Imaginary Lines (New York Leopards 3)

Pain sliced through me like a dull, dragging dagger.

Tanya stepped up behind him. “You can’t fire my reporters.”

“Don’t get me started on you,” he warned. “You’re lucky you’re not out of a job, too.”

She got right in his face. “You fire my reporter, I quit too.”

He stared at her. We all did. She had to be bluffing, but boy, it was quite a bluff. Because what if he called it?

He threw up his hands. “The fuck is this, a mutiny?” He spun around and glared at the guys. “The rest of you want to throw in the towel, too?”

Beside me, Mduduzi and Jin were silent, and I thought of how Mduduzi sent half his money back to his family in Zimbabwe each month, and how Jin’s fiancée had recently been laid off, and how they needed this money. And I didn’t blame them.

But I was surprised when Carlos stepped forward, and his voice didn’t quaver in the least as he said, “I will.”

Stuart regarded all of us with disgust.

Tanya lowered her voice. “Look, this is a real story.”

“That’s going to lose us a hell of a lot of money.”

“And bolster our reputation.”

“You should’ve run it by me!”

She lifted her head. “Better to ask forgiveness.”

“You’re fucking crazy, you know that?” He shook his head. “Let’s get a room.”

They stormed off, each attempting to outrace the other as they entered a conference room along with the other adjuncts. Mduduzi let out a low whistle. “Hope they’re not taking her to the guillotine.”

“Am I fired?” I asked. “Do you think I should pack my stuff?”

Carlos shook his head stubbornly. “Not without Tanya’s say-so.”

Jin let out a low whistle from bent over his computer.

My stomach tightened. “What is it?”

“You got some reviews coming in.”

Of course I did. But I couldn’t even bring myself to care. I’d told the story, and that was that. They either believed me or they didn’t. They hated me or they didn’t. I couldn’t change people, and I didn’t want to.

Billy, the receptionist, ran back into the room. “Where’s Tanya?”

We nodded at the closed conference door. “Why?”

“Greg Philip is on the phone.” He knocked once and then let himself in, and out again before any of us had managed to look away.

Seconds or hours passed before Tanya leaned out of the room. “Rosenfeld, get in here.”

Mduduzi saluted me. I frowned at him. “I’m not going to my execution.”

The guys looked unconvinced.

I entered the conference room slowly, and closed the door when she gestured toward the table. No one was sitting, so I stood there too, with Tanya and Stuart and two other high-ranking Today Media staff that I’d never spoken to before. “How bad is it?”

“Pretty bad.” Tanya sounded more pleased than I’d ever heard her. “Philip wants a retraction and an apology.”