After a few minutes and two more mugs full of water, I have to admit to myself that I’m scared of Jack. That’s why I’m hiding next to the photocopy machine and inhaling the smell of burnt coffee.
Then there’s the other thing I don’t want to admit: the idea of going to Jack with a story he might actually appreciate has me all kinds of excited in places that definitely should not be active while I’m at work. I mentally tell those parts of my body to quiet down while I steel myself for what I need to do next: find Jack and explain what I’ve gotten myself into. And possibly get the verbal beat-down of my life.
Jack isn’t at his desk when I get back to mine. I look at the interoffice memo system where reporters post messages to let each other know if we’re out on an interview and when we’ll be back. Jack posted one a couple hours ago: Jack OUT: meeting with source, avail on cell.
I take a peek over the partition to see if he’s left behind any telltale items that might indicate he’ll be returning to pick them up before he goes home. His laptop is gone, but he could be using it to take interview notes. His jacket is no longer on the back of his chair, but that too could be something he put on before he met his source. There’s a half-full cup of coffee on his desk and a water bottle, but I have to admit I’ve never been interested enough in what he does to know if he leaves those kinds of things overnight.
I sit back at my desk and go through the news feeds, looking for any breaking news that someone in the bureau needs to cover for the online Examiner before the end of the day.
Pauline has been working on a follow-up to the merger story from yesterday, so I know she’s on top of her companies, but there are a few items that the biotech reporters should know about and a story starting to hit the wires about the energy markets. I do a quick roundup of data and let Davis, Judith, and Tyler know about the info I’ve dug up for them.
I figure it can’t hurt to do a little more digging into the financials of Worldvision to see if I can figure out exactly how much money the company earns from Bachelor Bay. I ask Blaire, one of the other entertainment reporters, what the budget is of a typical reality show.
“Depends on the show, but it’s pennies compared to scripted television. That’s why they’re so easy to make.”
“Is there a ballpark?”
“I mean, it mainly depends on whether there are celebrity hosts. Those salaries are the biggest part of the production budget. Why do you ask?”
“Just something I’m looking into for a potential story.”
“The person you should ask is Jack. He knows the financials backwards and forwards.” I figured as much, but he’s not here.
“Good idea,” I say, as though it hadn’t occurred to me. “Any idea if he’s coming back today?”
“Nah, no idea. But you can ping him on his cell.”
“Right. Good idea.”
I have no intention of pinging him. I’ll just wait and see if he makes it back to the office today, and if not, I’ll corner him first thing in the morning and fill him in on everything Megan told me. I feel like I’m carrying around a secret and the weight of it feels suffocating.
I already filed my follow-up story to yesterday’s Zumalife news. Stuart seemed mildly placated by my efforts. I convinced the company publicist that my oversight in the past was a colossal screw-up on my part because I’m new and still learning, and could I please be given a chance to make things right and write a nice profile of the Zumalife CEO? Yes, I groveled. She was mildly sympathetic. The CEO spent an hour on the phone with me and I turned in a nice 1,200-word story that will run on the front of the business section tomorrow.
While I sit waiting for Jack, I try to keep busy. I put in one more call to the Zumalife publicist to thank her for giving me access and to make sure there isn’t any other news about the company that I might be missing. I can’t afford to let my guard down for a minute.
“No, that’s it for news around here. I imagine taking the company private will be the most exciting announcement to come out of this company for a long time,” the publicist tells me. Nevertheless, I plan to make it my job to call her weekly just to make sure. I promise her we can meet for a drink soon. Despite what I told Jack, it looks like I’ll make it out to a bar near the office again.
It’s past eight at night, and everyone has left the newsroom except for Stuart, who’s doing the final edit on Pauline’s story and anything else that needs to be sent to the New York editors before the end of the day.
I decide to end my Jack-stalking mission since he’s obviously not coming back to the office. I wonder if he’s out having a drink with another source. Or with someone who’s not a source. Despite what he said about not going out much unless it’s work, I know he has women lining up to do whatever he wants. That’s been made abundantly clear from the phone calls I’ve overheard.
“Hey, you’re here late,” he says, as I’m bent down putting my laptop away. His voice sends a chill down my spine and I force myself to believe it’s only due to nerves. I glance up to see Jack in his navy sport coat and tie with his laptop bag slung over his shoulder. Looking hot. Nerves, be damned.
Oh, for the love of God, Linden, please stay focused.
I blink to shake myself out of my trance. “Yeah, I was… hoping we could talk about something. I wasn’t sure if you were coming back.”
“Oh, you could’ve called me. But whatever, I’m here. What’s up?”
I bite my lower lip, something I do when I’m stalling and already regretting what I’m about to say. He leans against the low wall that separates our row of cubicles from the next one.
“Do you have time right now? If you have to go, we can talk tomorrow…”
“I’m good. What’s up? Everything okay?” He looks relaxed, ready to wrap up his day. He’s not expecting what I’m about to tell him and now I’m regretting staying here to talk. I haven’t figured out what to say.
“Yeah,” I begin, but the tremor in my voice is not reassuring. “I took a call on the news desk this morning…”
He pulls a chair up and sits on it backward, leaning on the headrest. “Spill.”
I outline the broad strokes of the phone call from Megan and the meeting at Starbucks. I’m careful to tell him that I didn’t want to bother him if her tip turned out to be nothing, but that I thought I should pursue the lead just in case it panned out.
“Of course, the second I realized the show is a cash cow for Worldvision I knew you’d want to be involved—”
“Involved?”
“Well, I mean, I know you cover the company. I just didn’t know… initially… if a dumb reality show was too small potatoes for you to bother with.”
I tell him how I’ve spent some time looking at the financials of the television division and compared those with the revenues from the rest of the company and also checked out line items that might be disguising payouts for lawsuits. I’m unable to stop my rambling. I know I’m telling him things he already knows about a company he studies like he’s prepping for an exam. I wish I could stop myself from blathering on and on, but since he hasn’t said a word in minutes, I keep going, trying to justify the fact that I waited all day to tell him. Wishing I had an off switch on my mouth, so I’d stop filling the air with useless information he already knows.