaping down my cheek. I didn’t want him to know that he was affecting me this way – again.

  “You’re right, Rich, I apologize. Who you see in your personal life is none of my business. I just came in here to tell you, I will be meeting with White House staff tomorrow to discuss the infamous Christmas tree. I may even have the opportunity to interview the first lady. I was told I could bring a photographer along and I was wondering if you knew who might be available around one o’clock to accompany me, that’s all.”

  “That’s fantastic, Brooke – nice job. I never doubted you, though. And, of course, I will be sure that one of our best photographers will attend the interview with you. Now, if that’s all, I have some pressing business I must attend to.”

  “Yes, that’s all, but …”

  “But, what, Brooke?”

  “Nevermind, thanks again, Rich.” I wanted to tell him in that moment that I was having a change of heart; I didn’t want him seeing Janine, or whatever he was doing with her, but I just couldn’t. It wasn’t the right time, and it probably wouldn’t ever be. I just had to focus my energy on my job.

  Forget about Rich, you’re interviewing the friggin’ first lady tomorrow! Easier said than done, brain, easier said than done.

  My first month at the Post had come and gone. I was happy with my job performance, and Rich seemed to be as well. He even had assigned me a fair number of more serious articles to cover. Ever since I made my way into the White House, even though he was trying to sabotage me with fluff, he knew I was an asset to his editorial team. After all, he was a talented journalist and an even more talented editor, and he wanted his best reporters working on the hardest news.

  So, since that day before Thanksgiving when I threw a temper tantrum in his office, he was only assigning me hard news assignments. The most recent one I covered was regarding the billions of dollars that the Internal Revenue Service had lost in fraudulent tax refunds to identity thieves.

  Chills ran up and down my spine when I saw my article in print that day. I ran my finger across the inky paper, just like I told Cass I would do all those years ago. The byline read: Brooke Anderson; Washington Post staff writer and the article appeared on the front page above the fold. I was the star of that day’s paper and I couldn’t have felt more gratified.

  As I perused that day’s paper, I heard knocking on my office door.

  Looking up, I saw Rich standing in the doorway, “Penny for your thoughts, Miss Anderson?”

  “Oh, hey, Rich. I didn’t even see you walk up. Sorry, I just can’t believe that I finally have the main story on the cover of the Post. Do you know how many people are going to read my work?”

  He chuckled before answering, “Yes, Brooke. Actually, if you’re looking for a number, it’s probably near a half million. That’s not why I came to see you, though. I would like you to accompany me on a business trip to New York City. I’m working on a story out there and I think you would be the perfect addition to my byline. We always worked so well together in college that I thought the dynamic duo could give it another go. What do you say?”

  “Are you asking me, Rich, or are you telling me that I’m going?” I asked.

  “Well, you’re right. I am your boss and I am requesting your presence. I would rather you go willingly, not that I am opposed to handcuffing you and dragging you screaming onto that plane,” he said with that all-too-familiar, sly smirk of his.

  “You won’t need the handcuffs, Rich. I will go on the trip with you, but it’s ALL business,” I reminded him.

  “Yes, Brooke. Sadly, I know all your rules. Now go home and pack your bags. We leave later this evening,” he said in his most authoritative voice.

  “SERIOUSLY?” I asked him wide-eyed. He simply nodded a yes in response. “Crap, OK, I have so much to do!”

  I caught a cab home and immediately began throwing some of my clothes in a suitcase. I didn’t even know what I’d need to wear, or how long we were going to be gone. I probably should have asked Rich for those details before I hurried out of the office.

  Oh well, I guess I would just have to wing it this time. I threw in some business-casual items, a pair of skinny jeans, a few sweaters, sweatshirts and my favorite little, black dress. I could also hear Cassidy’s nagging voice in my head as I threw in a few lacy panties and bra sets. Definitely not for Rich … what if I ran into George Clooney while I was in the city? After all, didn’t I just read in my trashy magazine (don’t judge, old habits are hard to break) that he was single again?

  Just as I was drooling over Clooney, I heard a knock on my front door. I looked out my peephole to see Roger standing on the other side.

  “Hello, Roger,” I greeted, as I opened the door.

  “Hello, Miss Anderson. There is an airport limousine waiting for you outside. Would you like assistance with your bags?”

  “Oh yes, thank you, Roger,” I responded.

  Roger rolled my suitcase out the door as I pulled on my puffy, pink coat and grabbed my carry-on bag. I was just slipping on my gloves when I saw Rich exit the back of the limo to assist Roger with my bag.

  “Brooke, you look gorgeous tonight, as always.”

  “Thanks, but I’m wearing my comfy, flying clothes, Rich. I’d hardly call yoga pants and a sweatshirt – gorgeous.”

  “In my eyes, Brooke, you are ALWAYS gorgeous,” he said with emphasis.

  “And, you, BOSS – are ALWAYS a flirt. Now, don’t we have a plane to catch?” I asked with a quick, and somewhat, flirty wink.

  We boarded the first class section of the plane and were waiting for the captain to signal for takeoff, when Rich noticed my jittering knees and legs beside his.

  “Are you OK?” he asked.

  “Yes, I’ll be fine. I just hate flying. I do this every time. I’ll be OK once we’re in the air. Sorry if I’m making you uncomfortable. Cass hates flying with me because of it,” I replied.

  “Don’t be silly. I love having you by my side. So, any place you want to see while we’re in the city? We have some downtime while we’re waiting for our interviews that I’ve already scheduled.”

  “Oh, I haven’t really thought much about it. Someone decided to spring this on me pretty last minute. I’m a bit embarrassed to admit this, but I’ve actually never been to New York City,” I replied sheepishly.

  “What?!?!” Rich exclaimed, with a dumbfounded look on his face.

  “Really, NYC virgin right here,” I confessed.

  “First I got to pop your tequila cherry
all of those years ago, then your boobgasm cherry and now you’re NYC cherry, huh? I’m such a lucky guy.” And, there was that damn wink again.

  I ignored his previous comment and continued, “I would like to see all of the ‘must sees’ I suppose. Although, I didn’t have time to buy a Frommer’s guide before I left, I’d imagine it would tell me to visit Central Park, Times Square, the Empire State Building … Oh – and the Christmas tree at Rockefeller Center!”

  “You and that stupid Frommer’s guide! Don’t worry; with me as your guide, you won’t need that damn book. Did I steer you wrong in D.C.? Those are some great places that you’ve mentioned. I have a few others in mind as well,” Rich said.

  Before I knew it, the plane had already leveled out and I had missed takeoff all together, once again.

  “You were distracting me, weren’t you?” I asked.

  “Maybe, did it work?”

  “Yes, thanks, Rich,” I managed to get out, through the yawn that escaped me.

  “You tired? Why don’t you take a nap? I’ll wake you when it’s time to land,” he promised.

  After what was probably just a few minutes, sleep overtook me. I dreamt of Rich and the amazing sex we shared all those months ago. I woke up awhile later with Rich stroking the top of my head. Crap, I fell asleep with my head on his shoulder. Oh my god! What if I drooled on him!

  Rich must have noticed the sudden terrified expression on my face.

  “What is it, Brooke? Something wrong? You looked so happy and content while you were sleeping – and now you just look petrified.”

  “I didn’t drool on you, did I?” I asked worriedly.

  Rich broke into a full-out, belly laugh. “That’s what’s got you so scared? No, of course not, Brooke – just relax. We’ll be landing in just a few minutes.”

  We had a driver waiting for us outside of JFK. Rich wouldn’t tell me where we were staying. The only hint he shared was that it was someplace in Manhattan. Never having been to the city before, this little piece of information didn’t mean much to me.