The Most Beautiful Girl in Cuba - Chanel Cleeton Page 0,29
reputation too scandalous.
“You don’t like me very much, do you?” he asks, his tone mild.
“I hardly know you well enough to dislike you. I’m sure that’ll take another month of acquaintance, at least,” I joke.
A smile tugs at his lips. “You surprise me, you know.”
“How so?”
“I can only guess why you don’t approve of me, but I would have thought your derision would extend to Will. Doesn’t most of your set look down their noses at him? Why would someone like you want to write for the Journal?”
Hearst’s exploits are notorious, his reputation for being far more at home with the common man than the Four Hundred an anomaly on an otherwise distinguished pedigree. And still, I have to admit whatever my impression of him prior to working at the Journal, Hearst has surprised me. Despite his reputation, and the trouble he might get up to in his extracurricular time, he is professional and fair with his staff.
“Mr. Hearst is not what I expected,” I admit, sidestepping his latter question about my motives for joining the Journal.
“True. Will is nothing if not unique.”
The genuine affection in his voice catches me off guard. I had assumed their friendship was limited to similar interests—whiskey, and women, and general debauchery, and perhaps a shared utility when it comes to Cuba. The protective note in his words suggests something else altogether.
“And how do you like working for Will?” Rafael asks. “He’s a force to be reckoned with, that’s for sure. Some people admire that about him. Others fear it.”
“We come from the same place, and yet, I heard what everyone said about him—that he eschewed society for hanging out with the people—and figured it must be part of his persona, a way to endear himself to the masses, to increase his circulation. But he seems to genuinely embrace change. Is that why you’re friends? Because you’re both looking to shake things up?”
He laughs. “You have a delightful way of deflecting questions and turning them right back around so the focus is on the questioner and not yourself. Is that a prerequisite to becoming a journalist or a particular skill you’ve cultivated?”
“I suppose I could ask you the same thing, considering you do it as often as I do.”
“Touché. I wasn’t born with the same advantages Will was. I’m not sure polite society would have me if they truly knew where I come from. My money—now that’s another matter entirely.”
“I’m surprised you say that. In my experience, money gives people the ability to reshape the world as they see fit.”
“The world perhaps. Not Caroline Astor and her Four Hundred.”
“I wouldn’t think you’d give a fig about all that.” I lean in closer to him, my voice dropping to a whisper, not quite unconvinced Caroline Astor doesn’t have ears in every corner of New York. “They’re not that fun, really. The parties, I mean.” I pause for a moment, anticipating a bolt of lightning to come down from the heavens. In this insular world, Mrs. Astor might as well be a god.
“I’m beginning to see that.” His gaze sweeps across the ballroom once more. “Although, I suppose it’s more a matter of wanting what you cannot have.”
“It can be frustrating to have doors closed to you, to always have to prove yourself, to never have a chance to be judged on your own merits,” I agree.
“I thought you might be able to understand, given the way you handled yourself in Will’s office. You aren’t afraid to push the doors open.” He smiles. “See, you’re already an excellent journalist. You’ve mastered the skill of getting your interview subject to spill their secrets.”
“The sort of secrets you possess would likely make a lady blush.”
“Perhaps. I’d imagine it depends on the lady, though. You don’t seem one for blushing. Not in a job like this.”
“You do realize, when you say ‘job like this,’ you sound positively like Mrs. Astor.”
His laugh fills the air. “You’ve got me. I’ve never been one for reporters.”
“And yet you’re friends with a publisher. And not just any publisher, the most notorious one in the city.”
“True. I suppose there is an exception to every rule. And if you’re going to break a rule, you really should do so thoroughly.”
“Why the aversion to newspapers?”
“It seems a bit like vultures picking over the bones of people’s lives. Think about the stories that litter the front page. They’re hardly testaments to the best and brightest parts of people’s affairs.”
“‘Best and brightest’? Now you sound like a romantic.”