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“I did verify that he was who he said he was.”
“Did you speak to HR?” asked the woman who was in charge of the paper’s human resources department.
“Of course not. If I spoke to HR, I would have outed the guy. He came to me at considerable risk.”
“Not so much,” said the lawyer. “And the money you paid him does not help your case.”
Shit! How did they know about that? The source had said he needed money to get out of town and to start over. What the hell did I do? What’s going on?
“He needed expenses, and I knew—”
“You knew that this paper does not pay sources for information,” said Senior with a disdainful tone.
“That’s what you tell yourself,” scoffed Quinn. “Reporters have ways of covering that shit up. At least I used my money and not yours.”
“Which is why, with two additional provisos, we were able to convince the Comptroller’s Office not to sue the newspaper.”
Quinn felt the weight of all that had happened descend on her shoulders. She closed her eyes and breathed through the moment before opening them and looking directly at the lawyer. “That the paper print a front page retraction and fire me.”
“I see at least you learned at Columbia the ramifications of shoddy journalism and making unfounded charges against a city official and his staff,” intoned Senior.
“I had no reason to question my source. Everything looked legitimate.”
“But it wasn’t,” said the lawyer. “He forged all the documents. None of it was real. None.”
“How was I supposed to know that?”
“That’s why you should have checked with human resources,” said the HR person. “He was terminated and had an ax to grind.”
“But I didn’t know that.” Quinn hated the way she sounded like she was pleading, which she supposed, she was. “I had no reason to believe he wasn’t still employed or that he would go to so much trouble to dummy up the information. I thought I’d dotted all my I’s and crossed all my T’s.”
“You thought wrong,” said the lawyer.
“As you are being terminated for cause, and New York is an ‘employment at will’ state, you will receive no severance, no reference, and no extended benefits will be available for you.” The head of the human resources department stepped forward, extending an envelope. “This check covers your employment from your last paycheck through today and any and all unpaid leave you are due. Your desk has been packed up and security will escort you from the building.”
Quinn looked at Senior. “Let me guess; Todd knew about this.”
“Yes. My son is very disappointed in you, as am I. Maria packed your things and they are being held at the desk in the foyer of the building. I need to collect the keys to the apartment, as well as your credentials, identification and security badge, and your engagement ring.”
From the moment Quinn had begun to realize what was taking place, she’d been twisting her engagement ring, hoping to loosen it up without spitting on it. Finally, it came free, and she tossed it on Senior’s desk as she took the proffered envelope from Human Resources. She flattened her lips into a thin line as she turned to leave.
“Have you nothing to say for yourself?” asked Senior, finally rising to his feet.
“Yeah,” she said over her shoulder. “Fuck you.”
The security guards, who were merely overtrained chimpanzees in uniform who’d been rejected as applicants for the police department, seemed to enjoy her ‘walk of shame’ as she was escorted from the building. The larger of the two set the box of her belongings on the ground before he and his partner returned inside.
“Ms. Forrester? Ms. Quinn Forrester?” asked a man in a cheap suit and bow tie.
“Yes, I’m Quinn Forrester,” she said, taking the folded paperwork he offered her.
“You’ve been served,” he said before spinning on his heel and walking briskly away.
Knowing what she would read, Quinn unfolded the paperwork. Sure enough, the Comptroller and the others she had named in the article were suing her for libel. They’d gotten their pound of flesh from the paper, who had, in turn, fed her to the lions.
Leaning over, Quinn picked up her personal belongings and hailed a cab. But where to go? She no longer had a place to live. Remembering a lawyer, Genelva, whom she’d interviewed about the glass ceilings female and non-Caucasian lawyers still encountered, Quinn retrieved her cell phone and called the woman’s firm, only to be told that the lawyer in question had left the firm and opened her own shop. Quinn repeated the address to the cab driver as she dialed the new number.
“Quinn? Ever since I saw the retraction and the paper’s editorial condemning unfounded stories and damning you, I was hoping you’d call. Are you on your way here?”
