Off the Grid

It’s time to get down to brass tacks.

“Lilac?” he croaked.

She smirked. It was good to see him tongue-tied. Too many years of being overlooked, underpaid, and taken for granted had left her with a bitter taste in her mouth and pettiness in her soul. “I thought the hair would make that evident, Chief.” She gave an aggressive smile more teeth than lips.

He blinked. Uncertainty rolled across his irises. His brow wrinkled and the muscles around his mouth tightened. You should be concerned. He had a charismatic personality, a silver tongue, and a smooth baritone that allowed him to maneuver circles around you until you caught on and got sick of the displacement.

She twirled a bouncy curl around her finger and stared him down. He cleared his throat and she took a seat across from him at his massive oak desk with ornate brass detailing. Everything he did came down to making him look and feel powerful. Today she’d show him he wasn’t the only one in control.

“You look amazing,” he purred.

And?

“Thank you,” she said coolly. Tsk, tsk, Peter. Flattery will get you nowhere today. “It was time for change.”

He cocked his head to the side, and his eyes darted from left to right before they rested on her face. “You wanted a brief on what you missed while you were gone?” he asked cautiously.

“No. I want to talk about my future with the Daily.”

“What do you mean?” His brow furrowed as his perfectly shaped eyebrows nearly met in the middle. Licking his lips, he leaned forward over the desk, crowding her space and focusing on the swell of her breasts.

Am I moving too fast for you? Or are you blinded by the fact that I can be just as attractive as your current fling? I swear to God, if he tries to proposition me …

“I’ve been here for over six years. I came to you fresh out of college, learned my craft, paid my dues, and put in my time. I deserve so much better than what I’m getting. Feel good pieces, undesirable stories, and whatever else you can scrape off the crap pile.” The memories sent heat rushing to her face. “Why would you bench your best player?” She placed a hand on her chest. “I am the one who catches the last minute boo-boos before we go to print. That alone speaks volumes. Yet here I am completely disenchanted with this paper, and unhappy with my career … one I went to college and worked my ass off for. I didn’t do an internship and work my way up. I have a degree and now I have the hands on experience behind it. So, please explain to me in great detail why my skills aren’t being utilized to their full potential in a way that won’t be cause for a lawsuit. There are no secrets at this job or in this town.”

He clenched his jaw, and his nostrils flared. “I see you came here to bust my chops and play hard ball. Now that you’ve eviscerated me with your words and handed me my ass, let’s talk dollars and cents. What do you want?” His voice was as sharp as a razor and his eyes were cold. This was the beast that lay at the very heart of Peter Shank.

“I want a raise, better stories, and a chance at being a lead reporter, or I’m walking.”

“Now wait a minute—”

“No.” The force of that one word seemed to echo on the office. “I am done waiting, Peter. I did everything I was asked and more. Like a fool I was patient for longer than I should’ve been. And you know what? I still got nowhere. Its bullshit and we both know it.” She placed her hands on the edge of the desk and leaned in, mirroring his body language. Fight fire with fire.

“What the hell happened to you?” he marveled.

“I didn’t change. I woke up.”

“Good.”

“What?” she said, shocked.

“I know you’re skilled technically speaking. You can turn a phrase, pull up just the right word, and engage the reader. I’ve never questioned that. The fact is, you came off as content to remain in the background. So what need was there to move you? I want someone who’s hungry. I wanted to see that fire you’re sending to me over the desk. Damn. I got goosebumps right now. You impassioned is a beautiful thing. I believe every word you’re saying.”

“You should.”

“See.” He snapped his fingers. “That right there. That same moxie is what’s required to get the jobs that require less finesse and more forwardness done. You want better? Come and take it. I’m willing to give you a chance to earn it.”

The quick flim flam he was pulling made her wary. Something was rotten in the town of Denmark and the stench emanated from the man across the desk.

“I’m listening,” she replied cautiously.

“If you can take an upcoming story on short notice, run with it, handle the pressure that comes with it, and write the story well, I’ll split the lead reporter spot between you and Alexa.”

“What’s the catch?” she asked bluntly. This felt like a play she wasn’t in on.

“None. You’d earn it fair and square.”

She pounced on the offer before he could renege. “Done.”