to go back to One57.”
I need some fucking answers.
Right now.
16
Penny
Click, click, click.
The sound of my high heels clicking across the pavement feel like a ticking bomb, one about to go off any minute now. And that’s about right; I’m on my way to Magnus’ apartment at One57, hoping to catch him before he heads out to work, and the conversation I want to have with him isn’t going to be a good one.
I’ve reached a decision. I’m not a good liar and, in fact, I don’t even want to be one. I’ve decided to tell Magnus the whole truth. Yeah, it’s not going to be pretty, I know. But what can I do? Keep on lying and playing my part as a pawn on Laurel Trask’s game? That’s not me. Even though Laurel and my mom have been pressuring me hard to finish Magnus off, I just can’t bring myself to do it. Especially when he seems to be a different man from what I expected him to be.
Are you awake? I text him, my thumb flying over my cellphone’s screen. It’s still early, and I expect him to be asleep. His answer comes fast, though.
I’m awake. Meet me at home, he replies, and I throw my phone inside my purse and start hurrying down the street, the rising silhouette of One57 cutting across the morning sky. It towers over the city like some temple of opulence, its enormous steel and glass frame reminding everyone that One57 is a fortress for some of the wealthiest people in the world.
Even though I’m determined to go through with this, each step I take makes the knot inside my stomach grow. There’s a coldness under my skin, and even my mouth seems to have grown dry. I have no idea how he’s going to react to the truth, but I’m pretty sure that he won’t like it. How could he?
Adding to my anxiety, New York itself seems to be in a pretty agitated state as well. Even though I’ve always lived here, I never really got acclimated to the strong sense of urgency that seems to fill everything and everyone. Besides, it’s 8 am sharp, which means everyone is scurrying around and trying not to be late for work.
Oh, fuck, I think to myself as I close in on the entrance to One57. Magnus is already there, hands in his pockets, and he doesn’t smile as he sees me walking toward him. Not a good omen, not at all.
“What are you doing out here?” I ask him, trying to feign a good mood. I try to tell myself that he’s waiting for his car, but that can’t be; the dark limo is making its way down the street, moving away from us. Without saying a word, he just shoves the newspaper in his hand toward me. My heart sinks as I realize it’s a copy from the New York Daily Journal.
I wanted to come clean, but I guess it’s already too late for that. What did I expect, anyway? It’s not like you need Sherlock Holmes to figure out that I’m working at the Daily Journal.
“Care to explain why you didn’t tell me you were working for the Daily Journal?” he asks straight away, not bothering with beating around the bush. I take the newspaper from his hands, but I don’t even look down at it; I already know exactly what’s in there.
“Can we go… somewhere private?” I say, not wanting to open up to him in a crowded street. This isn’t going to be easy, especially now that he wised up to what’s going on, and the last thing I need is an audience. Without bothering to reply, he turns on his heels and heads inside One57. I follow after him, getting inside one of the elevators, and I realize that my mouth’s so dry my tongue feels like a jagged piece of charcoal.
He leads the way toward his apartment and, once we’re inside, the door locks behind us, and he turns to me and folds his arms. His smart eyes are locked on mine, and I know there’s no getting away from this without telling him the whole truth. Which is exactly what I wanted to do in the first place, except now he must think he’s forcing my hand.
“Believe it or not,” I start, swallowing down all fear and hesitancy, “I came here today because I wanted to come clean about this.” I look into his eyes, waiting for him to say something, but he just stares back at me in silence. Alright, fair enough. “I work for the New York Daily Journal, Magnus.”
“I figured out that much. But I’m going to need more than that. I want the whole truth,” he says, his words coming out of his mouth like ice. “Gossip Central—do you have anything to do with it?”
My lips break into a sorrowful smile.
“I’m the person behind Gossip Central. Vicky Durner? She doesn’t exist, Magnus. There’s no Vicky Durner. There’s just me, Penny Wright.” My throat feels like it has been laced with thorns and nails but, in a way, it feels good to hear the truth coming out from my mouth. The truth might hurt, but it also sets you free. At least, that’s what these inspiring Facebook images seem to say; nothing beats the wisdom of social networks, huh?
“You wrote those articles,” he whispers, and I notice that he isn’t asking me a question. He’s simply stating the facts, allowing it all to sink in.
“I did,” I admit, biting down on my lower lip and, somehow, forcing myself to return his gaze.
“Why?” he simply asks, and I feel my heart shrivel up inside my chest, and that's because there’s no anger in his voice.
Only sadness. Disappointment.
“My mother, she… she’s working with Laurel Trask.”
“The mayor?”
“The mayor. They told me to go after you, and do my best to bring you down… But I just can’t do it anymore, Magnus. Because they’re wrong about you. I know that now, whether you believe it or not.”
“I assume you’ve told them everything…?”