It’s so fucking lame even I cringe when I look at it. I shouldn’t have even sent that. It’s insulting. I can’t believe I said that to her as she walked out of my office. Where did it even come from? She was defending herself, rightly criticizing me, and I couldn’t take it. I just fired something back to hurt her even more, kick her when she was down.
“Fuck!” I scream the word like a crazy person, right there on the corner. It suddenly becomes hard to breathe, now that I actually think about what I said, when I imagine her face as I said it.
Karli’s the strongest woman I’ve ever met, but she’s not bulletproof, no matter how hard she tries to appear that way. I couldn’t have cut her deeper than I did. I gasp for a breath and the oxygen won’t come. It’s like the whole world is crashing down on me at once, and I just sit there and take it, because I deserve every second.
I must look like a nutjob. It’s so bad an older woman stops and asks me if I’m okay. I stand there, gasping for breath, staring at her. It’s impossible to even speak.
“I’m going to call an ambulance.”
I just take off walking down a side street until I spot a wall next to a dumpster, out of sight from the world. I lean against it and just focus on trying to breathe.
I finally catch my breath and the world seems to go back to normal; as normal as it can be. I’m almost positive I just had a panic attack. I hope they don’t stop coming. They shouldn’t stop coming.
When I’m sure the old lady has gone away, I walk back out to wait and cross the street. I pull out my phone to see if Karli has responded, even though I know she hasn’t. The pedestrian light flashes, and I stand there, still unable to move. I just stand there like a moron through two lights, for a good five minutes, as people stream around each side of me flashing me dirty looks. I just want to see those three dots start bouncing, even if she calls me a piece of shit, unleashes hell on me.
My phone flashes a confirmation that she’s read it, but then there’s nothing.
Finally, I pocket my phone and seem to somewhat snap back into reality. The cold socks me in the face, like it had put itself on hold for a moment while I lost my shit.
My eyes roam, out to the distance, where Lake Michigan stretches on the horizon, then up the long street lined with skyscrapers. I shouldn’t feel like my life is over at this age. The opposite, in fact. Things should just be beginning for me, and I already ruined it.
I want to drive to Decker’s house and beat the shit out of him in his front yard, but when I look even further inward, I know it’s not his fault. Deep down in my soul, the place where truth resides within everyone, I know I’m the one to blame. I know this and yet my brain still tries to hide from that confrontation any chance it gets.
I could tell myself I did it to save my life professionally, deny any part I played, and I have attempted to tell myself that plenty. But it all really boils down to one thing. One thing that guided my actions this afternoon.
I’m in love with Karli Rains. And that scared the shit out of me.
There it is.
I let that fear sabotage the only thing I really care about.
Finally admitting the truth makes me want to run my face through the glass storefront on the building next to me, Billy Russo-style. How could I be so weak and stupid? Such a fucking pussy. What’s even worse is I don’t give a fuck how I look to myself or anyone else. It hurts so fucking bad, it makes me so goddamn mad I could scream, that Karli saw me like that. That she was the direct recipient of my shortcomings.
I need to do something. Whether she talks to me again or not, I need her to know that’s not who I am. Not anymore. Not since I met her.
For once, a rush of energy socks me in the chest. I know what I’m going to do, even if it lands me in a fucking jail cell.
I’m pretty sure I’m one step short of frost bite when this smarmy asshole reporter finally exits the building outside the newspaper.
It’s like eight pm, so at least there’s not much foot traffic around. Most of his coworkers have gone home for the day.
I don’t want to appear stalkerish, but it’s about to be pretty difficult to not come off that way.
He clicks the fob on his keyring and his headlights flash.
“Hey.”
He spins around, squinting like his eyes are trying to adjust to the night after being inside a bright building. “Can I help you?”
I nod. “Yeah, Matthew Graham from The Hunter Group.” I hold out a hand.
His eyes widen a little, but he reaches out and takes my hand. He’s at least a foot shorter than me and probably fifty pounds lighter, so it doesn’t surprise me when his handshake matches his stature. He looks like a damn caricature of a newspaper reporter, glasses and everything.
“What can I do for you, Mr. Graham?”
There’s no easy way to put this, so I just come out and say it. “I need to know where you got the information for your article today.”
He laughs. It’s an eyes-wide-open shocked laugh, until he sees the look on my face. He must not get that kind of request often.
He stops the second we make eye contact. “You can’t be serious.”
“I wish I weren’t.” I shrug and look around. “But here we are.”
“Look, I’m sorry about any turmoil at your firm or whatever, but I can’t reveal a source. And there’s no way I could not publish that story. It’s legitimate news.”
“I get all that.”
His eyes dance around like he might be worried for his safety. “Okay, so are we done here?”
I do my best to relax my posture so he doesn’t call the damn police, but I still need to get what I want. I shrug nonchalantly. “I wish we were.”
Now, he looks a little perturbed. “I don’t understand.”
I wait for the headlights of a car to flash past us. “I need to know where the information came from.”
“I would suggest interrogating the people who had access to it, or looking for clues elsewhere, because as I’ve said, I can’t reveal a…”
Fuck this, I don’t have time for it. I take two steps toward him.
His eyes get really big.
I keep my tone neutral. “I understand that, but I’m going to find out who gave you that scoop.” I look down my nose at him. “You’re going to tell me. Now, how we go about getting to that point… I’m willing to discuss that. But when you leave in that car, I’m going to have what I want.”
“This is ridiculous. I’m an entertainment writer.”
“You don’t even have to directly tell me, on the record. I’m a sharp guy.” I take a deep breath. “Look, here’s what we’ll do. I have a solution. There will be future scoops, much larger stories than this one. Judging by your last comment, it sounds like you want off the entertainment beat anyway. I can help make that happen for you. In exchange for that, I’ll say a name. You blink twice if it’s the source for your article, blink once if it’s not. This is completely off the record. I’ll deal with the leaker in a way that will never come back to you. I just want to make sure I’m not wasting my time on a wild goose chase.”
His eyes roam around the empty street, then back over to mine. “Nothing comes back to me.”