Chapter 9

I wasn't the first person to arrive at the paper on Monday. I had wheeled myself halfway to the statehouse when I remembered that I was planning on missing Krissy's show that morning. A guy from the Parkersburg Press had promised to tape it for me so that I wouldn't miss anything good. But I figured the story was just a little more important. Besides, I planned to be talking to Krissy later in the day.

So when I arrived at the Messenger, the lights were already on. Arriving at my cubicle, I booted up the computer to catch up on the world. The most recent e-mail was from Allie. The subject was "FWD: Rick Does BOFFO 'Box.'" I clicked on it and started blushing almost immediately.

Date: Sunday, May 24, 2008 22:03:45

To: Alison<ADColes@wvmessenger.com>
From: Angie<Act2B^~2B@yahoo.com>

I can't believe that you wanted me to tell you about last night while your BF was in the car. Like it's any of his frickin' business! So anyway, as promised, here's my review:

omg

OMFG!!!

What a studmuffin. I can't believe he's just your "friend." You are such a weirdo, big sister. Plus that line about him not dating is SUCH a crock. He must have girls in there every weekend. Otherwise there's no fucking way he'd be that good with his hands. And his arms. God, I've never met anyone who could do that. If filming didn't start this week I would have stayed there and let him fuck my brains out 'til I was dragged away!

Thanks again for letting me visit. I had a "ball." Particularly at the end, LOL! Kiss kiss.

Ang

p.s. if you don't mind forwarding this pic to him (from my "private portfolio," LOL), maybe he won't forget me.

I scrolled down and found a picture of Angie in a bikini made out of three pieces of fabric that if sewn together would not have made a decent-sized cocktail napkin. Her skin was covered with beads of moisture, her face wreathed in a smile that said "sex."

"Christ," I groaned.

I heard giggling from the cubicle next to mine.

"So'd ya get any this weekend?" Allie asked.

"Maybe," I said with a smile.

"What do you think of your review?"

"I think maybe you better learn how to forward an e-mail to one recipient rather than everyone on the intranet."

"Shit."

I smiled. She pounded her fist on her desk.

"Fuck. Rick, I'm so sorry."

"You might want to apologize to Angie," I said. "It's not necessarily a bad thing for me."

That became apparent a few minutes later when Dan arrived.

"Hando. Allie."

He grunted greetings to us as he passed. Allie and I listened to him turn on his computer.

"Hando!" he said after a few minutes.

"Dude!" he soon added, his voice taking on a slightly awed tone.

"Christ," he groaned a little later.

"Hey, pal," I said. "Keep your eyes to yourself."

"Christ," he repeated.

Rachel was the next person in and Allie made a beeline for her office. A few minutes later another e-mail popped up.

Alison Coles has apologized to me, and asked me to extend an apology to all of you, for the e-mail that she erroneously sent this morning to everyone on the staff. Her transmission is obviously the result of a lack of training on the new e-mail system and for that I take total responsibility. I will arrange additional training shortly. Meanwhile, please take into account the following instructions:

1. Anyone found downloading this picture to your hard drive or diskette will be discharged.

2. Anyone found forwarding Allie's e-mail to anyone outside the intranet will be discharged.

3. Anyone failing to tease Rick mercilessly will be shunned for a week. OMG!

Rachel :) :) :)

Pretty much everyone had followed the third instruction by ten o'clock. I could only hope, for Angie's sake, that they were as scrupulous in obeying the first two.

Even Bill McIntyre wore a grin when he gathered Rachel and I for a trip to the office of Gus Barton, the paper's editor-in-chief. I had only seen Mr. Barton at full staff meetings before now. He had always seemed serious and business-like. But he, too, couldn't keep a smile off his face.

"Mr. Handley," he said as he held out his hand. "I've heard a lot about you. Today in particular."

Rachel and Bill chuckled nervously.

"Yes, sir. We're talking about the story, sir?"

"The story. Sure. Let's get to that."

He had a few suggestions of his own, some of which I accepted and some of which I hesitantly challenged.

"Young man," he said, holding up his hand, "the paper may have my name on it, but this story will have yours. You have to be sure of everything that appears in it. Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir," I said. "In that case, I really didn't care for your suggestion on the second graph either."

We discussed it, though, and he convinced me that he was right. I could get used to this, I thought. This was real newspaper work.

After an hour we broke up, but at 3:30 we were gathered around his speaker phone. My first call was to Krissy Mackley.

"Hi, Rick," she said. "We missed you this morning."

"I missed you guys too," I lied. "Krissy, I wanted to give you a chance to comment on an article that's going to tomorrow's paper. You can probably tell that you're on speakerphone. I'm here with my editor, Rachel Langhorn."

And her editor and his editor as well.

"Hello, Miss Mackley," Rachel said.

"Hello," Krissy said. "So this is something serious?"

"You might say so," I answered. When I was finished explaining the story, the line was silent.

"Krissy?" I asked.

"Yes?" Her voice was trembling.

"Comment?"

"You guys can't print that!" she shrieked.

"No?" I asked. "What did I get wrong?"

"Umm, can I call you back?"

"We have two hours until we set it." Rachel was an even better liar than I was. We updated the paper as late as midnight. But that was for our purposes, not those of the Governor's office.

"Okay," Krissy squeaked.

She hung up and I put in a call to the Washington, D.C. lobbying firm of Talley & Associates. I expected Tricia Linney to be much more practiced than Krissy, no doubt because she was much better paid. I introduced myself and asked my first question.

"My first question, ma'am, is whether you traveled to Texas last May on an Amalgamated Coal Company airplane last May with West Virginia Governor Ed Platte?"

"What? No."

"You did not."

"Of course not."

I looked up at Rachel with a grin. The woman's denials were much too quick and too loud.

"I have a witness who puts you at the airport getting on the plane, ma'am."

"You're not seriously thinking of printing this shit in your paper, are you?"

"We are working on a story about the governor's dove-hunting trips, ma'am."

"Does your publisher know you're working on this?" she asked.

"My publisher, ma'am?" We all turned to Gus, who crossed his arms in front of his chest as he stared at the phone.

"Yes, Charlie Carson. Perhaps you should check with him, Mr ... I'm sorry, what was your name again?"

"Rick Handley, ma'am. Thank you for your advice. In the meantime, can you confirm that you went on the trip with Governor Platt last year?"

She hung up. Although we did hear an angry "fuck" just before the dial tone. So much for practice.

"Her next call's going to be to Mr. Carson," Rachel said to Bill and Gus.

"Good," Gus said. "Charlie loves getting calls like that. Lets him know we're earning all the money he's paying us."

"Should I put in that she denied it?" I asked.

He shook his head.

"Put in that when informed of the statement putting her on the plane, she refused to confirm or deny the allegation."

Krissy called back just before the deadline to tell us that she had been unable to get in touch with the Governor or her boss, his press secretary, on their vacation. She asked me were "sure" that we had to run the story tonight. I said I was afraid that we pretty much were. She sighed.

"In that case, you can say that the Governor's office denies the entire story."

"The whole story?" I asked. "Even the part that says that you guys have been foisting this duck-hunting story on us for the past five years when you knew full well he was in Texas?"

"I'm sorry," Krissy said. "You're going to have to wait until Joe gets back."

"Yeah, maybe not," Gus said after the call was over. "Page one, Bill. Upper right."

"Way ahead of you, boss," Bill said.

I was a little late getting to the statehouse on Tuesday morning. I had become so used to nights filled with adventure and romance that when I awoke on Tuesday after a full, dreamless night of sleep, I was a little put out.

As I should have guessed, the press office was packed. I was happy to see the desks filled with copies of the Messenger. One of my colleagues spotted me wheeling myself in, and the crowd parted as if I were actually somebody important. I found an aisle leading all the way up to the front of the room, right in front of Krissy's podium.

Krissy had no intention of addressing me. In fact, she refused to even look at me.

She announced that Pete Simpson would be cutting his vacation short and returning this afternoon to address the outrageous and unfounded allegations that had appeared in this morning's Messenger. We shouted questions at her without effect; she just turned and walked back to her office.

To read this story you need a Registration + Premier Membership
If you have an account, then please Log In or Register (Why register?)

Buy at Bookapy.com

What Feats He Did That Day

Marsh Alien

$3.99