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“You’re…what?”
“You’re unglued, Jim. A loose cannon. I can’t risk you in that press conference.”
“But Noelle doesn’t know the history. The angle.”
“There is no angle. The only history is the stuff you’ve made up. You’re off the story. We’re going to put you on state politics.”
“This is insane. I’m so close—”
“The head of HR out at The Rouge called this morning, Jim.”
I rolled my eyes. “So what?”
“She called William.”
Oh, I thought, something like worry creeping in. William was the Publisher and he had ties to The Rouge, protected that little cesspool like it was Baton Rouge’s second coming.
“When you called to interrogate her this weekend, she thought you were doing a story on lax hiring practices, so when you hung up, she fired the blond dealer and put the pit boss on probation. After that, she called William to insist that there was nothing underhanded going on.”
“The story isn’t about The Rouge.”
“I know that.” Tom stood and stepped closer to where I was sitting. “I know that you don’t think much of me, and I’ve let you get away with a lot because of the work you did last year—but enough is enough, Jim. You’re leaving Carter O’Neill alone.”
I sat back and stretched my arms up over my head, prepared to fight fire with fire. “And if I don’t?”
Tom smiled, wide and bright like a kid on Christmas Day. “Then you’re fired, Jim. I don’t care about the awards you’ve won. You don’t stop chasing windmills, and I will so happily—you have no idea how happily—shit-can you right back down to a weekly somewhere in Nebraska.”
Tom stalked out, leaving my good day and possibly my career decimated.
You don’t own me. And you don’t own this story.
ZOE
I stroked my thumb over the send button on my cell phone. One little push. Just a little tiny—
I pressed the button, my heart hammering in my throat. It was too late. I couldn’t call him at eleven o’clock at night on a Monday. That was crazy. This whole thing was crazy.
But he told me to call him.
I looked up at Carter’s house, the windows alight, and felt like a sick, perverted stalker. That I had ginger cookies and salsa with me made it all a little worse.
“Hello?” He said after the second ring, and the rough/ smooth quality of his voice sent every internal muscle quivering.
I remember him! my body cried. I remember and I want him back!
“Anyone there?”
“Hi…ah…Carter,” I said and winced. “It’s Zoe.”
His laugh was dark and rich, and I wanted to flop back on the ground and roll around in the sound of it.
“Hello, Zoe. How was your day?”
“Good,” I said. “Great actually. I met with Eric Lafayette.”
“And…”
“And, he’s going to help me with the academy. Money, help finding the building,” I paused, still feeling as if I were floating, and the meeting had been at noon. “Thank you, Carter.”
“It wasn’t me, Zoe. It was you. Congratulations.”
“Thank you. And how about you? How was your day?” This would be a very normal conversation if I weren’t outside his house. Maybe I should just leave. But I wanted so badly to see him.
Ever since leaving the Lafayette offices I’d been thinking of Carter and sharing this news with him. More than telling my mother or even Phillip, I had thought of Carter.
“Well, I’ve scheduled a press conference to announce my intentions to be mayor-president next term.”
“Get out!” I gasped, and I laughed. “That’s fantastic, Carter. Congrats!”
There was a long pause and I looked up at the bright window. “Carter? Are you okay?”
“I think it’s just my mom being back in town. And Blackwell is all over my ass in the papers. I can’t make a single right move. I feel…”
“Trapped.”
His laugh was a short little huff. “Exactly, Zoe. That’s exactly how I feel. Let’s meet for a coffee, or…” I heard him fumble with something. “I guess it might be too late?”
“No,” I squeaked. I took a few steps to his door and rang his doorbell. “Not too late.”
“Hold on a second. Someone’s at my door.” I heard him thumping toward the front door on the phone and wondered if I was going to die of embarrassment.
The door swung open and I held my breath, unprepared for the sight of him in sweatpants and a ratty Old Miss T-shirt. His feet were bare and they were probably the most handsome feet on the planet. Maybe the universe.
Yeah! my hormones cried. Yeah for us!
“Zoe!” he said, his smile bright and unguarded. He was truly happy to see me, and all my embarrassment fled the scene. Well, most of it—I still had a bagful of cookies and salsa to explain away.
“This is great!”
“Are you sure? I was so excited about my day, and it was so busy that by the time I thought of coming over here and celebrating with you, I didn’t realize what time it was. And it’s late. I mean…for me. But maybe for you, too. So anyway, we could do this another time—”
