The Rivals - Dylan Allen Page 0,212

riffle through for my things.

“Maybe, I saw Slugman come out of there just before she came here to find you.”

I hold up my crossed fingers and she returns the gesture with a smile. “You better get up there before she has to come back.”

I grab my notebook and pen and hustle out of the door.

“You wanted to see me?” I ask as I poke my head in Jules’ office.

“Yes, come in. I’ve never come to look for you in the morning. Are you always late?” She folds her arms across her chest and doesn’t hide the fact that she’s completely unimpressed with me. Her sharp gray eyes are like chips of steel and feel just as sharp as she trains them on me and waits for me to answer.

“No. Never. Today has been extraordinary in lots of ways. I’m sorry.” I hope my apology sounds sincere because it’s really not. In reality, I’m less than ten minutes “late.” Every other day, I’m in the office by 7:30 a.m.

Of course, the only day it actually matters, I’m late.

“The rest of the hiring committee wants to hire Jon Slugman instead of you.” She cuts straight to the chase.

My stomach falls like an elevator car cut loose from its cables. I clutch the notepad to steady my hands and fight the tears that sting the back of my eyes.

“Oh.” My voice is trapped in the panic clogging my throat. I clear it and try to look her in the eye.

“Can you tell me why?”

“Because he’s a man. This business is a boy’s club.” She says dispassionately.

“I see,” I whisper to my hands. That feels worse than knowing that I fell short somehow.

“Thank God money is mightier than sexism. And my husband has more of it than almost anyone. I write the checks around here. So, it’s my vote that counts,” she says in her cool silky way.

My head snaps up. I’m afraid to hope, but I clutch at the tiny ember of it she just threw my way. “And how are you voting?”

“He’s good.” She says and shrugs. My shoulders fall.

“I think you’re better.”

That ember roars to life.

“You do?” I gasp.

She nods.

“I detest tears,” she hands me a tissue and I dab at the tears I didn’t quite manage to stem.

“I’m sticking my neck out here, Kal. You need to show the rest of the editorial board that you’re the best person for the job.”

“How? If I haven’t managed to do that already—”

“You’ve written some great pieces. But you’re holding back. Dig deeper into the stories, find the human aspect. Give your audience some hope while you deliver the gloom of the story. You need to be twice as good as him. Bring your A-game.”

I thought I had been. But clearly not. I swallow a ball of disappointment.

“I’ll try harder.”

“You fucking better. I’m throwing you a big bone.” She steeples her hands under her chin and nods at my notebook.

I open it.

“I got a lead today and I think you’re the perfect person to pursue it. If you can bring it home, it would be the making of you.”

“Wow. Thank you. Your faith in me is—”

“Please, don’t prove it misguided,” she says with no warmth at all. “I’ve been waiting for a woman I could champion. You’re it. Do not let me down.”

“Okay.”

“If you don’t come back with this story, not only will you not get the producer’s position. You’re also not going to have this job anymore. We’re making cuts to junior staff and your current role is on the chopping block.”

“Tell me about the lead,” I say, getting straight to business. Getting fired isn’t an option. I need this job. If I lose it right now, I won’t be able to sell my place fast enough to keep us from losing everything. No, nothing will stop me.

“You’re from Houston, right?”

Surprise straightens my spine. “Yes. I mean… I haven’t lived there in over fifteen years, but yes.”

“Wonderful. There was this weird little news story out of there a couple months ago. A shooting. Gigi Rivers, oldest daughter of Houston’s founding family. She was the family’s black sheep. She’s lived in Italy for thirty years. Suddenly, she’s back in Houston and she wasn’t there very long before she was shot right outside the Riverses company headquarters.”

“Someone shot her?” I gasp. I remember that family. Remi told me their families were rivals.

“Yes.” She raises a scandalized eyebrow. “Word is, the bullet was meant for Hayes Rivers. The official story was that it was a