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She pushed her laptop to the side and grabbed her phone once more. She scrolled through her favorites and found Lance’s name.
5:26 PM… Chantelle: I’m sorry
Locking her phone, she walked to her closet and grabbed her shoes. With her keys in hand, she heard music coming from the kitchen. Peeking around the corner and through the doorway, she saw her mother dancing with Douglas.
The Temptations “My Girl” hummed through her ears, and she couldn’t hide the grin on her lips as she watched her mother glow from being in her husband’s arms. Pressing a hand to her chest, she stepped out the front door and to her rental car. Clutching the keys, she contemplated on where to go.
Instead, she stuffed the keys in her pocket and walked down the street. She came across an empty parking lot, only to notice the bushes and trees framing the lot. Chantelle looked up at the streetlights and power lines overhead, only to look down at the blue paint designating parking spots. She listened as the traffic moved past, an airplane flew overhead, and leaves rustled in the breeze. Wrapping her arms around herself, she continued on the street.
How would she fix this? Licking her lips, she walked further down the street. She passed the post office and the police station and heard the honk of a horn. Coming to a four-way stop, she tapped her foot on the pavement. What more could she do?
Before she noticed it, she walked in downtown Delta Heights. The one place that felt like home was only a few blocks away. Delta Heights Press. She paced to the front door, feeling the rush of cool air from the air conditioning.
Mr. Perkins stood a few feet away. His eyes brightened. “Chantelle?”
“Do you have a minute?” She clutched her phone in her hand.
He led the way to his office, and Chantelle made herself comfortable in the chair. He had a cup of coffee on his desk. There was always a coffee smell with Mr. Perkins.
“What can I do for you?” He rolled the sleeves up on his gray collared shirt. “I wasn’t expecting to see you.”
She gave a faint smile. “I’ve been thinking a lot about what you said.”
He sat at his desk and folded his hands on the top. “Does this have to do with the story going around town?”
Chantelle’s mouth twisted into a grin. “You could always smell a story. Nothing gets past you.”
He smiled. “I wish it did now, but you have to know this town thinks the world of you.”
“I know.” Her fingers grazed over her phone. “I have an idea.” She leaned in closer to his desk. “I want the town to know the truth. At first I didn’t think it was anyone’s business, but I want to take back control. It’s hurting too many people. Including Lance.”
“What did you have in mind?”
Chantelle opened her phone to her email. “I finished my story. It didn’t turn out the way I thought, but I want Delta Heights Press to have a copy.”
“What about your job?”
She shrugged. “I think I’m as good as fired. Besides, this isn’t what I was sending them. This is about Lance and me.”
“Well...” Mr. Perkins rubbed at his stubble chin as he perused her article. “We haven’t gone to print yet. I think this can be our feature story on our website by tomorrow.”
Chantelle raised an eyebrow. Just like old times.
***
Lance packed his office the following evening. His resignation was effective immediately instead of waiting for the rest of his notice. His cell rang nonstop from reporters wanting the news on his canceled engagement. Never in a million years did he predict a scandal.
He’d only been off the phone for five minutes and his phone rang again. Lance didn’t want to talk to another reporter, so he hit decline on his cell. Damage control was getting to him.
Most didn’t want the truth, anyway. They only wanted him to confirm the rumors. Was Chantelle pregnant? How long had he been cheating on Andrea? It rattled his brain. Why did people love drama?
When his front door opened, he saw his father in the doorway. Lance’s jaw clenched, but he resumed packing his cardboard box.
“Any concerns with the contract I should know about?” His father asked.
“None. I left everything on your desk.”
His father stuffed his hands in his pockets. “You’re not changing your mind?”
