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“Would you like to comment on the land development? Do you know how many families are going to be displaced because of this?”
I rolled down the window. “I never said I was a part of your story, Miss Paige.”
She huffed. “I’m not that green.”
“How green would you say you are?” I shoved the key in the ignition. “You know on a scale of zero to ten. Maybe a two?” I pressed the center of my sunglasses between my eyes.
My question seemed to irritate her more. “I graduated
in May from Longmire University at the top of my class. I have plenty of experience as a reporter.”
“Good school. And you ended up down here? Sorry about that.” I cranked the radio to drown out the rest of her questions. “Nice meeting you. Good luck with your story.” I put the car in drive.
“Wait. What’s your name?” She walked next to me as I circled an open spot to turn around.
I pretended not to hear her and pulled out of the gravel lot. She grew smaller in the mirror. Her face furrowed in frustration. Her hair still unmanageable. One of my policies was never talk to the press. It was a damn shame though, because that member of the press was possibly the most gorgeous reporter I had ever met.
2
Sydney
This was fucking awesome. I was standing in a trailer park, bits of dust and sand clouding the air around me. That guy was a part of this. Sexy smile or not, I knew he had some sort of angle.
I had met his type before. Smug. Arrogant. Rich. Athletic as hell. Bad. Very bad.
I turned to face the cluster of campers in front of me. Arnie Cratchett was somewhere in this maze.
I felt a trickle of perspiration roll down my neck as I knocked on the next door. I had already canvassed one row of homes.
There was a pink stroller parked next to the stairs along with a set of plastic sand buckets and shovels.
A woman cracked the door. “Yes?” She was wearing a white T-shirt with the Pancake House logo scrawled across the front. Her light brown eyes matched her hair.
“Hi. I’m looking for Arnie Cratchett. Does he live here?”
“Arnie’s next door.” She pointed to the trailer one over. A little girl, probably five years old peeked between her mother’s legs.
“Hi.” I waved.
She started to giggle.
“Thank you. I appreciate it. I’ve knocked on all these doors.”
“No problem. Hey, are you that reporter he’s been talking about?”
“I guess so.” I realized Arnie could have talked to multiple reporters.
“Well, I’d like to say that whoever the assholes are,” she stopped and covered her daughter’s ears with her palms. “The ones tearing this place down should be ashamed of themselves for what they’re doing. Where are we supposed to go?”
I pulled my reporter’s pad from my bag. “Would it be ok if I asked you a few questions about the development?”
“Sure. Let me get Lindy settled with a snack. Hold on.”
I waited in the front yard of the camper. I didn’t know how long I could stand being outside in the sun, but it wasn’t as if I could invite myself in.
A few minutes later the mom stepped outside. “She’s set up watching a Mickey Mouse show. We have exactly twenty minutes.”
I smiled. “She’s cute. She reminds me of my niece.” I pushed down the knot that formed whenever I thought about my sister and Gracie.
