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Running helped tone my muscles, and that was all I was after.
“Morning, everyone,” I greeted, distributing the pancakes to those who shared my life philosophy and getting glares from the rest. I transcribed Reid’s interview first thing. Editing it took the rest of my morning. Only then did I check my emails.
The first one I opened was from LA Lifestyle. They were informing me that they would publish Reid’s article in the next issue as long as I sent everything on time. The deadline was tomorrow. My blood boiled when I reached the end of the email. On the very last line, they also mentioned “We retain discretion to edit.”
Oh, really? No, they wouldn’t. Not for one of my clients. I knew exactly what that line meant. It was essentially their way of excusing themselves from any libel suits if they defamed someone.
“Editing” usually meant they’d rephrase a few key sentences so they would sound controversial and leave room for interpretation.
Well, hell no.
I retreated to one of the small conference rooms, as I usually did when I knew I was about to have a heated conversation.
“Hailey,” my contact answered. Victor was a reporter in his midforties. “What can I do for you?”
“I just received your email. What’s with that last line?”
“It’s standard practice, you know that.”
“It’s standard practice for field work where you draw conclusions based on snapshots and hearsay, not a one-on-one interview.”
“We’re not going to change anything. It’s just a standard sentence in our email.”
He didn’t think I’d be satisfied with that, did he? I might not have worked in this industry as long as he had, but I had enough life and work experience to know the only promises that mattered were the written ones.
“I’m going to have to ask you to resend that email and specifically say that not one word will be changed or paraphrased.”
“I don’t have time for this,” he snapped.
“Then I’m going to have to give the story to someone else.”
“What? You promised it to me.”
“You also promised to publish it as I send it to you, and you’re going back on your word.”
“You are exasperating.”
I swallowed but didn’t let the insult get to me. Or at least I told myself I didn’t. I’d heard worse from people I worked with, and even from guys I dated who threw in my face that they just couldn’t deal with my type-A personality.
Yes, I wanted things done a certain way. Yes, I had standards. Yes, I didn’t think it was acceptable for anyone to go back on their word in any circumstances.
“You have until five o’clock today to send me the revised email, Victor, or I’m not sending you the interview.”
“You do realize that schmuck needs us more than we need him, right?”
My hackles went up.
“Media outlets are a dime a dozen in this city, Victor. If you won’t publish it, someone else will. You might have a larger user base than others, but everyone’s been waiting for Reid’s side of the story for a while. It will spread fast, with or without your contribution.”
“You’re going to burn bridges with your demands.”
“I’ll end up with the ones worth keeping.”
In truth, I did need a connection at LA Lifestyle. But a connection who always felt he had the upper hand, the final say, was of no use to my clients. I needed someone honest, someone I could count on, or there was no point. Victor said nothing. I could sense the wheels turning in his mind. To up the ante, I added, “Let me know before five o’clock,” then disconnected the call.
Yeah, make him sweat. He deserved it. I knew Victor. He’d likely already bragged to his bosses that he had this in the bag. He’d lose face if the story got away from him now.
I pushed Victor to the back of my mind and went on about my day. He replied two hours later with the updated terms. I smiled to myself, spinning with my chair a few times.
