by Tia Lewis
"I actually know his number," I said and drew the phone closer. I dialed his mobile number and waited for him to answer.
"Chef Adrian is not available now. Can you call him later?" a woman's voice answered. I recognized it as one of his sous chef's.
"Hi, Lola. It's Dylan. Tell Adrian it is very important I speak with him."
"Have you finally knocked up one of those girls you seem to always have around you?"
"Lola, stop fooling around. I haven't knocked anyone up," I said and looked toward Paula who was now staring at me. "Could you just get Adrian? And what are you doing with his mobile phone?"
"None of your business," she replied to me, and I heard her call to my cousin.
"He's here."
The next voice I heard was Adrian's. "Cuz!"
"Adrian! What's up?"
"I'm good. What's this about you knocking somebody up?"
"Adrian, I haven't knocked anyone up. What I need is a table at your restaurant for someone. Table for two."
"Dylan, the whole place is booked up today from what I hear. And since when did you start flaunting the fact that you're buddies with the chef? This one must be pretty special."
"Adrian, I'm flaunting nothing. My boss and her husband love your restaurant, and they want a table to celebrate their wedding anniversary. So could you please whip something up? I'm sure you can do something. It's quite important."
"Oh. Your boss. That's important. We don't want you any broker than you are now and if you lose your job, that's what'd happen. I see what this is. Buttering the boss so she can go easy and not fire your ass. I thought you didn't like to kiss ass."
"Adrian, remind me to kill you when I see you. That's not what this is." I said into the phone and hoped Paula didn't ask what this was. "Are we game?"
"Yeah sure, man. Anytime. I'll do something for her. Have them come in by 8."
"Oh, thanks, man. I appreciate."
"Anytime cuz. Now you owe me one."
"Whatever man," I said and ended the call. I turned to Paula immediately. "He says he can help. Your reservation is for 8."
"Oh my God! That's great. I really appreciate this."
"You're welcome. I'm glad I could help."
"So what did you want to see me for?"
"I…um…I came to pitch a story to you. Something that means a lot and I want to work on."
"Okay and that is? Oh, can I add that I won't be letting my judgment be clouded by the favor you just did me? The favor is personal. This is work. Okay? I just had to clear the air."
"Sure. I wasn't trying to kiss ass with the favor. I just genuinely felt the need to help. Which is why I want to write this story; because I know it can help a lot of people. What's your take on hookers?"
Paula looked at me as if I have gone mad. I was expecting that reaction. So I continued to speak. "Your reaction just now is the same as that of so many other people. Some even go to the extent of immediately demeaning these women. They feel they're up to no good and they're a worthless group who do it just because they want to be promiscuous or something like that. What if I told you there is more to them than meets the eye? What if I said that some of these ladies are in this line of work because they feel they've no choice? Because it's the only thing they know?"
"I wouldn't be surprised."
"You wouldn't be. A lot of others would be. People see the smile on the outside and feel they know everyone's story. That they can instantly tell the person's life history just because they stand on the streets, selling their bodies for money."
"So you're on some crusader's mission to fight for hookers?"
"No. I am on a mission to help people with my pen. Help people see that there's more to them than just their profession. That they can be something other than just hookers. That they can be great in life. And also to tell whoever cares to read amongst these hookers that their lives don't have to be just like that. That they can aspire to do more, see more…be more."
"Hmm. Sounds good. But how do you plan to do that? Just with your words? I don't think you would be making that much of an impact since you don't lead that life. Or, do you?"
"With my pen and the words of someone who led that kind of life."
"Led?"
"She used to be a hooker. Now she's thinking of going back."
"Why did she stop initially?"
"Because she went through what a lot of them go through, but most of us fail to sympathize with them over. She was almost gang-raped."
"Dear Lord! And she wants to go back why?"
"Because she needs to pay her tuition fees," I replied.
"Tuition, I don't understand."
"She now goes to Stanford."
"This gets more interesting. A Stanford hooker."
"Exactly. She is just the voice the other girls need to motivate them to do more with their lives."
"I love the way this sounds already. You're doing an expose on hookers."
"Not really. I am working with just one person. The one who goes to Stanford. I'm thinking of the by-line being 'The secret life of a Stanford Hooker'. That is if you approve of course."
"Hmm. That by-line doesn't cover it all, but we will work on that much later. We need you to get started immediately."
"Does this mean…" I started to ask, but she interrupted.
"I approve? The hell it does. I love it already. But I'm thinking of it as more than just a story about one person. I'm looking at meeting other people like her and talking about it. She's close to her happy ending. She's in school already. But what about those who can't get into school? What happens to them?" she said and jumped out of her chair. She started to pace her side of the room as she spoke.
"This is wonderful, Dylan. Why didn't you think of something like this before? The warning geared you up, didn't it? Can I meet with this Stanford hooker?"
"Huh, I don't think she'll want to. I spoke to her already, and she only agreed to do this if her anonymity is guaranteed."
"She doesn't even want to meet with your boss?"
"No, she doesn't. If one person knows her, there's a very high chance someone else will, and that's how the numbers keep increasing. She doesn't want to risk that."
"Oh."
"But if you're worried about if she actually exists, I could bring you recordings and screenshots of our messages and what not. It's quite important to her that her identity is not known. Other than the fact that there is her school, I have a feeling that she is running from something more."
"Something more? Like what?"
"I have no idea what that could be, but I could feel it when we were speaking yesterday. It doesn't strike me as normal for her not to take student loans or grants. Like if her name were in the system, it'd affect her somehow. I don't know for sure, but with this prostitution ring, she might be running from a pimp or something. Or maybe even those guys that tried to hurt her."
"Well, that's a possibility, but I don't think that should make her so scared. Her story is about to be printed in one of the biggest magazines in the country."
"Which is exactly why she should be scared. People might want to shut her up. The article might expose them."
"We're getting ahead of ourselves here. Let's do it this way. You continue to interview her. Start your story with her. Have regular meetings and what not. I don't need to see pictures or listen to recordings. I want to trust that you wouldn't be making this up in a desperate attempt to salvage what is left of your career."
I cringed on the inside as the shade she just sent my way hit home. I didn't say a word. She was right about one thing. My career was as good as dead. Or rather was. Now there was hope for it.
"We need to work on a direction for the story. I don't know yet, but I feel we can do something more with this golden opportunity. I can't think straight right now because I am excited about dinner and also about this story, but I will think about it and develop something tonight."
"Don't you have dinner with your husband tonigh
t?"
"Oh right. I almost forgot again. Thanks for that."
"You're welcome. Please take your time. We don't want you thinking about work when you're supposed to be apologizing over dinner."
"Right again. But whatever the case may be, we'll find a way around it. This is a great story. Maybe even cover story material. I can feel it!"
"That would be great!" I said, almost breathlessly. My excitement had nearly knocked the wind out of me.
Paula went back to her chair and wore a really serious look. How she could manage to switch from very excitable to serious always baffled me.
"Dylan, this is a wonderful idea you brought to me. I'm in love with this story already. But this is just the idea of the story. Imagine what it would be like to read the story, and it's actually as wonderful as the idea of it. If this story is going to be a cover story, I need you to put your all into it. I need you to work at this like your life depends on it.
"Your life actually depends on it because your job is hanging by a thread here, if I'm honest. We need you to be at your best here. I would go on a limb and tell you that we will cover a reasonable part of your expenses for this project. I just want to ask you for one favor."
"Which is?"
"Don't fucking mess this up, Dylan. I've seen some of the things you have written in the past. They are the only reason you're still here. I could have fired you the minute I got here and saw your fuck ups. I don't know what happened to you in between, but you need to get back to that journalist you used to be. So again I say this, Dylan, don't fucking mess this up."
8
Dylan
I walked out of Paula's office with mixed feelings. A part of me was glad and grateful for the fact that I didn't meet a strong wall when I approached Paula, but I was also terrified as hell by her last warning to me. Don't fucking mess this up, she had said. The tone with which she said it was enough to put the fear of God in me. I wouldn't want to even try to mess this up. All I have to do now is to call Alexa and let her know we were on.
"Dyl…what's up?" Chris called from behind me. I had apparently been so lost in thoughts; I didn't know when I passed his cubicle.
"Chris, I'm sorry. I was lost in thought." I replied to him and walked back to his cubicle.
"That bad, huh? I thought we worked on it and made it perfect. I wasn't expecting her to rip you apart so much so that you would lose your own bearing. I'm sorry man. I really am."
"What?" I asked totally confused by his mutterings.
"I said I was sorry."
"About what? Paula approved the story."
"Oh!" Chris exclaimed. "That's great! I was so scared with the way you were behaving. I thought she had kicked you out, maybe even fired your ass or something. You scared me, man."
"Why in the world would you think she was going to fire me? Wait, was that a possibility?"
"Yup," Chris said with a straight face.
"One you didn't deem fit to tell me before I went in there feeling like I owned the world?"
"In my defense," Chris started to say, "It was for your own good. I didn't want you going in there and doubting yourself. It would've been a great blow to whatever it is you wanted to say. But look on the bright side, she didn't fire you, and she approved the project."
"I can't believe you didn't tell me!"
"Don't tell me the chances didn't cross your mind, buddy. You would've thought of it too. So how did she react?"
"It was quite surprising. She totally loved the idea. I could read it on her face and the way she reacted when I explained to her in detail. She wasn't faking it or anything like that. I hit pay dirt man."
"It seems my dear friend that you have forgotten who we are talking about. Why in the world would Paula have to pretend she likes your idea when she doesn't?"
"I could have sworn despite her warning that she agreed to this because of the reservation I got her. But the excitement was written all over her face so it can't be false."
"Reservation? You've lost me, bro."
"She was in the middle of reserving a table at Four Points when I walked into her office. They were apparently all booked, so I had to call Adrian."
"Your cousin Adrian? Seriously man, what's that? I've been trying to get you to call Adrian for me for a whole year, and you didn't because you, in your words, 'don't like to owe favors.' Now you do it for Paula?"
"To be very honest, you aren't as important to me as Paula is right now."
"What are you trying to say?"
"Go figure," I replied. "But away from all of my issues, I got to thinking about Paula while I was in there."
"Nah, fam. You can't possibly be thinking of hitting on her. She's not only your boss, but she's also your actual boss' wife."
"What nonsense are you talking about, Chris? I wasn't talking about hitting on her, you fucking idiot. What's the deal with her? She's married to the man who bought the publishing house and everything else involved. Including this magazine. Why would she chose to be the editor and not the CEO?"
"Because we used to write really crappy shit?"
"Chris. Be serious man."
"How in the world am I supposed to know? I don't hang out with them. I did hear someone say something about her wanting to be close to all of the action again. Something about her working in the media before she came here for the interim job. Her husband runs it so it still pretty much feels like the same thing to me."
"So she's just working here based on a whim?"
"No, she's working here to straighten us up until they can find a better replacement. Let's face facts. We needed someone like her on board for us to grow. We were beginning to suck. Our competitors were starting to have an edge over us. In the past three months, the numbers have started working in our favor again."
"Whatever you say pal. I'm going to give Alexa a call. Paula says we should start immediately."
"That's great man. I really am happy for you."
"I am happy for me, too," I said and headed toward my own cubicle.
As I settled into my seat, it crossed my mind that I ought to send a text, an email—anything to Paula to remind her that she was supposed to be meeting her husband at the airport this afternoon. I snatched up my phone from the table when I realized that even though my intentions were genuine, I would come across as trying too hard. Apparently, being a workaholic and a perfectionist could be quite a terrible combination. I dropped my phone back on the table and pushed the thought to the back of my mind, replacing it with the thought that Paula should actually fire her secretary/personal assistant. What good is she if she can't remind her boss of the simple things like this? I should recommend Suits, the series to this secretary. She had a lot to learn from Donna. I can't be worrying about other people's problems while I leave mine unattended. I had tasks to do. Like, meet up with Alexa.
I mentally slapped the back of my head when I remembered that is exactly what I was going to do before Chris called me into his cubicle. How could I have forgotten?
This was what Paula was talking about. I am about to start messing shit up without even trying. I tried to remember where I put the phone number Alexa gave me, but nothing came to mind. She had written it down on a sheet of paper, that I remembered. But everything after that moment was a complete blur.
I pulled out my wallet and rummaged through the contents to find it, but there was no piece of paper with any number written on it inside my wallet. Fortunately, I was still wearing the pants I wore yesterday when I met her. It didn't seem like a wise idea to just waste all that money on a hotel room and not use it. So, when Alexa took a cab home, I went back to the hotel and spent the night there. I just took my bath this morning, put on the same clothes and headed to the office.
I jumped off the chair and started to empty the contents of my pockets.
Unfortunately, my pocket was filled with a lot of small sheets, and I had to go through the long process of painstakingly checking every single one of the small pieces I was able to
salvage from my pocket. One sheet of paper had numbers on it, but just when I was about to start rejoicing, I saw the name scribbled in very small letters just under it. I hissed and tossed the paper into the bin. That was not Alexa. At the end of the day, I found nothing that looks like Alexa's phone number.
Sucking in a deep breath, I tried to calm down and not freak out by the fact that I had most likely lost the phone number of the girl that was supposed to resurrect my career; a girl I had no idea who her friends were. Someone I don't even have a clue what her surname was. How in the world was I supposed to find her? As I straightened up out of my chair, I saw Paula walking in my direction, and my heart started to thud loudly in my chest. What was I supposed to tell her? I cursed my ill luck. Why was it now of all the time in the world that I chose to stand up?
"Dylan?" she called as she reached to my cubicle.
"Hi, Paula."
"Hi. I thought you would be out with your source already. Why're you still here?"
"We agreed to meet up much later." I lied. I couldn't afford anything but the lie.
"Oh, Okay. I saw you from all the way over there, and I thought to thank you again for your help. I really do appreciate it."
"You're welcome, Paula. Headed to the airport to pick up your husband?"
"As a matter of fact, yes. He arrives sometime around 3. So do we ask for this Adrian person when we get there, or we just give them our names?"
"Your name. I'll call Adrian to confirm everything, but you can rest assured that your reservations have been settled. I was actually going to send you mail or text to remind you not to forget you are supposed to be picking up your husband."
Paula chuckled. "Very funny, Dylan. Very funny. I don't forget every time. I should get going now, though, if I don't want to be late."
"Yeah, sure. You guys should have fun. And make sure you do a lot of work getting him to forgive you."
"Oh, I do plan on that. Have fun with your source," she said, and I swallowed.
"Yeah, right. Have a great night," I said and watched her saunter out of the office.