“Go on in,” said the youngman.
She heaved in a breath, steeled her spine and pushed open Max’s door. With any luck, he no longer clung to hisgrudge.
Max stood with his back to her, facing the window, while he spoke on his cell phone. Alexandra waited, squinting against the bright afternoonsunlight.
“Good job covering the White House press briefing, honey,” Max said. “Since you’re playing with the big boys, I’ll coach you on some more substantive questions. ‘Who designed the First Lady’s gown for the state dinner?’ doesn’t pack the punch you need to be takenseriously.”
Goose bumps covered her arms. The conversation sounded like so many she’d heard Max utter. Even after all these years, his patronizing tone chilled her blood. She cleared herthroat.
“I’ll see you in ten—” He turned and shot her a cool glance. “Let me call you back.” He slipped his phone into his pocket, didn’t bother to shake her hand. “Our paths cross again, AlexandraMitus.”
Mitus? He knows I use Reed professionally.She really didn’t want to meet with him and forced a pleasant smile. “Hello,Max.”
In addition to packing on the pounds, he’d colored his salt and pepper hair to midnight black. No longer wrinkled, his face reminded her of a baby’s rump. His attempts to conceal his age had only exacerbated it. But the one feature that hadn’t changed was Max Buchard’s smugexpression.
He eased into his executive chair and leaned back. Across from his desk, she perched on the edge of a Kindergarten-sized seat and peered up at him. In every way possible, Max exerted hisauthority.
After he pontificated about the differences between the West and East Coast markets, he rested his clasped hands on his protruding belly. “Rick Schwartz forwarded me one of your magazine shows. Cozying up to those A-listers got you bigratings.”
She bit her lip to force herself to stay silent.My journalistic integrity got me thoseratings.
“But watching your demo reel gave me an idea,” Max continued. “We need something to jump-start our dwindling viewership. Launching a news magazine show could be our ticket out of last place. Congressmen, senators, hell, a segment with POTUS and his family would rocket our numbers sky high and get me noticed.” He broke eye contact to stare out the window for several seconds. “Capitalizing on your popularity in LA could work. Would you consider hosting myshow?”
Absolutely!She sat tall, trying to make up for the difference in chair size, but she didn’t want to show her hand, especially since the network had forced his. Max was the Big Kahuna and she neededthisjob inthismarket.So, she played it cool. “Whatever you think isbest.”
This Max appeared affable and more relaxed. Had he changed? Learned his lesson? Buried the hatchet? A tiny seed of hope tookroot.
“Also, I’m not averse to letting you cover the White House,” he said. “For now, keep all this underwraps.”
Her heart leapt at the thought.The White House.“Ofcourse.”
He checked his watch. “Thanks for stopping by. I run a tight ship of hardworking professionals, so prepare for ‘nose to the grindstone’ at the start of the NewYear.”
Alexandra struggled out of the tiny chair. “Thank you for your time.” Trying to sound casual, she added, “By the way, I don’t use Mitus. I still use Reed,professionally.”
“Yes, I remember. Like an elephant,I forgetnothing.” His eyes narrowed. “Thought you’d want to capitalize on the famous Mitus name. In this neck of the woods, that packs one hell of apunch.”
“I’ll keep that inmind.”
Pushing out of his chair, he looked down his nose, though they stood eye-to-eye. “I have an off-site meeting. I’ll walk you out.” As he rounded his cluttered desk, he grabbed a weighty stack of papers. “Take these.” He shoved the pile at her. “No one here has time to flush out these possible leads. My gift toyou.”
Alexandra’s cheeks heated while her hope fizzled. She glanced at the disheveled papers cradled in her arms. Rookie reporters would sort through the pile, hungry for a story or news tip. Surely there was a journalist more junior than she who should be assigned thisjob.
With the meet and greet over, Max escorted her out. A few minutes later, she stood alone on the busy sidewalk as Washingtonians whiskedby.
After grabbing a sandwich at Phillips Cafe, she tooled around the nation’s capital. Even though the one-way streets turned her around, she loved the vibe of her new city. As she drove past the Newseum, a long line of children, walking in pairs, traipsed inside. She hoped something in that museum would spark an interest in journalism for one of thosekids.
Later that afternoon, Alexandra ran on the treadmill in the gym of her mom’s condo building, then cooked dinner. While she and Kimberly ate, Alexandra mentioned how the network had found her a temporary assignment. But she didn’t mention her new boss by name. Why ruin her mom’s day? Like Max, Kimberly forgotnothing.
Years earlier, when Max had insisted Alexandra withdraw her application for weekend anchor, she’d consulted her mom. Kimberly suspected Max might have been up to no good and encouraged her daughter to stay thecourse.
After setting down her fork, Kimberly regarded Alexandra for several seconds. “That sounds like a rookie job. Float your resume with the localcompetition.”
She was all too familiar with her mom’s cocked brow and unblinking stare. “Working forty hours will be a piece of cake.” Alexandra smiled. “Plus, this arrangement lets me spend time withyou.”
Kimberly stared at her half-eaten plate of pasta. “I’m doing fine, as you cansee.”
Sadly, though, Alexandra knew differently. Her mom needed help dressing. And the nurses doled out her daily meds after Kimberly had taken the wrong chemo dose one evening, then vomited all nightlong.
