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I shrug and close out of the video, it’s not something for me to waste my time on. Who cares if Percy does drugs or hangs around with someone who does? All the celebrities and privileged have their vices. Why shouldn’t he be allowed his?
He’s my celebrity. How can I be so stupid? I need to capitalize on this. I’d spent all last night trying to forget about my problem. My job is riding right now on me being able to get a mind blowing story. Getting an interview with the elusive Percival Snow would be just that.
I’d never run a story about his drug use, especially since I have no real evidence. Besides the fact that he’s paying a known drug dealer, but I could use this information to get him to talk to me. The entire Snow family is as private as they come, getting an interview with the CEO of Snow Chronicle could be the highlight of my career. No one has ever been able to get one and with this shady video I may have exactly what I need to push him into helping me out.
“Carrie, I did it! I’m a freaking genius!” I shake her leg and she kicks me off.
“Please stop moving me. I’m one good jerk away from throwing up my soul.” With great effort she sits up on the couch, and wipes a hand down her face finally pulling the false eyelashes off.
“Now what are you talking about?”
I explain to her my plan to use the video to get Percy to do an interview with me expecting her to be as excited as I am instead she cringes.
“What? Why are you giving me that look?” My shoulders slump and drop my hands into my lap.
“Ella, I know you. You’re nosy, persistent, and down right annoying sometimes when you’re sniffing out a story. But I’ve never pegged you for someone who’d blackmail someone in order to get your way. Are you truly this desperate?”
I hear what she’s saying. So far in my career I’ve managed to keep myself on the right side of ethics. Blackmailing someone is so far over the line.
“I know, I mean … I’m not actually going to do it, but he doesn’t have to know I’m bluffing.” I waggle my eyebrows and Carrie burst out laughing.
“You’re a mess Ella. This is going to be fun. I can tell already.”
The doorbell rings and the smell of greasy egg sandwiches wafts through the door. Time to get over this horrible hangover and get on with the first steps of my research. Contact information. I’ve never blackmailed anyone before, but I’m assuming letting them know should be a high priority.
5
percy
I’m fucking exhausted.I’d spent all night fighting with Ian about his drug addiction. He swears to me that he’s going to get clean, but I’m the type of person who won’t believe it until I actually see it happening.
If I had a dollar for everytime he told me he was going to get clean I’d be … well I’d just be more rich.
I had to pay a man named Duck five thousand dollars in order to get Ian out of debt. Hopefully, it’s the last time I’m going to have to do something like that, but with Ian I can’t be sure. I know I should just let him fight his own battles, but I can’t bear the thought of him being killed or even injured when I can just take care of it. He may not have grown up with me, but that doesn’t make him any less my brother.
The office is running smoothly just like always. I’m sure I could take the morning off to nurse this headache and everything would be fine, but even one day away could mean the difference between losing a story and getting one. Right now, we are in talks with a few teams from the National Football League to run an article about the effects of rising salary caps. Football players and money—always a big seller. Of course with an entity as large as the NFL there are millions of hoops to jump through.
They’ll play ball though, it wouldn’t make sense for them not to. People come from all around the country to be featured in our paper.
My father had always made sure that we put out the absolute best in terms of information. Most of our readers take what we print to be the truth. Quite a few of the football players have been in trouble lately and I'm sure they’re all itching to get a chance to tell their story.
I press the intercom on my phone to get in contact with Alice, my executive assistant. She's usually on point when it comes to anticipating my needs, but I've been here for a while now and she's yet to bring in my coffee. How does anyone expect me to work without caffeine?
“Mr. Snow?"
"Alice, I need my espresso.” I get straight to the point. I don't have the energy for pleasantries right now. "Uh ... Sure. But Mr. Snow, You've already had your espresso this morning. You drunk it right at my desk." There's a twinge of laughter in her words.
"Oh. Really?" I rub my hand down my face again. I'm way too tired. "Sorry, can you get me just a regular brew? I need another pick me up before the day starts."
"Sure thing, give me a few minutes."
I power up my computer while I look over the pile of articles I plan to go through. My email is filled with correspondence from other journalists and high ranking officials. I like to stay hands on when it comes to what runs in the paper. It can be annoying, but it's worth it. My eyes skim the list of unopened emails and one in particular catches my eye. It’s from an email I don’t recognize and the subject says, I know your secret.
It’s probably just a virus or scam.
I press my thumb against my lip and rub back and forth slightly. If it were a virus my firewall would have stopped it from getting to my inbox. I don’t have many secrets, but it may be beneficial for me to find out if this mysterious email has any merit.
Fuck it. If it’s a spam bomb or something like that I have my own IT department to come up and clear my computer anyway.
